Not a Single Dollar Sign

Palmer Olsen sat atop the white rollercoaster’s metal support platform, overlooking the glassy lake—a punishing shift completed, yet a vital conundrum still unraveled.

“Hey! Park’s closed! What’d you think you’re doing?”

Snapped into reality, Palmer spun his torso toward the noise.

“What—were you trying to scare me? Your voice is the least intimidating I’ve ever heard, Ruby,” he said.

From behind his secluded perch, the black-haired lass stood with her turquoise backpack over one shoulder. Her slender shadow stretched from the nearby overhead path light, its faint buzzing the only sound invading the late-summer night.

“Well, not all of us are on the security payroll. Did Mister Cox not find you over here?” She asked as she sauntered forward.

“Ole Dante? I doubt he would even notice if this entire coaster was running—much less me sitting here.” He tapped the steel support behind him, the timeless Sun-kissed Coaster and its 180-foot drop towering overhead into the starry sky.

“What’re you doing here so late, anyway?” Palmer asked.

“Oh, it took a while to close up today…You want to hear how nasty it was?”

“Surely not worse than the chocolate explosion incident?”

“Mmm, well that wasn’t too bad to clean once I knew it was ice cream and not you know what,” Ruby said, dropping her bag to the asphalt.

“Here, I gotcha.” And with his arm extended, Palmer helped the cheerful cashier join him on the sturdy platform.

“My legs are beat—thanks,” she uttered. With one hand on Palmer’s shoulder, Ruby lowered herself, wrapping her arms under her knees and letting her black Chuck 70s jut over the edge.

“So, what’s the latest news from behind the counter at Candies and Cream?” He asked before wiping his forehead on his steel-blue coveralls.

“Ooo, yeah. Today was just an average Thursday shift, handing out samples and clearing sticky tables. There was sooo much foot traffic! I figure because it’s the last weekend before most grade schools start up again.”

“Yeah, probably. Not to mention it was scorching hot.”

“Right? Oh, I’m sorry. Terrible day for ride maintenance, huh?”

“Nope. Lucky you, holed up inside by the eight degree freezers all day,” Palmer said. “I’d have stopped to see you for a double scoop myself, but Isaac needed extra hands on the Forest Flyer.”

 “Hey, that still must be better than parading around in a musty tiger suit like you did when I first met you.”

The two shared a glance before Palmer rolled his eyes.

“Ha, I guess so. Decent money in that, by the way. Are you looking for a promotion?”

“Aw, heck no! That surprisingly still sounds worse than what I dealt with today.”

“Right, I already forgot,” he said, tapping Ruby’s bare knee. “You’re selling ice cream, looking cute in your purple apron and cut-off shorts, chilling near the fancy freezers, and what nastiness disturbed your haven?”

“Oh my gosh. It’s like ten minutes before closing, and a guy comes in—drunk as all get out. He stares at the menu, staggering in this Brewers tank top, face and arms beat red,” she said, raising her shoulders and rocking her head in imitation. “I ask him what he wants, and he starts belting ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’”

“To the place…I belooong.”

“Exactly! Except further out of tune…and holding a plastic spoon for a microphone.”

“What a clown,” Palmer said with a chuckle.

“Ugh. Mind you, I’m moments away from sweeping the floor, closing the cash register, and locking up for the night.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Anyway, this buffoon keeps muttering stuff about roads and stumbling back and forth. I was ready to dial Mister Cox to escort this man to the curb, but I finally realized what he was trying to order that entire time…Rocky road!”

“Oh, shhh—oot.” And Palmer cleared his throat.

“Yesss. So, I prepare a double cone for him and ring it up. He hands me a five-dollar bill and says, ‘Thank ye, Mount’n Ma-ma.’ Proceeds to shove it into his face and pukes right beside the exit,” Ruby said, flinging her arms out as if pointing to the mishap.

“Yuck, yuck, yuck.”

“I know! And then he steps through the door and does the exact same thing outside,” she said, clenching her right fist. “So, I had to deal with the floor inside, plus hooking up the hose around back and spraying the second giant puddle of rocky road vomit from mister-wanna-be Denver and his late night inebriation.”

“Sorry, Miss Mama. At least he paid.”

“Palmer! That sounds so much like something your fa—oh, I…I didn’t mean…” Ruby tucked her shoulder-length hair behind both ears and returned her arms under her knees. “Never mind.”

“Nah, it’s okay…I was joking, anyway,” Palmer replied. “He should apologize to you for licensing alcohol at the wondrous Olsen Theme Park. You’d have gone home on time tonight if it wasn’t for him and his ever-evolving greed.”

In the soft light, the shallow lake glistened, reflecting a time before the area had fused nostalgic amusement rides with modern-day capitalist fervor. Many families still visited March through October without complaint of rising ticket prices and no-longer-free amenities—all at the decision of Mr. Kenneth Olsen.

“Hey, speaking of going home tonight, what’re you still doing here?” Ruby asked. “Why the lonely pondering at the water's edge?”

“Eh, it’s uh…family stuff, I guess,” Palmer said, scratching his spiky blonde hair. “Probably the most generic way to put it.”

“Oh, jeez. Your father? I mean…how is he doing? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He’s uhhh…well, it’s a whole mess.”

“Ooo…like, rocky road vomit kind of mess?”

“Ah, not that disgusting…but the situation itself is a rocky road…of sorts.”

Meanwhile, a wedge of seven geese passed overhead, honking as they broke the air. From the secluded platform, Ruby squirmed next to the Olsen boy. As the avian echoes faded in the distance, she turned her face toward the open water, releasing a slow breath.

“You can tell me,” she uttered. “Unless it’s too private, of course. I can, like, I’ll—”

“It’s okay, Ruby. I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Hurt? Palmer, what is going on?”

The weary maintenance tech closed his eyes and wiped his forehead backhandedly.

“My dad’s pretty much gone…even maxed-out life support isn’t curing a thing.” He swiped his pants’ leg, making a sharp swoosh in the stillness. “So, the park board has called for a meeting to vote for proceedings, and figure out what the hell—I mean, heck—to do from here.”

“Not to interrupt, but I just want to say, I don’t mind the swear words,” Ruby said, nudging Palmer’s near shoulder.

“Right, right. I forget you’re two semesters from becoming a college graduate. Not so sheltered anymore.”

“Please. Swear words, vomit piles, inept coworkers—three summers at this place have unsheltered me wayyy more than studying around campus.”

“Yeah, well, regardless, be careful how you use that degree someday. Me not having one is…part of the issue at hand,” Palmer said.

“Huh, what do you mean?”

Palmer placed his sweaty palms on the platform to straighten up. Before speaking, he undid his top’s highest button and let out a long exhale.

“My dad’s made arrangements with his deputy to nominate me as the next managing park owner and operator.”

“Oh my gosh! Palmer! That’s incredible!” Ruby raised her hands into a rapid clap. “I mean, all nepotism aside, you’re easily like the most qualified person to run everything.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask to be in the infamous Olsen family…but dammit if I don’t love this park and all the joy it creates year after year.”

“I know,” she sighed, wiggling the ends of her sneakers. “So what’s the problem? Something about a degree?”

“Yeah, so…Shane…he disagrees with our dad.”

“Ugh. Your brother? Really?”

“Mhm. He uh…threatened me, I guess? That’s a mild way to put it.”

“Wait, what’d he do?” Ruby asked, turning her torso toward Palmer.

“He must’ve found out the same day I did about dad’s pending request. And he called me saying he should be entitled to run the show. He’s all high and mighty about his recently-acquired Stanford business degree. Of course, he sees the world in nothing but dollar signs…Forgets about humanity…Decency.”

“Grrr. I hate this guy.”

“You’ve never even met him.”

“He’s never even visited the park!” Ruby shouted. “Why the heck does he think he’s entitled to anything? No way he’s ever refilled a soda machine, or entertained kids in a boiling tiger costume, much less fixed an actual ride that makes this place incredible!”

Ruby scoffed and pinched the shoulders of her pink crop top. Meanwhile, Palmer rested his head against the steel post behind him, feeling the screams of every park guest as they had experienced the coaster’s intense drop.

“You’re a hundred percent correct, Ruby. But ‘businessmen’ don’t care. They’ll bend and break any and every rule to make another buck, I swear.”

“And Shane’s trying to bypass the board, or what?”

“In a way…he’s not above uhhh…blackmail.”

“Are you serious? He’s blackmailing the board?”

“Ah, nope,” Palmer said, shaking his head. “Not the board.”

“Huh? Then who? Your father?”

“I’m sure he thought about it…but no. He’s too foolish to try and outplay this city’s supreme tycoon.”

“Wait…no! You?!”

Ruby pointed at the Olsen boy beside her. With a scrunched face, he nodded and corralled Ruby’s raised hand, lowering it to the gap between them.

“…He told me he’d burn down the park unless I passed my dad’s nomination to him.”

“Palmer! Are you kidding?! What a—a—psychopath!”

“That’s my little bro.”

“Oh my gosh…can’t you tell the board? Or better yet, call the cops?!”

“I’m not sure,” he whispered, a hefty lump in his throat. “I came up here an hour ago searching for an answer…”

With the day’s guests long gone, Olsen Theme Park rested in the stillness between the surrounding maple tree forest. Fifty-five years of physical upkeep and expansion meant nothing without the endless energy every visitor provided. Once a first-time visitor herself, Ruby rubbed her fingertips along the platform, the grit warning her of what might become ashy remains.

“Well, how much more time do you have? We have to think of something.”

“We? No way, Ruby. I appreciate you lending an ear and all, but you need to stay the hell out of this.”

“Seriously? C’mon, man! Were you planning to just sit here and burn to death while Shane—”

“No, no, no. Listen, it’s late enough. Let’s get out of here,” Palmer said, hoisting his body down to the pavement. “I can think of something for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! What’s tomorrow?” And Ruby hopped down, swiftly grabbing Palmer’s shoulder to face each other.

“Ah, well, uh, the entire board meets in the morning…to vote.”

“So you have—what—twelve hours to devise a plan?”

“Give or take,” Palmer said with a sigh.

The overhead path light’s buzzing had returned to the scene. Meanwhile, Ruby held her hands on her hips, flashing her amber eyes between the pesky light and the troubled heir.

“Will Shane be at this meeting, too?” She asked.

“Yeah. First time I’ll have seen him in years. First time we’ll have spoken since he called a few weeks ago. Oh, here—let me get your bag.” And Palmer stepped to retrieve it.

“Hmm…is there any way you can get me into this meeting?”

“Ruby, what?”

“I’m asking—can you get me into that board room?”

“I mean, yeah…I guess,” he said, pinching his chin. “But what ab—”

“You trust me, right?”

“What? Of course, I do. But this is life and death we’re talking about!”

“Well, I have an idea…Unless you’re content with freezing in your whole rock-and-a-hard-place situation.”

“No, obviously I’m not,” Palmer said as the two moved toward the park exit. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Ruby grinned and continued, “how good are you with sound equipment? Like microphones, speakers, that sort of stuff.”

“Uhhh, I’d say I’m decent. I had to rewire the entire sound system in the bumper car arena about a month ago. Suppose I got it working good as new, if that counts?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! And now I’m sooo thankful I kept my electronics kit from last semester’s lab.”

“Wait, the ice cream girl is an electrician?”

“Ha ha, very funny. It was just an elective. C’mon—we’ve got to get to my place and get to work!”

With a clap, Ruby sprinted ahead, her sneakers slapping the worn asphalt. Palmer’s admiration for her induced a smile, and he slipped her backpack onto both shoulders before accelerating into a jog. As the eldest Olsen boy passed the park’s hallowed metal rides, he heard the day’s screams and laughter sprinkling the air. The taste of cherry cotton candy and sea salt fries tickled his mouth. And with his eyes wide open, he saw the determined girl, the robust park—and not a single dollar sign.