honky-tonk. We could watch Armageddon and I could cry on his shoulder when Bruce Willis sacrifices himself. Well, I could have…before he saw my saggy eggplant underwear.
I’m still despairing over the morning’s turn of events when I join Cal for an early dinner. We have a standing date every Wednesday. Like clockwork, I wrap up my shift, replace my gown with street clothes, and head back toward his penthouse, which overlooks the theme park. Yes, he lives inside Elena’s Castle. Lucky jerk.
In short, Charles Knightley, AKA “Cal”, is the intrepid brain behind the Knightley Company. He is to Fairytale Kingdom as Elon Musk is to Tesla. Without him, none of us would be here.
He’s a legend around these parts, and not many people have much interaction with him, especially if not on an executive team. But, for the last eight years, Cal has been my mentor, and more than that, a friend. It might seem like an odd pairing considering he’s nearly 60 years my senior, but it works.
I take the spiral staircase past the second-floor restaurant until I reach the third-floor elevator. I scan my employee ID and step inside. The doors sweep closed behind me and up I go.
Cal’s penthouse is concocted from pure fantasy. Ornate, opulent, over the top, and filled with everything the king of the Knightley Company needs to run his kingdom, it’s never quiet. Even now, when I step off the elevator into his foyer, I hear voices filtering down from the living room. He uses the main part of the penthouse to run day-to-day operations. There are always executives and managers running in and out.
The walls of the long, wide foyer are covered in renderings and early architectural blueprints of the park. There are framed chicken-scratch notes of would-be roller coasters and hastily drawn character concepts that all eventually came to life in one way or another. These little pieces of Fairytale Kingdom’s past would sell at auction for millions of dollars, and yet, here they hang, right at my fingertips.
Cal’s booming voice carries to where I stand and I smile and move along, finally spotting him at the large bank of windows that face directly down Castle Drive—his usual spot. It’s a view few in the world have been lucky enough to see.
I nod to the other people in the room—all of whom I know by face, if not by name—and walk over to Cal. He tips his head in greeting and continues his discussion with the Head of Food and Beverage. I know better than to interrupt while he’s putting out a fire. Instead, I glance out the window and take in the park. In the area around Elena’s Castle, everything is designed to look like a medieval French village transformed in colorful pastel hues. Red cobblestone paths lead past small cottages housing gift shops. A smithery churns out toy swords. An apothecary shop sells fruit juice disguised as various tinctures and potions. Restaurants fill to capacity while barmaids and singers spill out onto the street. The manicured lawns are green and dotted with topiaries carefully carved into lifelike knights and their steeds. The street itself is lined with black lanterns and hanging planters. Vendors sell hot dogs and balloons and ice cream and handheld bubble machines. Though the sounds don’t carry, I can imagine the hum of the park. Even this late in the evening, Fairytale Kingdom is alive, and every square inch seems to be filled by guests. From where I stand, they look like ants.
Cal’s hand hits my shoulder and I glance back.
His loose white shirt is rolled neatly to his elbows underneath a purple cotton vest. His green army pants should clash with the thin French scarf tied around his neck, but they don’t. That’s just Cal. I’ve never once seen him shy away from color or pattern or texture. His clothing is as outlandish and eccentric as he is.
“I heard about the incident today,” he says, removing his glasses and letting them dangle on their blue lanyard.
I blush, though I shouldn’t be surprised he found out about the little boy. If anything out of the ordinary happens in his park, he knows about it.
“It wasn’t a big deal. Ryan sorted it out eventually.”
He narrows his eyes, not pleased with that answer. Cal doesn’t think much of Ryan. He’s late for his shifts every now and then. He doesn’t go the extra mile for guests the way some of us do.