Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Anything interesting?"

  "If you find the changes in tax law interesting. I don't, but I do find them necessary."

  "Before you hang up, what time tomorrow?" Todd asked.

  "I don't have any appointments in the afternoon. I can break off working whenever I need to. What suits you?" asked Barry.

  "I get off at four. I want to get home and shower and change clothes. Shall we say six? In the bar at Angelina's? Drinks before dinner?"

  "Sounds like a plan."

  "Then it is one," said Todd. "Tomorrow at six."

  "I can't wait."

  "Neither can I, but we'll have to."

  "Hasta mañana," said Barry.

  "Hey—you're bilingual too. Well, a hasty mañana to you too—and may mañana come hastily enough. I can't wait."

  "Me too neither," agreed Barry in a thick voice. "I wish I didn't have that damned seminar tonight."

  "Well, go and learn something, and I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Count on it. G'night."

  "Sweet dreams," Todd said.

  "Of you," Barry responded.

  It was with great regret that Todd clicked the switch to disconnect the cordless phone. But even when Barry's voice had been silenced in Todd's ear, it still resonated in his mind.

  *~*~*

  The workday dragged for Todd. It seemed there were more complaints than ever, a steady stream of women who had problems with their various appliances and seemed to blame Todd personally for the alleged defects. One woman kept insisting that Todd come over to her house to see for himself what the problem was with her electric grill. Todd tried to be patient as he explained why that was not possible (to make it even less possible, the woman lived in New Jersey). But she wasn't listening to him and wouldn't accept what he said. He was glad when, getting nowhere in her vociferous insistences, she insisted on speaking to his supervisor. Good riddance, he thought as he "kicked her upstairs" and picked up the next caller. But it was just more of the same—a woman bitching about the performance of her food processor and being none too kind or gentle about it.

  All Todd could think of was his forthcoming date with Barry. He found his mind wandering, wondering if Barry would be as delectable in the flesh as he was over the phone.

  At last it was close to quitting time. Todd took one last complaint before calling it a day and eagerly hurrying to the door.

  The bar at Angelina's Delectables was off to the left of the entrance, and as Todd walked in he wondered if Barry was there already. He quickly cast a glance at the occupants of the bar to see if he could see anyone who matched Barry's self-description. There was a fellow with long red hair in a ponytail. With the man's back to Todd, Todd couldn't see if he sported a moustache and beard, but he was sitting alone and drinking something clear that could easily have been a vodka Collins. Taking a deep breath, Todd walked up to him. "Excuse me, but are you Barry?" he asked.

  The man turned and smiled broadly. "And you're Todd. You described yourself well. Plant your butt. I saved you a seat. Or would you rather we drink at a table?"

  "This place is pretty popular. Might be a good idea to get a table while we can."

  "Sure. I've already paid for this." He lifted his glass. "Let me just put down a tip." He did, then swung around out of his seat, carrying his drink, and laid his free hand on Todd's shoulder. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he enthused.

  "Me too. I could hardly focus on work," Todd confessed.

  "I had the same problem," Barry admitted with a lopsided grin.

  When the hostess showed them to their table—the last empty one, apparently—she asked them if they were ready to order or wanted drinks first. "I can leave menus with you, but I don't want to rush you. Your server will be with you in a minute."

  "I want a drink first," Todd said.

  "I'm almost ready for a refill," Barry said.

  "Very good. Julie will be right over. Here are menus, but take your time."

  Todd turned to Barry. "Now tell me more about Barry," he said.

  "I want to hear about you."

  "Not a particularly interesting story," Todd began. "I'm twenty-seven, born and raised in Joplin, went to the state university, got a B.A., which is about as useful as a wad of chewed bubblegum, had a couple of other dead-end jobs before this one, and occasionally dream about opening a store that sells houseplants and accessories. You know—flowerpots, potting soil, plant food, and stuff."

  "What's stopping you?" Barry asked.

  "Scared, I guess. It would take all my savings to open the store, and then I'd have nothing to fall back on if the store went bust."

  "Be bold!"

  "Easy for you to say. You have an established business."

  "It wasn't always established. I remember when I was just starting out." He shook his head and smiled ruefully at the memory. "There were plenty of nights when I had nothing but spaghetti for dinner."

  "I told you my age," Todd said. "What's yours?"

  "The same—twenty-seven. When's your birthday?"

  "April," Todd said, "and yours?"

  "November."

  "So how does a great guy like you happen to be available?" Todd smiled encouragingly at Barry, hoping the question wasn't opening up a too-personal subject.

  "Colin, my former boyfriend, moved out of the area. I hadn't met anyone else who intrigued me—until now. And what's your story?"

  Todd sighed. "I haven't had a serious boyfriend in several years. The last guy I really had anything major going with was Jon, and he was rabidly political, with views very different from mine. He was always trying to convert me. It got tiresome after a while. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I didn't enjoy debating politics. It felt too much like an argument. I hate arguing."

  "So do I." Barry smiled.

  The waitress arrived and took their drink order. "I suppose we'd better look at the menu," Todd suggested.

  By the time the waitress was back with their drinks, the two were ready to order. Todd asked for the lamb shanks in apricot sauce with couscous. Barry requested the veal ragout and an order of parmesan garlic bread for them to share. "No rush," he added. "Give us time to enjoy our drinks first."

  "Certainly," she agreed.

  "So what do you enjoy doing for fun?" Barry asked Todd.

  "I enjoy puttering around with my plants. I like old movies. I enjoy going to vintage car shows. Rock concerts, definitely, especially undiscovered, up-and-coming bands."

  "There's a concert in the park Friday night. Battle of the bands. Wanna go?"

  "Sure. There's a vintage car show Sunday afternoon. I don't have to work this weekend. Wanna go with me?"

  "Sure. I've never been to a vintage car show before," Barry said, "but it sounds cool. But tell me—are you saying you work some weekends?"

  "Every third weekend. I get two days off during the week in exchange."

  "Bummer."

  "In a way it's kinda nice," Todd said. "I like having free time during the week."

  "Oh, okay.

  Even on so short a sentence as "Oh, okay," Barry's mellifluous baritone washed through Todd and warmed both his heart and his body. He realized that they had spent the barest minimum of time together and yet had already made plans for two more dates. But the more they talked, the more Todd was drawn to Barry's easygoing, open personality, his sense of humor, his candor, his intelligence—he had more going for him than just that marvelous voice and looks, although they certainly didn't hurt!

  They talked through their drinks and intermittently after their dinners arrived. Todd learned that Barry had grown up in Naperville, Illinois but had gone to college in Kansas City and "just kinda stuck around the area" after that.

  "I never wanted to work for someone else, so even though the IRS was recruiting employees, and I could have had a steady job with federal benefits, I took the chance and went out on my own," he told Todd. Todd admired his courage.

  When the waitress came to take their dessert orders, B
arry said, "I have a cheesecake in the fridge at home. I bought it at lunchtime, hoping I could lure you back to my lair."

  Todd laughed. "You didn't need cheesecake to tempt me. You're enough of a lure yourself." Then, to the waitress who was patiently waiting for them to decide, "We'll pass on dessert, thanks. Check, please."

  "Coffee?" she suggested.

  "Just the check," Todd said. As she walked away, he asked Barry, "What's your address? I'll follow your car, but in case I lose you..."

  Barry fished a business card out of his wallet and handed it to Todd.

  "Your office is in your home?" Todd asked.

  Barry nodded. "The house has a mother-in-law unit, which I use for an office. I like working at home, but this physical setup means I don't have clients wandering through my living area, yet I still have the convenience of working where I live. No commuting. And if I want to roast a chicken for dinner or make something else that needs to cook for a longish while, I can pop into the kitchen and get it going and then go back to work. It's very convenient."

  "You enjoy cooking?"

  "It's one of my hobbies."

  "Me too! What sort of cuisine is your specialty?" Todd asked.

  "Eclectic. No one type. And you?"

  "The same, I guess. I like to mess around with different ingredients and create, but I do follow recipes too. What do you say Sunday after the car show we go back to my place and I'll make shrimp in black bean sauce?"

  "Sounds good. Is that Chinese or Latino?"

  "It's pure Todd."

  Barry chuckled.

  The waitress arrived with the check, and the pair fought over it, each adamant that it was his treat. Finally they split it, but Barry insisted, "The next time it's on me—especially if you're cooking dinner for us on Sunday. How about Friday, before the concert in the park? It'll have to be something quick if we don't want to miss the start of the concert. What do you say we go to Bodacious Burgers? It's hardly gourmet food, but they do make delicious, juicy, oversized burgers, and we won't have to wait long for service."

  "Sure. Why not?"

  With the check paid and the tip put down, they were free to leave, and Todd pulled his Chevy into position to follow Barry's Hyundai as soon as it backed out of the space it was parked in. He followed Barry without incident and didn't need to refer to the address on the business card.

  It was dark out by the time they arrived at Barry's house, but a nearby streetlight and a lamp on a short pole at the foot of the driveway illuminated the house. It was a modest but nicely landscaped brick house with two entrances and a flagstone walkway leading up to each. One was clearly the main entrance, and Todd surmised that the other was the mother-in-law unit in use as Barry's office.

  "What kind of music do you like?" Barry asked, turning on a living room lamp and walking over to the stereo.

  "What have you got?"

  "Everything from show tunes to opera."

  "Got any mellow jazz?"

  "Bingo." He put three discs in the carousel and started the music.

  Todd observed the number of CDs and protested, "Three albums? I can't stay that late. I have work tomorrow."

  "I'm an optimist." Barry shrugged.

  They sat on the couch, side by side, and Todd put his arm lightly around Barry's shoulder. Barry rested his hand on Todd's knee. They talked of their respective childhoods, and they compared stories of coming out to their parents. In Barry's case, it seemed his mom had suspected he was gay even before he recognized that fact himself, although his father had initially received the news with denial. In Todd's case, his mother wanted grandchildren, and she was cool to the idea that Todd, her only child, would not be getting married and having kids. His father had been more philosophical and accepting. Todd's mother had eventually joined PFLAG but even now mourned the loss of future grandkids. She still clung to the hope that he was 'only bi' and would someday meet 'the right woman for him.'

  They talked about their work. Barry enjoyed working with numbers and got up every morning looking forward to what the workday would bring. That was not true of Todd, who hardly enjoyed the litany of gripes he endured from seven-thirty to four o'clock daily. "I like it when once in a while I get a caller who's not complaining, but it's rare. The company really does make a good product, but inevitably they turn out a lemon or two, and of course a lot of the complaints result from user misuse or ignorance.

  "I remember the woman who wanted to roast a twenty-two-pound turkey in her slow cooker! Well, you can't roast in a slow cooker to begin with, and there's no way to fit a twenty-two-pounder in even our largest model. Then there was the woman who was peeved because there was no way to cube potatoes in her food processor. She'd had it for over two months, but she wanted her money back because it wouldn't dice foods. Oh, and what about the woman who couldn't whip her egg whites into stiff peaks and blamed it on our mixer. I asked her some questions, and she admitted there was some yolk that had gotten mixed in with the whites, but she didn't know what difference that should make."

  "It makes plenty," Barry chimed in with a chuckle.

  "You know that and I know that, but this ding-a-ling was clueless—and she was blaming our mixer. Even when I finally persuaded her the problem was the yolks, she wanted to know how to compensate for them, what to add to the eggs to make them stiffen. I told her she had to start over with new eggs and not let any yolk get mixed in with the whites this time. She said those were her last eggs. I said, "Guess you need to make a trip to the store, then." She got mad at me for not being more helpful! I wish I had a job I loved, like you do."

  "Open that plant store."

  "I wish!"

  The pair fell silent for a brief while, listening to the music and enjoying each other's closeness. Then Barry asked, "Well, has your dinner settled yet? Are you ready for that cheesecake?"

  "Lead me to it," Todd said, starting to get up when Barry rose from the couch.

  "Stay put," Barry said. "I'll bring you a slice. The dining room table has a jigsaw puzzle spread out on it. We'll eat in here."

  "You're into jigsaw puzzles?"

  "Not really. My Great-Aunt Rhoda in Topeka sent it to me for my last birthday, and I had no way to exchange it. It's been sitting here in the box for eons, and finally I decided I might as well try to put it together. I'm almost finished with it, but I'm stuck."

  "Do you want help?"

  "Let's eat the cheesecake first. Then if you really want to work on it, you can." With that, Barry pivoted around and headed for the kitchen, returning shortly with two cheesecake-laden plates, two forks, and a handful of paper towels. "Napkins," he said, waving the toweling in the air.

  Todd proclaimed the cheesecake "Seriously delicious" and said he only wished he had room for seconds, "Although I'm better off not having any more if I want to keep my 'girlish figure'," he teased.

  "I like your figure just fine," Barry answered, casting an appraising eye up and down Todd's body.

  Todd shifted self-consciously. "Likewise. Well, wanna show me where the jigsaw puzzle is?" Todd gathered up the two empty plates and the forks and headed in search of the kitchen.

  "I'll do that," Barry protested, reaching for the dirty dishes.

  "I've got 'em." He found the kitchen, deposited the plates and forks in the sink, and followed Barry to the dining alcove. Barry turned the light on, and Todd saw what appeared to be a reproduction of a Renoir in jigsaw form. One section remained to be put together. After puzzling over it for a while, he fitted one piece in, then another, then another. Four of the yet-unused pieces went together outside the main puzzle, waiting to fit in when Todd found the right place for them, but Barry seized upon another piece, fit it into the puzzle, and then saw where those four joined pieces belonged. In a little more than half an hour the thing was finally complete.

  "Thank you for your help," Barry said. "We make a good team."

  "Yes, we do," Todd said, "but this team has to split up for the night. I need to get home, get to bed,
and get up early in the morning. Remember my shift starts at seven-thirty."

  "Ah, yes," said Barry, sounding disappointed. "Well, I'll see you on Friday—and talk to you before that. You have my number. It's on the card. What's your cell number?"

  Todd gave his cell phone number to Barry, and then he turned to face him and kiss him good night. It was a sweet kiss, a tender kiss, but with undercurrents of passion.

  "Next time I'll show you my bedroom, too," Barry said throatily.

  "I'd like that," Todd replied. Then, with another quick peck, he turned and headed for the front door.

  Next time. The words hung tantalizingly in the air, not only for their promise of sex but for their promise of there being a next time. And there would be a time after that, too, Todd was sure, and a time after that and a time after that...

  In a delightful daze, Todd lost his way driving through the streets of Barry's neighborhood and had to finally stop and ask at a store for directions. He was late getting home and knew he'd have trouble getting up in the morning. But he drifted right off to sleep when he got between the sheets. In the very few minutes before he did, he wondered, had he finally met the man he was destined to spend the rest of his life with, his life mate?

  *~*~*

  At six a.m. Todd's phone rang. He answered it with some concern. Nobody called that early unless there was a problem. His alarm sounded simultaneously, and he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder while reaching for the shut-off. "Hello?" he mumbled sleepily.

  "This is your wake-up call. Consider me your personal rooster," said the now-familiar baritone.

  "What are you doing up so early?" Todd asked. Barry had told him the evening before that he normally got up at seven-thirty.

  "Saying 'good morning' to the new special guy in my life and starting my own morning the second best way I know how."

  "'Second best'?"

  "Waking up next to you and kissing you good morning would trump this, but this'll have to do for now."