Page 1 of The Swap After Hours

CHAPTER 1

TREVOR

“Come on, Trixie! Don’t do this to me now,” I pleaded.

I rubbed my hand over the dashboard of my old Honda, coaxing her gently. She chugged along the busy street, struggling to keep pace with the newer vehicles that hurriedly swerved around us, a few drivers shouting and gesturing rudely with one finger as they sped past.

She’d been four years old and already had several thousand miles on her when I bought her. With her shiny blue exterior and black leather seats she was in much better shape than any of the other cars on the used lot and frankly, nicer than anything I’d expected to find within my price range—which was next to nothing. Best of all, she was reliable.

Trixie was thirteen now. Her blue paint was rusted in spots, the leather seats cracked and split exposing yellow cushioning inside, and one headlight was held together with only duct tape and a prayer.

But she’d seen me through numerous odd jobs, a couple of failed relationships, and one crazy—yet memorable—road trip with my best friend the summer before we headed off to college. She was a part of my history, a trustworthy friend, and I wasn’t ready to give up on her just yet. Besides, my job as an IT consultant barely paid the bills, much less afforded luxuries like a new car.

I’d fought like hell to put myself through college, taking classes during the day and working jobs in the evenings for minimum wage then staying up late each night, studying and writing papers. It was exhausting and left absolutely no time for a social life, but in the end, I’d earned my degree in computer engineering and software design. Totally worth it. Or so I thought.

Every interview I’d been to had turned out the same. “You show great potential, Mr. Reed. Your knowledge of troubleshooting and Active Directory are quite impressive and I’m sure you’d make an excellent addition to our team, but we’re looking for someone with a little more…experience.”

As it turned out, companies only wanted people with at least five years’ experience. But how was I supposed to gain any experience if no one would hire me?

It was a catch twenty-two and frustrating beyond belief, but I continued to hold out hope that someone, someday, would give me a chance. I just had to keep my head above water until then.

Luck was on my side as I found an open space near the building and maneuvered Trixie into it. She made a loud wheezing noise as I shut off her engine and an embarrassing black plume of smoke billowed up from under her hood. I didn’t know the first thing about cars, but even I knew that wasn’t good.

My shoulders slumped. It looked like I was going to have to scrape together enough money to get a new car after all. And soon. So much for keeping my head above water. I ignored the people walking by; men and women in fine looking clothes who turned to stare at me with wrinkled up noses or worse, pity.

I grabbed my bag of equipment off the passenger seat and climbed out, already calculating how long I thought it would take me to save up for a new car if I got a second job in the evenings.

Fortunately, I lived with my best friend—who also happened to be a caterer—so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry. Doug was always bringing leftover food home from work. Unfortunately, it looked like I was going to be riding the bus or taking the subway for the foreseeable future.

With that depressing thought in mind, I made my way inside. Marshall Industries was a large corporation and one of our best customers, preferring to outsource all their computer needs rather than housing their own IT department like many other companies did. It was a smart move on their part, saving them a ton of money each year in salaries and insurance since they only needed to call us if there was an issue.

The lobby of the building was as busy as the street outside. People rushed around, briefcases in hand, shoes clicking against the polished marble floors, somehow managing not to run into each other despite their eyes being glued to their phones.

I pulled my own out and double-checked the text from Jake, our office manager at Tech Solutions. Whenever a call came through for a job, he’d send a text to the nearest available consultant. Today, that happened to be me.

Drive recovery on the…fifteenth floor. My eyebrows shot up. The top floor. Everyone knew the top floor of any building was reserved for the company’s elite, CEOs, COOs, etc. I’d worked in this building many times, but never up high enough to be around the bigwigs. The security guard was busy assistant an older gentleman, so I went on, making a beeline to the elevators.

Nerves sliced through me as I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. The door slid closed, and I glanced down at myself, taking inventory of my appearance. Shit! I’d been so frazzled by my car breaking down that I’d completely forgotten to grab my ID badge out of the glove box.

Oh well. No time to go back and get it now. As usual, Jake had already sent three more texts with jobs I needed to get to after this one. IT help was in constant demand, and I knew the jobs would continue to roll in until I was finally off the clock and could drag my exhausted butt home.

I straightened my tie and made sure my button-down shirt was tucked in properly. Even though my job often required me to climb up into dusty ceilings to run new wires or had me crawling under someone’s desk to take apart their processor, I tried to always look professional.

The doors slid open to a large open space. Unlike the cool marble floors of the lobby, these were rich hardwood. The real kind, not the vinyl look-alike stuff most places used these days.

Sleek, modern furniture made up a small waiting area in the middle and beautiful sconces—which probably cost more than I made in a week—let off soft light that warmed the space. The whole thing screamed of money and prestige, two things I’d never had much experience with, growing up as a poor kid in Indiana.

Along the back wall, a long wooden desk separated the waiting area from the reception area. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled my nose as I walked towards it. I’d always loved the smell of coffee but could never understand how anyone could drink something so bitter and vile.

A woman sat behind the desk, her blonde hair perfectly styled in a neat twist, her fingers flying furiously over the keyboard. She glanced up at me through wire-rimmed glasses, her painted red lips curling into a smile. “May I help you?”

I smiled back. “Hi. I’m Trevor—” was all I managed to get out before her eyes flew open and she jumped to her feet, her desk chair sliding away abruptly and nearly crashing into one of the filing cabinets behind her. My eyebrows darted up in surprise, the rest of my introduction dying on my lips.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” She rushed around from behind the desk, grabbing my elbow with her slender fingers. “This way. Hurry! You’re already fifteen minutes late and Mr. Marshall doesn’t tolerate tardiness,” she scolded.

I let her drag me down a long hallway and past several closed doors. She moved surprisingly fast for someone wearing high heels.

I ran her words through my head again but none of it made any sense. Jake never promised clients that we’d be there by a certain time since we never knew exactly what issue we were dealing with or how long it might take to fix it until we got a system in front of us. He simply told them we’d get there as soon as possible then added them to our queue.