Confession, everyone had really great ideas about how Jo's dress selection would go down. When I saw them in the reviews I thought "what a great idea". Unfortunately, I had already written this chapter by the time those came rolling in. Hope this version doesn't disappoint.
The plan is officially underway...
The next morning I was in the valley taking a look at one of the park's most "innovative" attractions. At least that's how the walking brochure from Masrani Global was explaining it to me.
"The guests will be able to maneuver the gyrosphere's all over the valley which provides a very interactive experience with the assets," the guy rambled, gesturing animatedly to what appeared to be a life sized hamster ball.
I swear since I took this job I whispered "what the fuck?" to myself at least 20 times a day.
"What's your name?" I asked, looking at the man in question. I pulled my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose as I took in his ensemble. He was wearing a suit, complete with a vest and shiny black shoes, in the middle of a valley, in Central America. I was baking in the 90 degree heat and I had the good sense to not dress like I was attending a funeral. Where did Simon find these people?
"Me, I'm Dan. Dan Weston."
"First thing Danny, don't call them assets. Their animals, dinosaurs if you want to get technical. Second, what safety protocols do you have out here for the guests and animals?" I questioned.
"Well, it's Dan not Danny," he corrected. I simply stared at him in return. "But that's not important. Well, the gyrosphere's are rated to stop a .50 caliber bullet so the guests will be safe."
Because dinosaurs regularly fire off .50 caliber bullets.
"And the dinosaurs?"
"I'm not sure I get your point ma'am." The lines in between his eyes made his confusion pretty easy to decipher. I guess I'd just have to break this down Barney Style.
"Well, are you just planning on letting the guests roam wherever the wind takes them? Do you have any fences in place to keep the animals in certain zones?" I took my sunglasses off wiping the sweat from my forehead. These were only two of the billion questions I had, and I'd only been out here 20 minutes. These people had too much money and not enough common sense.
"Well, no, with the gyrosphere's being able to withstand what they can there isn't really a threat out here," Dan supplied nervously.
So if I was hearing him right there was no danger whatsoever in the valley filled with prehistoric dinosaurs. Yeah, OK.
I shook my head at him in agreement, "Get in the hamster ball Danny."
"I'm sorry?" he muttered, slowly backing up.
"I said, get in the hamster ball." What was I speaking Greek?
Danny reluctantly climbed into the hamster ball looking like the tool I knew he would. There was simply no way a person could maintain a shred of dignity sitting in one of these things. Who comes up with these attraction?
"You said this is rated to stop a .50 caliber bullet, right?" I asked, using air quotes.
"Yes, that's right."
"And because the person who shipped it to you said it was safe you think that's the only safety measure we need in place out here, is that also right?"
"Well...yes," Dan answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
What I was about to do was probably a no-no in the corporate policy handbook, but I saw no other way to help Danny see my point of view. Besides, "fuck it" was a pretty well tested philosophy of mine, it's gotten me through a shit ton of situations. No reason to think it wouldn't work here as well.
I pulled out my Glock, firing three rounds directly into the hamster ball. Danny screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing himself out the small opening, tumbling onto the ground with a shriek.
"Are you crazy?! What the hell are you doing?!" he yelled from the ground.
I'm not crazy, I'm mentally unrestricted. There's a huge difference.
I could have explained the difference, but Danny wasn't looking too receptive to interpretation at the moment. I holstered my gun, walking over to the hamster ball inspecting the glass.
"Well Danny, I'd say you should contact your manufacturer because those bullets are not .50 caliber and that glass looks pretty well broken. Good thing for you it worked a little, huh?"
"You're a maniac! I will be informing Mr. Masrani about this incident," he huffed, standing up as he attempted to salvage his self respect.
"Be my guest Danny. I'll be sure to let Simon know you had no interest in keeping his guests or animals safe out here," I shot back, "You need invisible fences all around this valley to protect the guests and animals alike. I don't give a shit what you rate that glass at, if a guests rolls up on a mother and her young it ain't going to help. These hamster balls need technology that will automatically turn the guests around if they refuse to obey the rules, and can be overridden in the control room if needed. Our only concern isn't just the guests, we have a responsibility to the animals we pulled out of extinction."
I walked back to my Jeep as Danny pulled out his phone, no doubt calling headquarters to tattle on me. These people just didn't understand the significance of what they had done on this island. This wasn't just a park to these dinosaurs, it was their home, and they never asked for spectators. They weren't going to play nice just because we asked them too. We needed protocols to ensure everyone remained safe while maintaining a suitable environment for the dinosaurs to thrive in.
I drove back to headquarters to meet with Sparky the T-Rex paleontologist. Apparently they had a "breakthrough" since our last meeting. I sincerely hoped for my mental stability it was better than the hamster ball breakthrough.
Pulling up to the T-Rex paddock I made my way through the exhibits and down into the plastic tube, Sparky was waiting for me anxiously.
"Hi Jo, come on down. I think you're going to really like this," he said. I really needed to learn this guy's name. "So, the last time we met you were concerned about the guest enclosure being too exposed and the T-Rex having some sensitivity to what was inside."
Not exactly how I'd put it, but for the sake of brevity I nodded my head yes.
"OK, so to address those issues we reworked the plastic to resemble a fallen tree trunk with just a small opening here so the guests can see the feeding," he said, pointing to the window.
I waited for him to get to the big "breakthrough", but he just looked at me like a dog awaiting praise for not shitting on your carpet. I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.
"So, let me make sure I understand. I said it was dangerous to allow guests down here due to the color conditioning of the animal so to fix the problem you decided to decoupage the plastic tube. Is that about right?"
"It's a little more than decoupage…"
"No, it's glorified camouflage. Never mind the T-Rex is a highly intelligent animal that has most of its brain devoted to smell. I'm sure your fake log will do the trick," I snapped.
"Jo, this is the only option. There's no point in having a T-Rex if no one can see it. This is as safe as we can realistically make it."
Therein lied the problem. There was no realistic way to ensure everyone's safety. This island was an accident waiting to happen.
"Yeah, tell that to the guy who gets eaten," I mumbled, "I got it, you tried and it is better than before. I got to run, anything else?"
He shook his head no and I left, heading towards headquarters. I needed to find Simon and ensure Lowery was officially uninvited to the gala. Turns out finding Simon wasn't really necessary, he was waiting for me when I got off the elevator.
"Jo, please tell me you didn't shoot at Mr. Weston," Simon said wearily.
"I didn't."
Technically, I shot at the hamster ball. He just happened to be inside at the time.
"The story Mr. Weston tells is somewhat different." Danny was such a bitch.
I shrugged and Simon sighed. He seemed to do that a lot with me. We made our way to his office where I outlined what actually happened in the valley, more or less. I made sure Simon understood the need for invisible fences for the animals, upgraded technology for remote access, and maybe another layer of safety glass. By the end of our meeting he was less stressed about the encounter. Simon may not like my methods, but he appreciated my results.
Now I needed to bench Lowery.
"So, the investor's gala seems like it's going to be a real shindig," I remarked.
Simon looked up from his paper smiling, "Yes, I believe it will be quite an event. The guests list is almost locked in and I'm anticipating some beneficial results for the park."
"I bet. I personally can't wait. Lowery was telling me yesterday at lunch that he had a special suit made for the occasion," I said non-nonchalantly, walking towards the door.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure really, he said it was a surprise. Something about an homage to the old park." I could already tell Simon was hooked. The man looked terrified of what monstrosity Lowery might unleash on his high rollers. "You OK? You look a little pale."
"I…it…that is not really the message we are trying to convey at the gala," Simon responded meekly.
I paused, pretending to think about the implications of Lowery sporting some gaudy, monstrosity of a suit and how that might impact donations. In reality I was trying to remember if I had anymore Twizzlers in my Jeep.
"Well, if you were worried about something like that you could always request he man the control room that night. There isn't really anyone else qualified to do it alone, and none of the investors would be anywhere near that floor." I felt bad manipulating Simon like this, but I found solace in the fact it was technically what he hired me to do.
Simon rapidly shook his head yes, smiling at me like I was a genius. All in all, it was almost too easy. By the time I left his office Lowery had been uninvited and reassigned to control room duty the night of the gala.
I walked back towards the elevator feeling like our plan was off to a pretty good start. I saw Zara whip by at the speed of light and was reminded I still had a major problem. I ran to catch up with her. Jeez, this woman was fast. She could definitely have a second career as an Olympic sprinter if being Claire's assistant didn't work out.
"Hey Zara, got a minute?" I yelled down the hall to slow her down.
"Jo, hi. What do you need?"
"Well, I don't know if you can help, but I'm not sure who else to ask. I have to go to the gala next month and I need a dress."
She smiled way too bright for someone getting saddled with a favor. It made me nervous and instantly suspicious.
"You're in luck, Ms. Dearing had a designer flown in to make her dress. She's still here so we can have her make yours too."
"I'm sorry, make a dress? No, I meant help me find a dress or maybe show me where to order one online," I clarified. They have that kind of stuff on Amazon, right?
"Jo, don't be ridiculous. Come on, I'll take you up there now," Zara said, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the elevator.
We exited on a private floor reserved for employee living quarters. Zara knocked on a door close to the elevator and a petite, dark haired woman answered.
"Hi Camila, I need a favor," Zara said gesturing to me, "I need one more dress."
"Of course Zara, please come in. I will get Ms. Abelli."
Zara and I were ushered into the living room where two other people smiled at us. Zara greeted them warmly explaining the predicament. They seemed pretty excited about getting a last minute assignment. I still didn't understand why we couldn't just find a dress at the gift shop or something, but Zara kept ignoring my suggestion so I let it go.
"So, are you all designers?" I asked the group.
All of them shook their heads no. "Oh no, we are just Ms. Abelli's assistants," answered one of them. They didn't look like assistants, they looked like a hip hop version of the Three Stooges.
I swung my head to Zara speaking quietly, "Assistants, as in plural? Zara, what are you doing? I don't need a custom made dress for this."
"Shhh," Zara dismissed me as Camila came back into the room.
At first I thought Camila was alone, but then I noticed something or rather someone behind her. She was about the size of a hobbit and probably just as old. She had on coke bottle glasses that made her eyes twice as big as they should be, a dress that in all honesty might be just a T-shirt, and her white hair was pulled back in a severe looking bun that gave me a headache looking at it. Her face was a mass of wrinkles upon wrinkles, she looked almost cartoonish.
She walked up to me, muttering in what sounded like Italian as she slowly walked around me in a slow circle. Every so often she would stop and call out something, which one of the Three Stooges would jot down studiously.
She stopped in front of me, barking out a command. I looked to Zara in question, I didn't speak Italian.
"You need to remove your clothes," said Stooge #2.
"Excuse me?" I'm positive I heard that wrong.
"She needs to take your measurements and to do it accurately you need to remove your clothes. You can keep your bra and panties on," Stooge #2 clarified.
"Aren't you supposed to at least buy me dinner first," I joked.
No one laughed, in fact, Bilbo looked really pissed. I may not speak Italian, but she spoke enough English to already dislike me. I was tempted to tell her she could take her ass back to The Shire, but I needed a dress. If I weren't careful she'd have me in something inspired by Pepto-Bismol.
Rolling my eyes I disrobed with as much dignity as I could muster considering I was standing in front of five strangers. At least I had the good sense to not wear granny panties today. Once I was done Stooge #3 produced a tape measure from somewhere, handing it to Bilbo. With the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew the four of them measured every inch of my body, dignity be dammed.
Thankfully the whole ordeal didn't take too long; unfortunately I had no idea what this had to do with a dress. Once I was dressed Zara was informed from Stooge #1 my dress would be done in a few weeks, and we were ushered towards the door.
"Wait, she didn't ask me what kind of dress I wanted," I informed Stooge #1.
She smiled condescendingly, "Ms. Abelli is a fashion innovator. Don't worry, you are in good hands."
"I don't want her innovating anything for me. I want simple, plain, boring even," I pleaded.
"Ms. Abelli doesn't do boring, but I assure you her creation will be revolutionary." She punctuated her remark with what I could only describe as Jazz Hands, and I felt a little sick. What had Zara gotten me into?
We were shuffled into the hallway, the door unceremoniously closed in our face. I looked at Zara panicked, but she just smiled like this was all normal. I hated to tell her, but was far from normal.
My dress was in the hands of a woman who could be a distant relative of Bilbo Baggins, and absolutely did not like me. I was probably going to end up wearing a bunny suit reminiscent of A Christmas Story.
I was in trouble.
Italian Rose: Wow! Thanks for the glowing review...it means a lot. Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter :)
sarahmichellegellarfan1: Glad you loved it!
Desert Vulpes Zerda: I know! I feel the same way...epic! Hopefully it reads as well as it looked in my head.
Malfoy-Whitlock-21: Don't worry, Jo's discrete "borrowing" skillz will be on point, LOL! Thanks for reading!
xxyangxx2006: You are right, good timing with the email, but I have a feeling Claire or Simon would have tracked them down in person eventually. Hope you enjoyed!
Skybluewolves: Yeah, Jo inspires those feelings in just about everyone :) Thanks for reading!
Princessdiana516: Ask and you shall receive :) Hope you liked it!
angelicedg: I'm glad you liked that...I always loved that line. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!