Love Shack (The 80's Baby Series) by Poppy Parkes

Author:Poppy Parkes [Parkes, Poppy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Parkes Publishing
Published: 2021-02-08T05:00:00+00:00

Mike

My morning at the office is packed to the max. I’ve got meetings with contractors, meetings with clients, meetings with the higher-ups, meetings with the drafters and my fellow senior engineers.

I’m not only good at my job; I love it. The high-paced, high-stakes atmosphere, how every project is a unique and interesting challenge, the way some jobs allow me to travel outside Pine Grove — I thrive on it.

But today, through it all runs a current of awareness of Tracy.

I’m going to call the hotline on my lunch break and ask for her.

Okay, full disclosure — I’ve actually already called the hotline today. When I first got into the office. I’d wanted to know Tracy’s availability so I could structure my day around hers if possible.

She gets on at eleven o’clock.

I’m taking an early lunch so, with any luck, I can be the first one ringing her up.

I hope.

One of my coworkers, Mick, is saying something about allowable stress and pattern loadings. I nod vaguely, but my eyes are on the clock. Just a few more minutes before this lot clears out — they’ve got another meeting on the books that I’m thankfully not required to be at — and then I can call Tracy.

As with yesterday, it’ll be just talk. No funny business. That’s how I’m rationalizing using my company phone.

I have to talk with her, at least for a little while. No matter how much I’ve tried to reason with myself, I can’t get her out of my head.

Five minutes to go.

Three minutes.

One.

It’s time.

I stand abruptly, all eyes shooting to me.

“Uh, wasn’t there supposed to be another meeting after this one?” I stammer. The back of my neck heats in embarrassment. “I don’t want you all getting into hot water with the boss.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Mick says, throwing his pencil down on his clipboard. “I nearly forgot. You’re a lifesaver.” He stands and claps me gratefully on the shoulder, then heads out. The rest of our coworkers follow him.

I’m left standing in my emptied office feeling like a fool.

Which I probably am.

But I’m a fool who gets to talk to Tracy.

Striding to the door, I close it and press the button on the handle, locking it. I draw the blinds on the window facing into the rest of the office, then hurry to my desk.

Perching on the edge of my chair, I grab the phone and, digging the paper I scribbled it on from my pocket, dial the hotline’s number.

The main operator picks up, and I ask for Tracy’s Love Shack. The operator says she’ll put me through.

Heart in my throat, palm suddenly sweating against the receiver I’m pressing to my ear, I wait.

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