Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Details
Robillard's
No Complaints
Fair Weather for Airstrikes
Heartbeat
Deliver Me
A Bird in the Hand
There is Light
Stableboy
Flip Flops & Tennis Shoes
Single Vampire Seeks Consort
My Sexual Superhero
About the Authors
SATISFACTION GUARANTEED
Edited by
Samantha M. Derr
Nothing is more frustrating than getting screamed at, spilled on, and talked down to while doing a miserable job just to make ends meet. Less Than Three Press offers a collection of romantic shorts about the people who work the daily grind to keep the world turning, and toil away so others can have fun. Because everyone deserves a happy end, especially those who work so hard in the service of others.
BOOK DETAILS
Satisfaction Guaranteed
Edited by Samantha M. Derr
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Robillard's Edited by Michael Jay
No Complaints Edited by Amanda Jean
Fair Weather for Airstrikes Edited by Michelle Kelley
Heartbeat Edited by Amanda Jean
Deliver Me Edited by Leta Hutchins
A Bird in the Hand Edited by Michael Jay
There is Light Edited by Leta Hutchins
Stableboy Edited by Amanda Jean
Flip Flops & Tennis Shoes Edited by Michael Jay
Single Vampire Seeks Consort Edited by Michelle Kelley
My Sexual Superhero Edited by Leta Hutchins
Cover designed by Aisha Akeju
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition September 2014
Robillard's Copyright © 2014 by R.D. Hero
No Complaints Copyright © 2014 by Diana Sheridan
Fair Weather for Airstrikes Copyright © 2014 by Mina MacLeod
Heartbeat Copyright © 2014 by Mell Eight
Deliver Me Copyright © 2014 by J.D. Walker
A Bird in the Hand Copyright © 2014 by Ils Greyhart
There is Light Copyright © 2014 by Blaine D. Arden
Stableboy Copyright © 2014 by Leona Carver
Flip Flops & Tennis Shoes Copyright © 2014 by Bettina Kaipling
Single Vampire Seeks Consort Copyright © 2014 by Cassandra Pierce
My Sexual Superhero Copyright © 2014 by Talya Andor
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781620044315
Print ISBN 9781620044322
ROBILLARD'S
R.D. Hero
Diego tilted his head, a small, vague smile on his face as he watched the father-son duo of George and Faisel Harrington argue with each other in an ever-exceeding volume of whisper. George kept looking to Diego, and chuckling, as if to show just how silly the whole fiasco was, while Faisel, a boy barely breaking out of teenhood, was red-faced and focused on his father.
Eyebrows rising, Diego decided to let their conversation play out rather than try any smooth interception, so he glanced down at the notes he had already taken.
Twenty-one, recent graduate. Nepotism? G. seems worried about prospects.
Diego straightened his sleeve, a frown on his face as he thought, but he was careful to pay attention to the cadence of the argument, so as to know when to look up with his salesman's grin. Faisel seemed like trouble. He was already scowling when he trailed in after his father, and when Diego pulled out a nice, conservative navy suit, he had almost fled.
"It's a tech startup, George," Faisel said. "They wear jeans!"
Diego feigned scratching his nose to hide an insuppressible smile of amusement. But then he caught George shooting him a facial expression that screamed SOS, and cleared his throat. "Mr. Harrington, I can assure you, when it comes to the interview, you want to look your very best, no matter what the company's day-to-day dress code is."
Faisel looked to him as if just noticing Diego was still standing there, eyes narrowed in obvious disdain. "These are like, twenty-five year old dudes, they don't care."
"Their backers care," Diego replied shortly. Faisel immediately blushed, and George snorted. Good. It was a gamble to be rude, but Diego had already learned through countless consultations with George that he appreciated sincerity.
However, there was rude, and then there was lecturing. Diego could already see the warning signs that Faisel was closing off completely to any sort of suggestion. "Then, Mr. Harrington," Diego said, turning to run a hand down the arm of a suit hanging behind him. "Think of it this way. Women appreciate a man who knows how to dress himself."
"If a girl can't handle how I dress now—"
Diego hid his growing annoyance by looking at the suits again. This Faisel was obnoxious; he would be an insult to the suit he was wearing, anyway. "Well," Diego said coldly, "by all means—"
"Come check out the modern wear over here," came a laid-back, unaffected voice, with just a hint of humor. Diego nearly bit his tongue.
Josh Braden, he of the perfected surfer-boy-all-grown-up look, had a hand resting on Faisel's shoulder. With a curled lip, Diego appraised him, wondering just how low Josh could sink, even poaching a customer right out from under Diego's nose. "I'm sure a more conservative approach—"
"Yeah, modern's alright," Faisal said, gawking at Josh's dark green suit and baby-blue dress shirt. It hurt Diego's eyes to look at it.
Diego opened his mouth to protest—Josh was wearing pure black Converse shoes, for god's sake. It had been like this since Braden had come to work as a suit salesman at Robillard's three months ago, drawing away most of the younger men who may have come to Diego just because he was close enough in age, unlike the older salesmen.
"I haven't seen him before," George said, reminding Diego that he still had one customer at least, his cheeks heating when he realized George probably caught him openly glaring.
"Yes," Diego said, keeping his voice level, "he's new." He made sure to say 'new' like 'an idiot'.
"I'll just be happy if I can get the kid in a tie," George sighed, turning to rest his arm on the cufflink display, quirking a small smile at Diego. "His mother sends him out here with no warning, and expects me to get him a job. I'm a restaurant owner, what do I know about this Twitter-Facebook-tech crap?"
Diego put on the understanding smile he reserved for clients who shared just a little too much for an employee-customer relationship. "A clean, stylish suit is always a step in the right direction," he said, careful not to glance over to Josh and Faisel, lest he be proven entirely incorrect on that front.
George smiled in return, nodding. "Anyway," he said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. "Hopefully you're not too disappointed with just me?"
Quickly shaking his head, Diego gestured at a rack he had wheeled out earlier. "I have already selected a few sports jackets from the new season, as you requested."
Yes, he was talking stiffly. He had seen younger salesmen do the eager-to-please act, and sometimes that worked, but usually their desperation rolled off them in waves, and it made most clients uncomfortable. When Diego finally scored a position at Robillard's, he was careful to observe the assured expertise of the seasoned salesmen.
Not that Diego wasn't desperate. But George Harrington didn't need to know that.
Georg
e moved to stand by Diego by the racks. "I can already tell I'm going to like these."
"Just from the sleeves?" Diego replied, pulling out the first jacket, a warm-toned brown blazer. When George acknowledged him with an exhale of amusement, he then said, "When you mentioned you wanted to go a bit more casual..."
George's lip rose. "Yes?"
"Well," Diego continued, and held the blazer up against George's chest, "I was surprised."
Some honesty is allowed, with a well-built client relationship.
"Don't worry," George laughed, "I'll still be needing those nice, high-priced suits in the fall."
Diego smiled a secretive little smile, brushing his hand down the front of the blazer, feeling the pressure of George's chest behind it. There was a low "Hmm..." from George.
"This jacket is for a man much too young to have a college-graduate son," Diego said, tilting his head as he inspected a sleeve. "I think it suits you perfectly"
"Indeed?" George replied, and there was just a light brush of fingertips against Diego's knuckles.
"I think this should do it," said another voice.
George swiftly pulled his hand away, and Diego stepped back to see Faisel and Josh standing beside them. Immediately, Diego took in the way Faisel was dressed, and scowled because everything was perfect.
It was a gray colored suit, single breasted. The tie, although a little thin for Diego's taste, was the appropriate length and a single color, the belt was quiet, and the shirt was crisp and white. Overall, a pleasing presentation. And something Diego could have put together himself just fine.
"A few alterations..." Josh said over Diego's frustrated thoughts, tugging down Faisel's sleeve, and then shrugging. "But, yeah."
But, yeah? The words of a true poet.
Placing the blazer in his hands back on the rack, Diego turned back to Faisel with an appraising eye, but he could tell that only George was waiting for an opinion from him, with Josh looking self-satisfied, and Faisel keeping one eye on the mirror across the room, admiring his appearance with a flushed grin.
"He'll definitely make an impression," Diego said.
Josh shot him a raised, triumphant eyebrow and a smile as he crossed his arms. "Yeah, I think so."
*~*~*
Under the supervision of cool Josh Braden, Faisel was amiable all through the fitting. It was when the Harringtons were rung up that George told Diego, with an offhand tone, to include all of the blazers he had pulled out, that Diego finally got his own little bit of self-satisfaction, which he promptly displayed with a smirk at Josh.
"Never saw that little petting trick in the manual," Josh said later in the back alley behind Robillard's, leaning against the wall as he took a sip of beer.
"You follow the manual?" Diego brought a cigarette to his lips.
Chuckling, Josh shook his head, closing his eyes as he threw his head back for a final chug. Diego watched this with a flat expression, eyeing the line of Josh's jaw going down to his throat, with just a hint of collarbone showing under that ridiculous baby blue shirt. This isn't Las Vegas, Diego thought to himself, grimly recalling how surprised he had been when Robillard's floor manager okayed Josh's sartorial choices.
He licked his lips, almost cracking and complaining about the poached client, but it wouldn't do any good to show Josh that he had gotten to Diego. Besides, those multiple blazers George bought equaled in value to Faisel's suit.
His eyes narrowed. Diego should have had both the suit and the blazers on his commission.
Flicking the cigarette to the ground, he crushed it under his heel as he pulled off the jacket he wore for smoking and folded it over his arm. "By the way," he said. "If you're going to wear a fake, you should probably find one that isn't so glaringly obvious."
Eyebrows raised, Josh looked at him with confusion for a blink, and then glanced down at his wrist with a low "Ah." Then he was smiling wryly at Diego. "I lost a whole paycheck to this thing, you know?"
He was still being friendly, glossing over Diego's tone.
"Let me see yours," Josh said, grabbing Diego's wrist, who flinched at the sudden contact, nearly jerking his arm away when Josh held his watch up for inspection. "It's a fake, too?" he said, not sounding sure.
Diego's lip curled. "Of course." How would he, a junior-level suit salesman ever be able to afford a luxury watch?
"It's awesome," Josh said, oblivious. He kept turning Diego's wrist over and back, running a finger over the metal of the watch. It made Diego's skin tingle where he felt the pressure. "I figured you had gotten it as a gift."
Diego frowned. "A gift?"
Looking up at him with a grin, Josh said, "I see the way you flirt."
Snapping his hand away from Josh's clasp, Diego fought the urge to shove him, the fucking asshole. "I do not flirt."
"Sure you do," Josh said, matching Diego's retreat with a step forward. "The second you catch a whiff of these moneybags possibly playing for your team, you put on the whole production, with the—" Josh reached out, and trailed his hand down Diego's front, "—and—" brought his hand back up, skimming his thumb over Diego's collar, straightening it. "Yeah? I have eyes, you know. You even work it on some of the straight blowhards who would take flattery from anything."
Diego knocked his hand away, and Josh stepped back, palms raised. "Hey," he said calmly. "Nothing against it, everyone has their strategy. Gotta do what you gotta do."
Heart thumping with indignation, Diego jabbed a finger at Josh. "I do not need to be told that by you, you clown." And then he whipped around and headed for the alley door back into Robillard's, seething when he heard Josh chuckling behind him.
He was ready to turn right back around and throw Josh a left hook, but his phone erupted in a fit of vibrations in his pocket, so with a sigh, he dug it out. "Hello?"
"Diego." It was one of his roommates, Anna. "So it's happening, I got into the PhD program, which means I will be moving out after all."
Freezing, Diego blinked as his stomach dropped. "Moving out? Will you be... subletting?"
There was a sigh. "Yeah I guess, until the end of the lease. Let me know if you have any leads, 'kay?"
"Yeah," Diego replied, and then said his goodbyes. There went his last original roommate, and the only one of which he was friends with. God knows who would replace her, and Diego hated having to live with strangers.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"There's me," Josh said happily.
Oh, right.
"No," Diego replied flatly, shrugging Josh's hand off, and going back into Robillard's.
Josh had been gunning for Diego's apartment ever since he heard Diego was renting downtown in an astronomically expensive and sought-after neighborhood. Diego did it for the address, but it was tough with four roommates—one using the living room as a bedroom—and even with that the rent still took up most of his paycheck. It was only by luck that Anna was able to take over the lease from an aunt a year ago.
"Diego," Josh said, following him, "you know I have a steady income, we work together, which means carpooling—" Diego shuddered. "You know me, right? I'm not some Craigslist psycho. And now you actually need someone, right? Is your roommate moving out completely, or subletting?"
"She's moving out," Diego admitted grimly.
"Just think about it, will you? It's practically a crime keeping that spot to yourself."
"Josh? Diego?"
They both turned to see Carl, the manager, standing at the door of his office, leaning out to stare at them with raised eyebrows. "You were supposed to be out on the floor three minutes ago—Diego, you're scheduled to apprentice with Arnie, and you're keeping him waiting?"
Swearing under his breath, Diego gave a quick nod to Carl and dashed into the employee room to hang his coat in his locker and pull out the fresh, non-smokey one he wore for work hours. He quickly slid his arms through the sleeves and headed for the showroom where Arnie was waiting for him by the shoes.
"Oh my," Arnie said wryly
. "And here I thought you had finally cast off on your own, no longer in need of my guidance."
"Sorry, sorry," Diego replied, coming to stand beside him.
Arnie was an older, fey little man with a sleek suit that included just a bit of flare in his pink polka-dotted pocket square—that Diego knew for sure he only wore so rich housewives would target him for some kind of private rendition of Queer Eye for The Straight Guy starring their husbands.
"Anyway," Arnie said with a drawn-out sigh, "I was told you wanted to learn more about shoes."
Diego nodded. "Brown shoes in the evening..."
Arnie smiled wryly at him. "I can tell you're not a fan."
"A lot of my clients are," Diego replied, not even trying to hide the disdain from his voice.
Exhaling another long sigh at that, Arnie crossed his arms. "At the end of the day, you have to decide whether you're willing to alienate your clients over a moral opposition to brown shoes, you know?"
Diego nodded, and with a pat on his shoulder, followed Arnie along the racks of shoes.
*~*~*
They were sitting around the employee room, legs crossed, coffee cups in hand, as Carl went down the list of highest commission bonus winners. Of course Diego was not on the list; he was too green, hadn't been working long enough to build up a client list to push him to the top, but soon he'd be one of the names called.
"Oh," Carl said to Diego, when everyone else was standing up, and getting ready to go on the floor. "Here." He pulled a package out from under his arm, and handed it to Diego. "Good work, I guess?" He didn't sound like he meant it.
Diego watched him leave the room in confusion, and then inspected the package in his hand. It was actually a gift, so expertly wrapped that it must have been done by someone trained to do it, with a gauzy silver bow fluffed up on the top. A little card, which he flipped open impatiently, read: To Diego, who always makes me look good. Thought I should return the favor. —George.
"Wow," someone breathed from directly behind him. Jerking around, Diego found Josh had been reading over his shoulder. Blue eyes met his. "Are you going to open it?"
"Not with you breathing down my neck," Diego snarled. Josh just gave him an innocent look, and then stared expectantly at the gift. The standoff lasted for about three seconds until excitement and curiosity got the better of Diego, and he quickly started working away at the taped seams of the wrapping paper.
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