Blokes Down Under: An Aussie MM Novella Collection by Louisa Masters

Author:Louisa Masters [Masters, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-12T18:30:00+00:00

I keep my mouth shut for the first part of the drive. Paul looked grumpy as hell when he came back from wherever and packed up his laptop and shit, so I followed him out to his car without saying anything to further antagonise him. After all, I need him to be on my side, not plotting to dump me by the side of the highway. He takes a couple of calls—it’s the lot in life of a project manager to be surgically attached to a phone—but we’re headed northeast out of Perth on Toodyay Road before I speak up. I’m mentally picturing the rollout map and how far along Paul’s team is with the sites, trying to narrow down which one we could be headed for.

Finally, I just ask. It’s as good a way to begin conversation as any, right?

“Which site are we headed to?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but answers readily enough. “Beacon.”

The map in my mind’s eye isn’t great, but I made a point of familiarising myself with Paul’s sites and progress before coming to Perth, so I have a decent idea of where we’re going. If I’m remembering right, the Beacon site is out towards the edge of the “blanket” coverage area. Further north and east of there, network coverage will be confined to corridors along the highways and patches where there’s denser population. I’m not sure exactly how long the drive will be, but I figure about three or four hours each way, and we’re only forty-five minutes in.

Perfect.

“We could sit in silence the whole way, but that would defeat the purpose of me being here, so I’m going to talk. You can pretend not to listen if you like.” I really hope he doesn’t take me up on that. I said it more to break the ice than anything else, but I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth.

I hurry on. “First up, I want to apologise on behalf of all resource managers everywhere for the dipshit you had to deal with before.” Not strictly professional, but hey. “I can’t tell you how much crap he left us to wade through, and how thankful I am that you told him to get fucked and sorted out your own resourcing.” That’s laying it on a little thick, but none of it’s untrue.

“I didn’t tell him to get fucked,” Paul corrects, and I seize on the opportunity to make a connection.

“Sorry, yeah, it was ‘go fuck yourself with a cactus,’ right?”

A smile tugs at his mouth. It doesn’t quite develop, but the self-satisfied expression on his profile says it all.

“You heard about that, huh?”

I chuckle, not bothering to try and stifle it. “It’s made the rounds of the office. Dipshit made a formal complaint, but somehow the paperwork still hasn’t been lodged with HR. It just keeps getting emailed from person to person.” Nobody is going to lodge that paperwork. It would take a much more serious and offensive insult between equals than “fuck yourself” for more than a verbal reprimand.

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