The Fine Print

“I don’t need you trying to micromanage me. Have a little trust in my process and let me go about this my way. I’ve already proven myself.” 

Declan rubs a hand across his stubble. “There’s a lot more banking on this one project. If any of us fails—”

My molars smash together. “Then we all fail. I got it the first five times you mentioned it. Give me space to figure this all out. You don’t see me chasing after you, checking in on whether or not you found a wife that meets your unreasonable standards.” 

“There are no standards in this process because it’s a contractual obligation. All I care about is finding someone who’s practical, fertile, and has a face considered proportionate enough to be deemed attractive.” 

Cal grins. “With that kind of charm, I bet you’ll be walking down the aisle in no time.” 

Declan shoots a withering glare into the camera. 

“Will I be your best man? Before you decide, think about it. Rowan wouldn’t know the first thing about pla

“That’s because it is a good time.” 

“Think about it. I’m talking Vegas. Buffets. Strip clubs. Casinos.” Cal ticks off each of his fingers. 

“If you’re trying to sell me on this, you lost me at Vegas.” 

I laugh. “Declan’s happy place happens to be the four walls of his home.” 

Cal rubs his stubbled chin. “Okay. I’ll compromise and bring Vegas to you.” 

“Neither of you will be my best man because I’m eloping.” 

Cal scoffs. “You and Rowan are so boring it’s no wonder you both get along so well. Only you would skip out on a massive party for eloping.” 

Declan shows off the small smile he saves for us. “You sound jealous.” 

“Mr. Kane. Mr. Johnson is waiting on line one. A fair warning—he’s in a foul mood.” Declan’s mic picks up on Iris’s voice. 

“Old man Johnson still giving Iris a hard time?” Cal leans forward. 

“Did he threaten you again?” He mutes his mic. Whatever Iris says makes the vein in Declan’s neck pulse. 

Declan shakes his head and unmutes his mic after a minute. 

Cal frowns. “One day, you’re going to regret making Iris work on weekends. The best years of her life are ticking by taking care of your old, grumpy ass.” 

Declan’s jaw ticks. “Next week. Same time.” He ends the meeting call, leaving me with nothing to look at but a black screen.  

Instead of going home and making di

Nothing in my preliminary search reveals much besides the fact that she’s been a dedicated salon worker since her college internship days. 

Frustrated with my lack of findings, I dive deeper into her file, reviewing everything from her first Dreamland interview to her college transcripts. I somehow find myself clicking on an old employee submission from over three years ago and scrolling to the bottom. There’s a virtual sticky note, signed and dated by my grandfather two months before his accident. 

Schedule a meeting with Ms. Gulian to discuss rejection and improvements. 

I review the paperwork again. Zahra submitted a proposal about Nebula Land? That’s odd, given the kind of proposal she turned in that ripped the ride apart. 

I pull up the Nebula Land submission that was accepted by the Creators two years ago and compare Zahra’s to this version. Someone named Lance Baker submitted the idea with a few more bells and whistles compared to Zahra’s more basic proposal. How did they both come up with similar ideas? Were they creative partners who had a dispute? 

My questions continue to grow without any real answers to appease my curiosity. I search Zahra’s file for more submissions but come up empty. She didn’t submit any after the one my grandfather reviewed until this year. 

What made her stop in the first place? And who the hell is Lance Baker?