Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Samantha M. Derr

  "You mean you kept it from me until the party, when you went to introduce us?" Ben asked. "Which was, to repeat what I said then, not cool."

  "I've said sorry for that! I just thought it would be, you know, romantic or some shit."

  "Oh yeah," Ben said in a deadpan. "It was totally romantic to be introduced suddenly and without warning, resulting in me fleeing in terror, which lead to him thinking that I had freaked out over his lack of arm. Meaning he thought I was an asshole."

  "...I said I was sorry. And I built you up a ton for Olive Garden!"

  "Which you proceeded not to tell him about, making it an awkward encounter for everyone involved. Especially once you ditched us," Ben said. "Not to beat a dead horse."

  "You had a perfect opportunity to explain yourself and make the best of it," Alonzio said, sounding mutinous. "And you didn't. That's not my fault."

  "Are you seriously calling me to ream me out over the fact that I didn't ask your friend on a date?"

  "You have been lusting after him for three years."

  Drake raised his eyebrows at that. Ben gave him a helpless look.

  "Ben?" A sigh. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I could've gone about this differently."

  "You think?"

  "Yeah, yeah, okay. I'm really sorry. It's my fault too. I'll... talk to him on Monday. Maybe see how into this other guy he is. Maybe you could just start with meeting and having an actual conversation. I'll even explain everything to him first."

  "Look, Alonzio, I appreciate you trying so hard, but maybe you should just leave it, okay? It's messed up enough as it is."

  Drake nodded wholeheartedly at that part.

  "And, look, to be honest, you just told me that he's interested in someone else. I kind of want some time not thinking about it. Okay?"

  "...yeah, sure, man. That's cool. I'm––I'm sorry."

  "S'okay. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

  "Yeah. Sorry. Um. Bye. You just let me know."

  "Promise me you'll leave him alone about it though."

  "I promise, man. I swear."

  "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

  "Bye." Alonzio hung up. Ben sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

  "And there we go. Perfect set-up for Monday."

  "I kind of feel a little bad now," Drake said, shifting so that he was fully pressed against Ben's side. "I mean, he totally deserves it because that might've been the dumbest way to try to set two people up ever, but he was really invested in this." He looked up at Ben, grinning. "Three years? Lusting after?"

  "God, my cousin's a freak," Ben said, putting a hand over his face. Drake nudged him with his shoulder until Ben looked back at him, their faces inches from each other.

  "That doesn't sound like a denial," Drake said.

  Ben breathed out a laugh. "It's really not."

  *~*~*

  Monday evening, Drake was packing up and making a beeline for the first floor the moment he got the signal from Ben. Alonzio calling after him. They managed to time the greeting and kiss just as Alonzio rounded the corner.

  "You little fuckers!"

  "Serves you right," said Drake.

  Alonzio gaped at them for a minute before he stomped closer and swatted Drake on the shoulder.

  "Ow, hey!"

  "That's for keeping me in the dark, man!" He rounded on Ben, "And you—"

  "Really?" Ben said, slinging an arm around Drake's shoulders. "Like you're one to talk?"

  "Oh, don't even--"

  Ben grinned at him. "I'll tell you who dies in Battle Weed."

  Alonzio stared at his cousin in horror. "You wouldn't dare."

  "Try me."

  "I was totally right, you two absolutely deserve each other," Alonzio said, solemnly, as he walked past them out of the building. "You're the worst."

  "I can see through your lies, Barns!" Drake called after him, dragging Ben behind him into the parking lot. "By our powers combined, we're too awesome for words!"

  "I hate you both!"

  "I think you mean 'Congratulations!'"

  "That too!"

  THERE IS LIGHT

  Blaine D. Arden

  Dark clouds hung silently above me as I stepped off the cart and tipped my hat to the driver. Money well wasted with no sign of rain yet. I could have walked. Of course, with my luck, I'd have been soaked to the bone had I taken the chance. I still could be, if I didn't hurry up and start walking.

  Despite the threat, I didn't pick up the pace like the people around me. Instead, I trudged down the walkway and even stopped outside the baker's to take in the smell of fresh bread before moving on to the light shop. Seemed like I'd have aniseed rolls for lunch today since my boss liked them as much as I did.

  The first drops of rain fell as I entered the porch of the light shop, promising a dreary day ahead. But when wasn't it? I hung my hat and cloak on the coat rack, and glanced into the mirror as I ran a hand through my flattened curls, causing them to stick up in all the wrong places. I left them be. It wasn't as if the customers granted me any attention anyway.

  A comfortable heat enveloped me in the work room. Walls lined with shelves against which eight desks stood, even though there were only six of us working here at the moment. I was the last one to arrive, it seemed.

  I wished them all a bright morning, a little in-joke among us lighters, and smiled at Roni, my boss, who smiled warmly back at me as always. Ansa, seated at the desk between Roni's and mine, didn't even acknowledge me. I passed her without a word. The less I said to her, the better. Though, she'd no doubt have plenty to say to me, regardless of whether I opened my mouth or not. For now, though, she was silently working on charging mid-range bulbs. There were quite a number of those on her desk, which meant a reprieve from her harping for an hour or so.

  Roni's desk held some of the larger bulbs customers brought in to be recharged. Her eyes were closed as she rubbed one of them between her hands, until it slowly started glowing pink. I sank into my chair and sighed as I tried hard not to notice the absence of anything larger than pebbles on my own desk. If only I could charge a bulb like that. Just once would be enough. Maybe it would stop me from wanting it so badly.

  I focused my attention on the two bowls that awaited me, the familiar velvet bag lying behind them. Hennen Kovu's biweekly order of rechargeables. About half a bowl to go. Normally I'd finish them well before he was due, but with autumn coming in fast our schedule was packed, and I'd been close to tapping into my meagre reserves earlier every day. Still, I wouldn't need more than half an hour, and he never came in before ten, anyway. If I timed it right, I might even catch a glimpse of him. What a stupid thought. With a shake of my head, I flexed my palms and stretched my arms, awakening my energy. As if I ever stood a chance with a man like Hennen Kovu. No one wanted a drifter—someone's whose magic was warped or fluctuating—like me.

  A couple of deep breaths helped purge any stray thoughts that could ruin my concentration. Taking one more, I took a pebble from one of the two bowls. I rubbed the smooth resin bulb filled with oil and powdered wir root between my palms in a circular motion as I pushed my energy into it. I kept at it until the pebble heated up, and then tilted my right hand so I could check its colour and glow. A nice pale orange, bright enough to make me blink. I dropped the pebble in the second bowl, the one with the other charged pebbles, and reached for another one.

  "Are you done with the pebbles yet, Marek?"

  I ignored Ansa's deriding tone and charged the pebble.

  "I expect an answer when I ask you a question, Marek."

  Of course she did. But I learnt years ago not to react. I dropped the now glowing pebble in the bowl, and picked up another one. Besides, she could see my desk from where she was sitting, she knew full well I wasn't done yet. I never was ready when she asked because she barely gave me half an hour for a whole bowl she knew would take me an hour, at least.

  "Marek..." she started.

  "Oh, leave him alone, Ansa. You have plenty to
do yourself. Unless you want to be sorting burners the rest of the day?"

  I bit my lip not to snort. Roni tended to save sorting burners for when one of her employees bugged her too much. Ansa had probably sorted more than her fair share since she'd started working here. She was always on my case about something or other. She muttered something I couldn't decipher, and her chair creaked, but no footsteps stomping off meant the muttering must have been an apology to Roni.

  Picking up another pebble, I took a deep breath and focused on my energy again. Ansa was none too friendly, but she was right. I did need to finish this before Hennen Kovu came to collect them. I steadily worked my way through the rest of the pebbles, and as predicted, I had just emptied the bowl of glowing pebbles into the velvet bag when the bells above the shop door chimed.

  I rose to hand the bag to Roni, but Roni nodded me to go ahead.

  "But. He can't—"

  "He's perfectly capable of handing Mister Kovu his order, Ansa," Roni bit out. "And when you finish charging those bulbs, you can go right ahead and start sorting burners."

  My heart thudded in my throat, despite my momentary glee at Ansa's punishment, as I entered the shop. Hennen Kovu was one of those men who became more handsome with age. His hair, a thick mane that reached his shoulders, was a mix of greys and blacks that made him look positively distinguished. He was lean, half a head shorter than I was, with slender fingers and eyes that reminded me of cloudy, stormy nights. He walked purposefully towards the counter, despite having to feel his way around with his cane—carved from gorgeous wenge wood, he'd told me once—and he turned towards me as if he could see me. Even after all these years, the gesture still unnerved me.

  I cleared my throat as I closed the velvet bag and put it on the counter. "Good morning, Mister Kovu."

  "Good morning, Marek. Are those my bulbs I hear rattling?"

  I rarely manned the counter—not many wanted to be served by a drifter—but it warmed me that he'd remembered my name from the few times we'd interacted. Though, merely hearing the clear, light, and pleasantly musical sound of his voice had that same effect on me. Carefully weighing my words, rehearsing them in silence before speaking, I told him they were all glowing brightly again. "No burners this time." I never quite knew what to say to him. Oh, I knew what I wanted to say, but despite Hennen remembering my name, I doubted he'd appreciate me calling him gorgeous or asking him out.

  "That's good to hear. I'll be back next week instead of my usual schedule. You can expect a lot of burners then. My nephew is staying with me this weekend. He's at that volatile age, and his magic has managed to burn out most of my sister's bulbs already."

  I bit my lip and glared at the connecting door, but thought the better of calling out for help from Roni. I had no idea what our schedule was next week; all I ever did was charge the pebbles placed on my desk, "I'm sure we can fit you in."

  "If not, I'll make sure we have plenty of replacements in inventory."

  I jumped. I hadn't even heard Roni come in. Had she been listening at the door?

  "Thank you, Mistress Volker." Hennen inclined his head toward us. "A good day to you both."

  I raised my hand in greeting, and froze. Silly bugger that I was. It wasn't as if he could see it. I sighed and leaned on the counter as I admired Hennen's elegant gait, cane or no cane, until the door closed behind him.

  "Just ask him," Roni whispered next to me. She put her hand on my shoulder and shot me a smile as I turned toward her. "The worst that can happen is that he says no."

  And that was why I would never ask him. I couldn't bear knowing he didn't want me.

  *~*~*

  Settled in Pop's comfy chair in the corner of his office, I read my younger nephews and nieces a story. Inis and Ommi sat on my lap and cuddled up to me, while the rest were lounging on scattered pillows on the floor in front of me. Korf, the family dog—and parttime child minder—lay on my feet. Slivers of conversations drifted in from the canteen. Nothing but small talk was exchanged during dinner, as per Mom's rules, and thanks to landing storyteller duty, no one had accosted me after dinner. Yet it was only a matter of time before they started in on their monthly rehashing of good advice to me. Of course, not attending our monthly gathering was out of the question. Any one of my siblings would be pounding on my door to come get me, if only to get Mom and Pop off their backs. Problem was, I didn't merely have Mom and Pop on my back, I had eight siblings emulating them. The joys of being the youngest. The dreaded ninth. The drifter.

  They never planned on having nine children. No one did. Nine was a hexed number. Born to be unlucky. Mom certainly hadn't expected twins when she became pregnant the eighth time. I was the youngest, by half an hour. And the issue of most conversations around the house for as long as I could remember. Why none of them could understand my reasons for leaving the family cleaning business was beyond me. Aside from the fact that the job had been plain boring—not that being a lighter was less boring, but at least the lights were pretty—being surrounded by family day and night had been a nightmare. Smothered didn't even come close to describing it.

  Inis crawled off my lap when I finished the story, but Ommi—my twin sister's youngest and mirror image—threw his arms around my neck and begged for another story. I planted a kiss on his curls and turned the page. Anything to stave off the interrogation. After the second story came a third, but before they could ask for a fourth, Mouran, my twin, came in and sent them outside to play.

  It was hard to believe at times that we both turned thirty three months ago. Mouran was so full of life. Always had been. I followed her into the hall and helped her sort out coats and shoes and twisted laces, with Ommi hanging on my back until it was his turn, while the oldest two of my nephews gathered them all outside. The large office hall seemed awfully quiet by the time they were all outside.

  Mouran glanced into the canteen before dragging me back into Pop's office. "How have you been, Marek?"

  She was probably my only ally. The only one of us, aside from me, who didn't work at the family cleaning business. Mouran worked at the hospital as a cleaner of magic poisoning and infections and the like. Not quite the same as a lowly lighter. Maybe it was because she was my twin sister, but she was the least judgemental one of our family. "I've been all right." It wasn't true, but it wasn't a lie either. I was healthy, considering my drifter status, I had a job, a home, and a family willing to take care of me, as scary as that idea was. As long as she didn't ask me if I was happy, I wouldn't have to lie.

  "Good. Stay away from Pop as long as you can manage."

  "Pop? Why?"

  Mouran rolled her eyes. "He met this young man last week, thinks he's just your type."

  I sighed. "Let me guess. He's a drifter."

  "Yeah. Sorry."

  There were so few of us, and yet Pop managed to meet every single one living in this city. "Think I can slip out early?"

  "Without talking to either of them? Are you mad?"

  "Wasn't that the official diagnosis? Faulty magic, faulty brains?"

  Mouran shook her head and hugged me. "You know better than that."

  I glared at her. It didn't matter that I did, not as long as others still treated me like a pariah, and Mouran knew that as well.

  "Are you still seeing your counsellor?"

  "Sure. But he only asks the same questions you do, and then sends me off for another month or two. As long as I have a job and can sustain myself, he doesn't think I need him."

  "But you're not—"

  My fingers against her lips stopped her from finishing that statement. No, I wasn't happy, but the last thing I wanted was to hear her confirm it. "I can't stay. Tell them I forgot to feed Lois or something." We both knew my cat was perfectly capable of feeding herself.

  Mouran sighed, peered into the canteen, and pulled me into a hug. "Go. But we will talk about this." She walked into the canteen, striking up a conversation with Pop to divert his attention from me.

  I grabbed my hat a
nd cloak, and with one last look into the canteen, I walked out the front door. The kids were playing on the field between my parents' office building and their house. I paused and watched them. All tall and broad built, like most of the Moss family. Built like bricks, Mom always said, and loud to boot. Made to last, is what Pop called us. Well... most of us, anyway. I waved at the kids as I continued on my way, though none of them were paying any attention to me.

  Despite the chilly wind and the cloudy sky, the sun had agreed to share some of its warmth, and I decided against flagging a cart. A decent walk might put my head on straight. Or at least tire me out enough to stop thinking. Around me the landscape slowly changed as I exited Vector Five, the business park where my parents lived and worked, and crossed into Vector Four, which contained mostly terraced houses. I took a sharp left at the first crossing, and walked into the park that ended up in Vector Three. From there it would be another hour and two more Vectors—Six and Seven—to cross before I reached my tiny flat in Vector Eight. I ignored the four flights of stairs I'd have to climb before I could sink down on my sofa.

  The park was busy with people chatting and kids playing, all no doubt taking advantage of what was probably one of the last dry days we'd get for a while. A ball rolled against my foot, and when I turned my head, a kid stopped in his tracks, obviously wondering if he'd dare approach the big man to ask for his ball back. I smiled at him and kicked the ball his way. He threw me a tentative smile, grabbed his ball, and ran away.

  Shaking my head, I started walking again, only to trip over something and land on my hands and knees on the path. I bit my lip in an attempt not to curse as I plonked down on my butt and wiped the grit off my hands. Probably looked like a right twat, sitting in the middle of the path, breathing through the stinging pain in my hands and knees. At least my trousers hadn't ripped. They were my best pair, expensive linen, which I saved for special occasions like visiting my family.

  A hand patted my shoulder. I looked up and froze, staring straight into Hennen Kovu's unseeing eyes.