Chapter 2
Scottie added a quick note to the ticket she’d just resolved, documenting the steps she’d taken, then leaned back and stretched with a groan.
The help desk had finally quieted down. The steady stream of incoming tickets had trailed off, the phone had stopped ringing, and people no longer dropped by for a “quick question” that was never actually quick.
Maybe they could get out of here on time for a change. She glanced left and right to see if her colleagues needed help wrapping up their own work.
To her left, Gordon was speaking softly into his headset, walking someone through what sounded like a password reset. He hated leaving his desk and interacting with people face-to-face, but he had the patience of a saint when handling problems remotely.
His desk was as neat as always, not a cord out of place, and his leather briefcase sat packed up next to him. He looked like a banker ready to head home rather than an IT support specialist.
To her right, Mateo made entries in his daily log, his desk a study in contrast. A chaotic array of sticky notes was taped along both of his monitors, and several empty coffee cups vied for space with a Bluetooth adapter still in its package, a stack of service ticket printouts, and a clipboard buried beneath it all.
Scottie’s own desk, sandwiched between theirs, was a cheerful compromise. Her Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine rubber ducks flanked a bottle of screen cleaner, and her rainbow-backlit keyboard added a splash of color to the otherwise black equipment.
The soft ping of a new ticket notification interrupted their momentary peace.
Mateo groaned. “Five minutes to five. We’ll never get out of here on time.”
Gordon wrapped up his call, hung his headset on its stand, and ran a hand through his neatly parted graying hair. “Let me guess… Someone opened a phishing email despite our training last month?”
“My money is on Mr. Sorensen having accidentally deleted all his desktop shortcuts…again.” Mateo fished a wrinkled ten-dollar bill from his back pocket and slapped it on Scottie’s desk. “Scottie?”
“Someone can’t access the shared drive.” Scottie slid ten bucks on top of Mateo’s bill.
Wordlessly, Gordon followed suit.
Scottie leaned forward and glanced at one of her monitors, which always showed the queue of open tickets.
Only one remained.
“Keyboard issues,” Scottie announced.
They each withdrew their money from the pile and pocketed it.
Mateo laughed. “Maybe they can’t find the any key.”
They all chuckled. It wouldn’t be the first time someone took the message Press any key to continue literally and searched their keyboard for a key labeled any.
Scottie took a closer look at the ticket to see who had submitted it. “Willow Greene, Operations.”
“Is she new?” Mateo asked.
“Yeah,” Scottie said. “Must be the new operations coordinator.”
“They hired someone new?” Gordon asked. “What happened to Barb?”
“She’s retiring. You’d know that if you left your desk every now and then—or read the employee newsletter.” Scottie nudged him with her elbow.
“At least it’s not Mr. Sorensen,” Mateo said.
It was an open secret that the company’s COO had only gotten the job because he was engaged to their CEO’s daughter.
He treated every minor computer issue like a full-scale crisis that might plunge the company into ruin.
Naturally, he expected IT to drop everything else the moment his name appeared in their ticket queue.
“Thank God,” Mateo added. “So, who’s going?”
He and Gordon looked at each other. Both were happily married men with families waiting, defying the stereotype of the single IT nerd. Scottie was the only one who’d be going home to an empty apartment. Even after six months of being single, it still felt too quiet.
“I’ll take it.” Scottie didn’t mind staying longer, and she liked interacting with people all over the company.
Mateo playfully clutched his heart. “Our hero.” Then he sobered. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Probably a typical newbie problem. Should be a quick fix.” Scottie waved toward the door. “You two go home to your wives.”
“You need one of those, mi amiga.”
“Maybe she should start with a girlfriend,” Gordon threw in.
Scottie crossed her arms over her chest and gave them a look somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Are you two done discussing my love life?”
“Or lack thereof,” Gordon muttered.
“Well, who knows? Maybe our new operations coordinator is cute, single, and just waiting for an IT goddess to reboot her heart.” Mateo fluttered his lashes at Scottie.
She threw her Death Star stress ball at him.
“No, thanks. I’m still rebooting my own after my big system crash.
I’ll be in safe mode for a while.” She powered down her computer, got up, and grabbed her tool kit and a spare keyboard, just in case.
With a cheerful wave, she headed out and called back over her shoulder: “Don’t wait up for me, kids! ”
~ ~ ~
When Scottie pulled open the frosted glass door and entered the Operations bullpen, she thought she was prepared for anything: crumbs stuck beneath the keys, a newbie who didn’t know a wireless keyboard needed batteries, or someone accidentally hitting caps lock.
But she hadn’t expected to find the desk next to Barb’s workspace empty.
Wasn’t this where they had put the new operations coordinator? According to the employee newsletter, Barb would be showing her replacement the ropes, so it seemed like the logical choice.
She looked around.
Half the Operations staff had either already left or was packing up. Of course, Celeste Covey was still working away at her desk, sticking her head out of her cubicle just long enough to steer Scottie in the right direction—toward the empty workspace next to Barb’s.
Scottie paused mid-step.
The desk wasn’t actually empty.
A pair of long, slender, pantyhose-clad legs and a shapely behind in a pencil skirt were sticking out from under it. Operation’s newest employee was on her hands and knees, probably checking the connections.
That was unexpected. Most users just sat there, twiddling their thumbs, while they waited for the cavalry to arrive. This one seemed to be proactive. Nice. And so were the lean muscles in her calves.
Jesus, Scottie! Work call, remember? She had no business noticing the woman’s calves or any other body part!
Scottie coughed to announce her presence.
A thump and a muffled squeak came from under the desk, then a head of dark-brown, shoulder-length hair appeared. Gracefully, the woman crawled out of the confined space and stood. She unfolded her slim frame to a full five foot nine, the same height as Scottie, which didn’t happen very often.
But compared to Scottie, the woman appeared almost delicate, with long limbs and narrow wrists.
She looked a few years younger than Scottie, probably in her early thirties.
Her cheeks were pink, either from the effort of crawling beneath the desk or the embarrassment of having been caught there.
She swept her hair behind both ears, which gave her a studious look, then made sure her pastel-lavender blouse was still tucked in at the waist. A black blazer hung from the back of her chair.
Her outfit wasn’t unusual at all. It made her blend right in with the other admin staff, almost like office camouflage. She wasn’t wearing jewelry, not even a wristwatch.
And yet something about her made Scottie’s gaze want to linger on the new hire. Not because Willow was trying to stand out, but because she clearly wasn’t.
She realized she was staring and quickly covered it up by tucking the spare keyboard beneath her left arm and sticking out her hand. “Hi, I’m Scottie from IT.”
The woman paused. “Scottie?”
Scottie grinned and shrugged, long since used to that kind of reaction. “What can I say? I’m a Trekkie, and I’ve always liked fixing things, even as a kid. Plus my last name is Prescott, so the nickname stuck.”
“Ah. Willow Greene. No nickname.” Her smile was professional and guarded, but her long lashes lent an unexpected softness to the sharp intelligence in her hazel eyes, which peered out from behind glasses with black, rectangular frames.
As Willow reached forward with her right hand, she brushed the metal handle of her desk drawer with her left.
It looked like a casual, coincidental touch, but that didn’t fit the way she moved—elegant yet precise and contained, as if she was always overly aware of whatever she touched.
Her slim fingers wrapped around Scottie’s with an unexpected strength and gave a quick shake.
“So…” Scottie cleared her throat. “You’re having keyboard issues? What exactly is the problem?”
“My keyboard keeps freezing. At first, it was just lagging, but then it stopped responding entirely. I’ve tried restarting, checking the cables, plugging it into a different USB port, and even putting in new batteries, but it’s still not working.
” Willow gestured at her desk drawer, which was sitting a few inches ajar—just enough for Scottie to glimpse an impressive assortment of batteries: AA, AAA, C, D, and even different button cell batteries.
Oh wow. Scottie had seen hardware stores that weren’t as well-stocked! She let out a low whistle. “Impressive collection!”
Willow nudged the drawer closed as if she hadn’t meant for Scottie to see its contents.
“Hey, that’s a good thing,” Scottie said quickly. She offered a smile, hoping to put her at ease. “I like a woman who’s prepared for anything.”
Willow’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink, but she didn’t respond.
Scottie took the hint. Time to be a professional. “So, the keyboard problem… Does it happen in all applications or just in one?”
“I was running some simulations in the Sandbox when it first happened,” Willow replied. “But as far as I can tell, it happens everywhere.”
“Okay, then let’s take a look.” Scottie set her tool kit and the spare keyboard down. She rubbed her hands together as if to warm them and gestured at Willow’s office chair. “May I?”