I had a drink of coffee and groaned with bliss.
“The next time we met at the regional meeting, I won. Rebecca’s face was a picture as they handed me my certificate and the heart-shaped trophy. They literally took it from her grasp. She’d leaned over at the point they said, ‘This month’s winner is’. Then she made up some crap about how she’d been ready to hand it over to the winner and how pleased she was for me. Yeah, right. And what made it worse was that everyone was so pleased she’d not won that they applauded me extra loudly and whooped and cheered. But I was pleased. Pleased that the underdog had triumphed and so I carried on using Shelley’s figures. Rebecca became increasingly bitter. You could see it in the set of her jaw. I heard she was asking people my methods, but of course no one had a clue. But she found out. It was only a matter of time. I don’t know how, but she found out I was using the agency figures. The next thing I knew, I was being audited. I had a gut feeling it was down to her, but I didn’t get proof until the spa day. But there was no way that bitch was winning against me, so I went out and made a stack of matches that month. It drove her further into a rage. Then came the spa day out arranged for the region.”
“Carry on.”
“Cupid HQ arranged for us to have a relaxing day out. Everyone was invited from Yorkshire and the Humber. There was to be a presentation of who was top in the region. It wasn’t me, but Rebecca was bricking herself that it was. She couldn’t cope with thinking it could be me.”
“How did you know this?”
“It was written all over her face every time I saw her and she was always asking the others about me. They’d text and tell me. As we were coming out of the steam room, she whispered to me that she had been the one who’d found out I was using the dating agency figures and she was going to expose me to the others at lunch. Truth was, I didn’t much care. I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. Like I said, there was nothing on the form to say I couldn’t use them. But she was about to overshadow the ceremony. Someone was about to have their moment for all the work they’d done and she wanted to make it about her again. So I gave her the spotlight she wanted. I told everyone her pubes were on show. She left pretty damn quick and then we were able to get on with the presentation. We forgot about her hairy mary the minute she left and the rest of the afternoon was fabulous.”
“And then?”
“Then she was contacted by Satan, and the Queen of Withernsea had to step in as Rebecca was being used for his evil gain. Charlie, the Queen, gave Rebecca an idea of how Cupid Inc could move forwards and she took that to the business. Now Cupid Inc is being overhauled and Rebecca is once again taking the kudos while she sits minding Withernsea as well as her own patch. Meanwhile I’m in training for being unable to meet my figures and failing as a Cupid. She’s back on her throne of glory, enjoying her fame, when the idea was Charlie’s, not hers. It pisses me off.”
I stared at Jessica.
“She’s held up as our shining example and I’m here in counselling.”
Jessica steepled her fingers. “Well, I’m not supposed to get directly involved but I have to say you’ve raised some interesting points that I shall be exploring further.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t bother. I don’t want anyone else having to suffer because they crossed her. I was drugged earlier, probably by her brother. Don’t risk your own career.”
She made further notes.
“Just before we finish this session. Can I ask why you have a grooming salon? You always told people it was a cover to the fact you’re a Cupid. Something to present to the human population. Is that truly the case?”
I shook my head. “No. I opened the grooming parlour because that’s what I adore. Spending my time with animals who trust you unconditionally. If they’re assholes it’s because they’re scared. Once I have their trust, they’re amazing. I never asked to be a Cupid. I was forced into it through my bloodline. Now I can’t leave and that’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“I don’t want to be a Cupid who has to meet stupid targets that don’t take into account people’s aftercare. Cupid should be about matchmaking and aftercare. I hate Cupid Inc and everything it stands for and I hate that my stupid parents were descendants of him and so I’m stuck with this shit.”
“Samara. We’ve really got to the crux of the matter and I can help you. I promise. Now, I know it’s difficult, but I want you to call Max by his proper name and be nothing but nice to him. Believe me, it will annoy him more. Keep an eye on your food and drink at all times. I will see you again next Wednesday.” She stood up and handed me the box of Jax’s blend. “Go enjoy. You deserve it. I’ll be ordering a lot more.”
Thanking her I left the room feeling strangely light, despite the fact the issues we’d talked about had been so heavy.
Samara
With Johnny walked, and him curled up on the sofa, I opened up my laptop and clicked through to my actual assignment. Who’d have expected them to give the same class different assignments? Expect the unexpected, Samara. I should have learned that bloody lesson living in Withernsea!
But as I typed the title on my assignment I was left in a quandary.
The Qualities needed in a Cupid by Samara Leighton
Because what they wanted were the qualities they at Cupid Inc thought made a good Cupid and they didn’t necessarily align with my own thoughts. I decided that’s exactly how I would run with my assignment, with both sides. Because while I was accepting the fact I wasn’t going home anytime soon, I was about to start standing up for myself. More than anything I wanted my husband back. If they wanted to keep me in training for the rest of my life they could do so, but I needed Johnny. I’d do what they asked but I wasn’t about to become a Cupid Inc robot. I just couldn’t. Somehow I needed to find a way to satisfy both Cupid Inc and myself while dealing with my enemy. Not much to do then. I began to type.
In order to be a good Cupid you have to be observant. You need to be able to focus on subtle body cues given by your potential matches to pick up on whether or not they are interested in a person and if that is reciprocated. Such cues might be a dilation of pupils, a lick of a lip, or in a man’s case trying desperately to hide an erection. These are the first signs of a potential match and an unobservant Cupid could miss these and therefore the opportunity to matchmake.
However, charisma and chemistry between two people does not necessarily make them a perfect match. The observant Cupid will check for wedding rings or indentations where one could have been. They will endeavour to discover the name of a client and phone through to the Cupid helpline to check on whether or not that person already has a significant other. It should be pointed out that the Cupid database is not 100% accurate as relationships can alter from minute to minute.
Perhaps after all this time, Cupid Inc could finally coordinate with a software expert and someone involved in magic to keep their systems up to date? I’m aware this isn’t part of the assignment, but to be a good Cupid surely having the best and most current information at your fingertips is part of that? My friends Theo and Shelley Landry from Withernsea could be approached. Theo is a vampire and a computer whizz and his wife is part-vampire, part-witch, and runs Withernsea Dating. Their expertise I should imagine is invaluable. While I have your attention it’s about time student files were computerised too.
Anyway, back to the assignment. According to the rules of Cupid Inc, a Cupid should be able to matchmake a minimum of 10 couples per week: 1.42 couples per day. Anything less than this is considered a failure and therefore you are considered to not be good at your job. While I am in agreement that the more love matches you can make, the happier the world will be, I have to state here my reservations about the pressure to meet targets.
Example one.
Rebecca (not her real name).
I was such a liar.
Rebecca makes 14 matches in a week. She feels the single tingle, checks the database and shoots. Then she moves to the ne
xt potential match.
Aftercare might show that many of these couples split up shortly afterward.
Example two.
Samantha (not her real name)
Samaraantha makes 3 matches a week. She follows the couples for a month afterwards, assisting where there are initial hiccups. Eg the man takes the woman to a restaurant where she doesn’t like the food. Samantha might cause a disturbance that leads to the restaurant being evacuated and so they end up having the perfect meal elsewhere.
Ninety percent of these couples are still together a year later (a fact Samantha checks as part of her aftercare routine).
So Cupid Inc monthly targetting ideally could use an overhaul to adhere to a specific set of standards that benefits the matchmaking of couples (or the polyamorous, let’s not be exclusive here), checking matches made meet a minimum that includes aftercare at certain future periods, contributing to a longer success rate. Unless, of course, Cupid is now about computer targets, rather than heart ones.
In conclusion, to be a good Cupid your qualities should be a routine of working your way through a system of checkpoints to ensure a good match. Also, to either ensure your focus is on the couple being long-lasting and a success, OR to hit a certain number of matches a week and not care what happens further down the line.
I printed off my assignment feeling good about the fact I wasn’t completely ‘playing the game’. Ultimately I wasn’t sure how my training would go because the idea of me passing and being expected to be the weekly target achieving Cupid just wasn’t going to work out. I thought about what Jessica had said about looking into some of the issues I’d raised. To be honest, I liked Jessica a lot. She could be a good friend if she wasn’t my therapist. Anyone who bought me Jax’s coffee was a keeper. I wondered how her marriage had failed. She was too nice to be single. There must be someone out there for her. I stroked Johnny’s soft fur thinking how lucky I was to have him even in dog form and I curled up next to him on the sofa. Not much later I fell asleep.
Eventually I’d woken and transferred myself to my bed. The alarm brought me rudely out of my slumber. I hated cold mornings where you had to force yourself out of bed. However, I wasn’t able to hang around given I’d soon find a cold, wet nose in my face and a hound who wanted breakfast, followed by a walk around the grounds in order to do his business. I knew some couples got so comfy together they went and did their ablutions in front of the other but this was taking it too far. Once we were outside, I began to feel a lump in my throat and my breath started coming in short pants as I panicked at the thought of what if he couldn’t turn back, or he got stuck in a half hound/half human state? Would I be forced to have him put down? Oh my god, I sat on a step outside wishing I had a brown paper bag rather than a pocket full of black, plastic ones.
“Are you okay?” Vax came out from behind the building. Max. Max. Max. I thought. I had to be kind.
“Panic attack.” I mumbled between gasps for air.
“Oh, I have those sometimes.” He grabbed my hands. “Look at me, Samara, and breathe. Slowly, okay. And exhale. Inhale and exhale.”
It took me a few minutes and in that time Johnny had run over and licked Max’s hands several times with his poop-eating mouth which I felt pleased and guilty about as Vax was a drink drugging twat, but he’d also just calmed me down.
“Better?”
I nodded. “Thank you, Max. I’d got myself in a tangle there.”
“And the woman remembers my name.”
I met his eyes guiltily.
“Sorry about that. I’ve got a handle on your name now.”
“It’s fine. I can take some getting used to. I’m a Marmite kind of a person. Right, I’d better get on with my jog as it will soon be time for class. See you soon.”
Max ran off. For a moment he’d actually seemed like a decent person, but I needed to keep my wits about me. He was obviously choosing a different tack now, to try to be friendly so he could catch me off guard or drug me again. Well two could play that game, so Max could consider himself my new friend until I found out how to bring him down in spectacular style. I vowed to myself that it would make #Mingegate look like a bikini trim versus a Brazilian.
“Okay, so today is the field trip where we all go out together.” Martine informed us, though this time I already knew the details because I’d actually read the schedule in depth. “So, an hour of prep here in the classroom and then off we go. Samara, did you bring in your assignment?”
“I did.” I could have passed it to her from my front row desk but I actually made the effort to get up out of my seat.
“Thank you.” She placed it on her desk. I was a little disappointed that she didn’t even cast an eye over it.
“Okay. So today’s field trip is to a well-known supermarket. Can anyone describe the kind of things we should be looking for in order to find potential matches?”
I put my hand straight up.
“Samara.” Martine said.
“Look at the items in their baskets. Specifically, things like meals for one.”
“Excellent. Anyone else?”
Max put his hand up, “Beyond what Samara said, pet food items can show if they have pets and are animal lovers.”
“Indeed.”
Destiny raised a hand. “The type of contents. Like if one has caviar and one has a tin of beans.”
“Can you expand on what you mean, Destiny?”
“Well, I guess different sorts of people go to different supermarkets. Like one advertises themselves to be family friendly and another for the more well-to-do, but if you look in their trolleys and baskets and you see someone with venison in their basket, you wouldn’t set them up with someone who had value beans in theirs.”
“I get what you are saying, Destiny, but on this occasion no. How much money you have shouldn’t necessarily rule out possible matches.”
“I do buy cheap crap for us if I need a bit more towards a Kate Spade handbag.” I shouted out.
“If you could raise your hand if you want to contribute, Samara.” Martine chastised me. I decided not to participate further. She could do one.
“However, valid point.”
Scorrreeee. Back of the net, Samara. Teacher’s Pet of the Year Award 2019.
Rhonda raised her hand. Looking at her, I reckoned she’d done the same this morning, out of a grave. “If one is buying hammers and duct tape, you might want to consider that one could be a serial killer?”
Martine rubbed her forehead. “Okay, let’s move along.”
She handed us each a clipboard and a pen. On the clipboard was a sheet of instructions, along with work we had to complete.
“Now, I shouldn’t need to tell you, but some basic rules. Number one. Please don’t get so near customers that you’re arrested for stalking. It will be announced on the store loudspeaker several times as we are walking around that we are a market research company looking at what people are purchasing.”
“Oooh, do we get paid?” Mandy asked.
Martine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “We’re not really doing market research, Mandy. That’s our cover story as to why we are looking in people’s baskets and asking them questions.”
“Oh. Oh we’re like spies though. That’s cool.”
“If you can just focus on your assignments on the clipboard, all will be well. Any questions?”
“Is there time to get changed?” Mandy asked.
“We will not be getting changed into what we consider to be spy wear, Mandy. We’re just us, going to the store.”
“Okay, I’m confused now. So we are back to being Cupid reps again?”
“Why don’t you come around the store with me, Mandy.” Martine said. “I’ll explain as we go around.”
I looked across at Destiny and pulled an ‘oh my god’ face. She raised an eyebrow in return.
“Right, all. The supermarket is down the end of King’s Street, about eight minutes walk from here. Get your coats on and your belon
gings together, and let’s make a move. We’ll be in store until midday and then after lunch, let’s get back to the classroom please so that we can discuss what we have learned.”
I walked down to the supermarket with Destiny. She seemed to be in a bit of a grumpy mood to be honest which wasn’t like her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, take no notice of me. I’m feeling sorry for myself because I got the question wrong in class.”
“No you didn’t. You’re right, there will be some snobby rich people who wouldn’t want setting up with someone poor.”
“Yeah, but it’s obviously not PC to say that out loud. It was so much easier to fake my figures than actually have to work.”
“Look, I’ll buy you a chocolate bar in the shop to cheer you up. Any you like.”
Destiny smiled. “Can I have a four-pack of Twirls if they’re on offer?”
“You can even if they aren’t because you’re my friend.”
Destiny clutched my arm. “Thank you. That means a lot. The friend thing. Not the chocolate, although the chocolate also means a lot.”
“Anytime, now let’s go smash this assignment so we’re one step closer to getting out of here.”
As we arrived in store, Martine told us to wait near the entrance while she went and talked to a supervisor. Then she waved us through. “Once the first announcement has been made, you can begin. Don’t forget to approach customers while wearing these lanyards.” She passed us all an identity badge on a lanyard that said we were market researchers.
Crazy, Stupid, Lazy, Cupid (Cupid Inc Book 1) Page 6
