The chopper had already lifted away, Reese realized, and was winging a path over the heliport and out over the ocean. He held on to Kenzie’s hand and began to relax.
Less than an hour later, he spotted the platform, rising like a metal giant out of the sea. Four pillars pushed the Poseidon nearly two hundred feet above the surface of the water. As the chopper circled, Reese took in the twenty-story structure that produced a hundred-thousand barrels of oil a day, and housed the eighty-plus employees who lived and worked on the rig.
The chopper continued its descent, its wheels settling lightly on the helo pad angled out over the ocean, and the blades began to slow. The doors slid open. They ducked as they ran across the pad to join the three men waiting to greet them, including Dave Pierce, Poseidon’s installation manager.
“Welcome aboard,” Dave said, the stiff wind ruffling his thick red hair. The chopper engine made it hard to hear. Reese shook Pierce’s hand and introduced Kenzie, and Dave introduced the other two guys who would be showing them around.
“Let’s get inside where it’s not so noisy and I’ll show you what goes on around here.”
Kenzie and Reese followed Pierce and his men down a set of metal stairs into what appeared to be one of the data control centers.
Five men and one woman, dressed in the yellow coveralls worn by the Poseidon crew, sat in front of a bank of dials and gauges, watching production levels and God only knew what else.
They went from one room to another, one level to the next, Dave Pierce or one of the other men rattling off complicated explanations of the different work done by the massive drilling equipment.
They talked about blowout valves, cement-lined casings, and all the other important safety precautions in place. Reese asked poignant questions and seemed to comprehend most of what was being said, but the lengthy discussion of machinery and equipment was putting Kenzie to sleep. Which Reese seemed to sense.
When they reached the cafeteria, he pulled her aside. “We’ll be coming back here to eat when the tour is over. In the meantime I’d like to get your take on employee morale, what their workdays are like, their family life, that kind of thing. I think it would be more productive for you to talk to some of the crew while I finish the tour of the rig.”
Relieved, Kenzie smiled and nodded. “I can handle that.” Reese left with the men and Kenzie pushed through the doors leading into the cafeteria. She paused next to a heavyset man with thinning gray hair and asked how to get a cup of coffee.
“Just head in that direction, ma’am.” He pointed toward a line of thermal containers and stacks of paper cups against the wall. “They never run out. With twenty-four-hour shifts seven days a week, coffee is the lifeblood of this place.”
“I can understand that. Thanks.” Kenzie headed across the room and poured a cup of coffee from the container of French roast next to the decaf, then walked over to speak to one of the few women she had seen among the crew.
Introducing herself and explaining her interest, she sat down at the table with a safety engineer named Marty DeSalvo.
“I’ve been wondering what it’s like to work here.” Kenzie sipped her coffee, which was fresh and hot and strong.
“It’s not an easy lifestyle, that’s for sure.” Marty, a small woman with heavy black hair and a pretty face, explained that there were few women on the rig because it was difficult for them to be separated from their children for two weeks at a time.
“For me and my husband, it works. We don’t have any kids and he’s a salesman, so he sets his own schedule. My two weeks off gives us a chance to travel, something we both really enjoy.”
Kenzie spoke to a few of the men and got similar answers. Leaving home every two weeks wasn’t easy, but having two weeks off all at once had its advantages, and the pay was good.
A guy named Joe Wickersham warned her that rig life wasn’t for everyone. “There ain’t no windows in your room, you know? So you got a problem with enclosed spaces, this ain’t the job for you.”
She was beginning to understand that. The cafeteria was big, with plenty of lighting, lots of tables, and room to move around, but you couldn’t see outside. In a lot of ways, the rig was like a giant submarine. She would be glad when they were headed back home.
Her gaze went to the door as Reese walked in. The man with him was taller, more muscular, with a thick barrel chest. But it was Reese who dominated the space, clearly the man in control.
Her pulse kicked up the way it always did. As he strode toward her, she felt the same spike of awareness that hit her every morning when he walked into the office.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Great. It’s an interesting life. It’s not for me, that’s for sure, but the people who work here seem happy with their jobs.”
He nodded. “Good to hear.” He glanced around the room, taking note of available tables. “Let’s get something to eat.” They went through a line that offered a variety of food, everything from lettuce wraps to enchiladas to good old American standards like burgers and chili.
Good food was important on a rig.
“There’s a supply ship on the way,” Reese said as they sat down across from Dave Pierce and the big guy he had walked in with, Tony Sandini. “We’re scheduled to go for a ride, take a look at the rig from the water. You like the ocean, right? You don’t get seasick or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Soon as we’ve finished our boat ride, we’ll take off back to Houston.” His gaze heated. “I’ve got plans for us tonight.”
Kenzie’s stomach contracted. He just had to look at her the way he was now and she wanted him. She swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”
