MultiDate Read online

  MultiDate

  KIRSTY MCMANUS

  Copyright © 2018 Kirsty McManus

  All rights reserved.

  For Kesh

  Thanks to…

  I am so lucky to know such a great bunch of authors and other writing-related people to help me out with my books!

  This time around, I want to say a special thank you to:

  Diane Michaels, for being so lovely, and so reliable, and providing helpful (but gentle) feedback.

  Louise Guy, for your feedback, and also the ego boost every time I talk to you. You are awesome!

  Natasha, for fitting me in despite your ridiculously hectic schedule!

  And thanks to Sofie de Cocker, for being so supportive. I can’t wait until you finally release your book, so I can tell the world about it!

  ONE

  Ugh. I’m in hell. Actually, it’s probably more like what people equate with purgatory—a bland location with no stimuli and no fun people to talk to. It’s like the ‘medium place’ in that show starring Kristen Bell and Ted Danson. But at least there, they get warm beer and music (even if it’s only live recordings by The Eagles). Here, we’re not allowed to listen to music, and I definitely would not try to bring alcohol into the building. I wouldn’t even be able to sneak out for a drink at lunchtime, because there’s nowhere to go within walking distance.

  Welcome to my world as a sales assistant at Loony Rob’s mobile phone store. (For the record, there is nothing even remotely loony about the place.)

  A customer walks through the door, and my colleague, Cam, stands up.

  “I’ll take this one,” he says, as if he automatically assumes I’ll agree.

  “Why?” I hiss quietly. “You already took the last three. Don’t you have paperwork to sort out?”

  He shrugs. “The paperwork can wait. Clients respond better to me. I’m just doing what’s best for the business.”

  Ha. You mean what’s best for you and your commissions.

  He’s totally deluded about the whole ‘people respond better to him’ thing, by the way. If we operated on an even playing field, things would be a lot different.

  He smooths down his tie and glides over to the customer. “Hi, sir. How can I help you today?”

  I watch from my desk in the opposite corner. Cam is such a tool.

  Sorry, that sounded a bit harsh. I’m worried I’m turning into a bitter old woman at the age of twenty-three. But it’s true. Cam is stuck in the eighties, with his shoulder-padded power suits and belief that women should be locked away at home, chained to the kitchen sink. He thinks he’s so much better than me. But he’s not. What Cam doesn’t know is that I used to work as a real estate agent, and I regularly closed much higher value deals than here. It was pretty impressive, considering I was barely out of high school. So, yeah. I can sell rings around Cam. I just can’t be bothered fighting him for every customer.

  But since he insists on serving everyone, it can make for very long and boring days. Our office is slightly out of the Brisbane CBD in the industrial part of Albion, so we’re not the easiest place to find. I mostly get the customers Cam thinks are beneath him, either because they don’t have much money to spend, or because they’re women he considers unattractive. Most of the time I’m fine with that, because I find the customers with the least money are the most grateful when you give them some attention. And I get way more satisfaction from helping out an elderly lady than an arrogant businessman.

  Still. It would be nice to have a little variety in my job.

  Today has been particularly draining. In the last four hours, I’ve only sold one pre-paid sim card and one sparkly glitter iPhone cover. Both to people Cam didn’t rate as important because they weren’t carbon copies of him. Or supermodels.

  I open the store’s intranet on my PC and read through the latest memos. I’ve already seen most of them. The only new ones are a couple of price changes, and a promo for some Bluetooth earpiece. Do people even wear those things anymore? But anyway, I pride myself on keeping up to date with every single new bit of information that gets sent to the store. It’s the least I can do, considering all the downtime between customers.

  I covertly watch Cam perform his sales voodoo. He talks in that smooth, used-car-salesman tone that reeks of inauthenticity. I’m surprised anyone falls for that act in this day and age, but it seems to be working right now. Cam pats the guy on the shoulder and points to a leather seat in front of his desk before heading to the back room, presumably to retrieve a new handset.

  He winks at me as he passes. “See? He and I get each other.”

  I roll my eyes. That’s certainly nothing to brag about. I’m dying to tell him about the time I sold a four million dollar property to a famous tennis player (sure, I had to split the commission with another agent, but it was still a huge amount). But I don’t, because then I’d have to go into why I left the industry, and I can’t deal with that right now. Chris, our manager, knows what I used to do, but Cam has never asked, and I’ve never volunteered the information.

  Cam reappears with a new iPhone and prints out a contract. He goes through an elaborate performance of turning on the phone and demonstrating all its fancy functions before waving the customer off with his new purchase. Cam turns to me and grins. “That’s how it’s done.”

  “Ooh. You’re so magical,” I coo. And then I turn serious. “You don’t think I could have closed that sale?”

  “I don’t know,” he says in a tone that clearly indicates he doesn’t. “He did have six months left on his contract and I sweet-talked the activations department into cancelling the termination fee.”

  “Good for you.”

  “You want to know how I did it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I remembered a clever little loophole about guaranteed customer coverage.”

  “But that usually only applies in the first month of a contract,” I point out.

  “I told the guy in activations that my customer had just moved house and was now in a black spot.”

  “But didn’t he ask for the new address? And don’t they make you upgrade to a satellite phone or something?”

  “They don’t force you. Anyway, I bullshitted the guy in activations, telling him we’d call back later with the new address, but also saying that I’d read a study about the new iPhone having some increased antenna function that was almost as good as satellite.”

  “That’s kind of dishonest. Not to mention ridiculously elaborate. I can’t believe he fell for it.”

  He chuckles. “I can be pretty convincing. Besides, I helped the customer, and now I’ve scored another fifty bucks in commission.”

  The guy is intolerable. He even looks sleazy, from his sandy, blonde hair that he parts on the side, to his icy blue eyes and narrow nose. Not that his actual features are a problem. It’s the way he arranges them that is. He has this permanent look on his face, like he knows something you don’t. Plus, he insists on wearing a tie every day, which is slightly overcompensating when you work in retail and live in sub-tropical south-east Queensland.

  When I’ve moaned about Cam to my best friend (and roommate), Katie, she jokes that we must have some unresolved chemistry. The thought of getting physical with Cam makes me want to puke. It’s not even a love-hate relationship. It’s hate-hate.

  “You know what? I think we should make a little wager,” I say.

  He eyes me warily. “What kind of wager?”

  “For the rest of the day, we alternate customers, and whoever reaches 5pm with the highest commission figures is the winner.”

  “What do I get if I win?”

  “What do you want?” I shoot back.

  He rubs his chin. “Hmm…okay. If I win, you hav
e to be my assistant for the next month. That means making my coffee every morning, doing all my paperwork, and being at my beck and call.”

  I gulp. He’s already hard to take. That would just add a whole new level of emotional suffering. But I’m pretty sure I can outsell him if the customer demographics are spread evenly.

  “All right. And if I win, you give me half your corporate accounts.” The corporate accounts are the big value ones. Because Cam started working here before me, he claimed all of them and refuses to give any up. I’ve never forced the issue until now.

  He blanches. “Half?”

  I nod. “Mm-hmm. I’m sick of getting all the ten dollar sales while you get the thousand dollar ones.”

  For a moment, I think he’s going to pull out of the bet. But then he shakes his head, and with that stupid smirk he always does, holds out a hand to seal the deal. I take it.

  “You’re on,” he says.

  I knew his ego couldn’t turn down a bet against a woman.

  “Excellent. So to start, we should probably toss a coin to decide who gets the next customer.”

  “Whatever you want,” he says dismissively. “I don’t even mind giving you the first one, because I’m still going to beat you.”

  “No, no. We need to do this right.” I find a twenty-cent piece someone left in a tray of knick-knacks on the counter and perch it on my thumb. “Heads or tails?”

  “Tails,” he says.

  I toss the coin in the air, catch it on my hand and flip it over.

  “Tails,” I confirm.

  His face lights up. “Already winning.”

  I bite back a retort. It means nothing.

  We both return to our desks and pretend to busy ourselves with our computers. Well, I can’t vouch for Cam, but I have zero work to do until my next customer enters the store—which won’t be at least until after Cam’s next one.

  It takes about fifteen minutes—and then a teenage boy comes in. This should be interesting. Cam hates dealing with teenagers. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a grey hoodie, and he has a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck.

  Cam refuses to look in my direction. Maybe he’s worried I’ll try to psyche him out. Which admittedly, I might do. There’s a lot on the line today.

  “Hey, mate,” he says, approaching the guy. “What can I help you with today?”

  “Oh, yeah, hey. Uh, my screen’s cracked. I dropped my phone in the toilet last night.” He tries to give it to Cam, but Cam backs away, as if it was always his intention to go straight to the computer.

  “Let me just check your contract,” he says smoothly.

  “Uh, do you need to know that? All I want to do is get the screen fixed.”

  “I’m just trying to find you the most affordable outcome,” Cam explains. “Is your number with us?”

  The guy looks around at the store signage as if he’s noticing it for the first time. “I’m not sure. Can you look it up?”

  “That I can.” I notice the vein in Cam’s neck starting to bulge—a sure sign he’s already getting frustrated. Ha. I know that a straight screen repair will result in no commission, whereas a new contract will. And while technically, the guy won’t be out of pocket today if he signs up for a new phone, he will be committing to a minimum spend over the next two years that will be much higher.

  “Hang on, I can’t remember what it is.” He types something on the cracked screen and then holds it up for Cam to see. “I think that’s it.”

  Cam diligently copies the number into his computer. “Okay. Mr. Simon Mackey?”

  “That’s my dad,” the guy confirms. “I’m Jake.”

  “Right. Well, it looks like you still have another seven months on contract, and because the damage isn’t a manufacturer fault, you will be charged the full amount of the repair. I could find out the early termination fee for the contract if you like? It might be less.”

  “Honestly dude, that sounds like too much hard work. Just tell me how much for the new screen. Besides, wouldn’t my dad have to agree to the termination?”

  Yes. Yes, he would.

  Cam manages to maintain his composure, but the pressure is building in that vein. “If you’re over eighteen, we could do a transfer of ownership, which won’t take long and won’t cost you anything upfront. On the other hand, the screen repair will cost one hundred and thirty dollars. And it’ll be away for at least three days.”

  “Damn. I don’t have time to do all that transfer of ownership crap, but I can’t go three days without a phone. Don’t you have, like, a rental phone or something I can borrow while it’s away?”

  “Afraid not,” Cam says, shaking his head with fake regret. “But if we signed you up for a new contract today, you wouldn’t have that problem. And I promise it will only take fifteen minutes.”

  Hang on. We totally have rental phones. I mean, they’re not amazing, but we have them. Cam can’t rig the contest by breaking the rules.

  “Actually, I could just double check to see if we have a spare rental phone?” I offer.

  Cam glares at me, but Jake’s face lights up. “Thanks!”

  “No problem.” I jump up and head towards the back room. Cam follows.

  “What are you doing?” he snaps when we’re out of hearing range.

  “Um, my job? Which is more than I can say for you. You can’t cheat on our bet.”

  “I’m not cheating. You didn’t say anything about not being able to upsell.”

  “You can upsell if you’re being honest. You lied about the rental phones.”

  “Because the guy doesn’t know what’s good for him. If he dropped the phone in the toilet, it’s probably going to have corrosion in a few weeks, and then he’ll have to get a new phone anyway.”

  “Fine. You tell him that and let him make up his own mind. But also tell him we have rental phones.”

  “Whatever.” He stalks back out, grabbing one of the rental phones we don’t normally give to people and holds it up as if it’s the latest technology.

  “You’re in luck,” he tells Jake. “We have one of those Nokia 3310 reboot phones.”

  “Oh, cool. What’s a Nokia 3310?”

  “It was the phone to have back in 2000.”

  He furrows his brow. “That’s the year I was born.”

  “Well, it’s made a bit of a comeback. You’ll love it. It’s super fast, makes calls and does texts, and it has this great old-school game called Snake.”

  Jake takes it from Cam and looks at it dubiously. “The screen is pretty small.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, that doesn’t matter, because it’s not a touchscreen. And you won’t really be using the browser…”

  “Why won’t I be using the browser?”

  “It’s not designed for that. Listen, Jake. We’re happy to help you out with a phone while yours is away, but we don’t have a bunch of the latest iPhones sitting around as rentals or anything…”

  Actually, we do. Well, not the latest latest. But definitely more feature-rich than that Nokia. Although, apparently they’re only for high-spend clients now. I want to call out Cam so bad, but I’ve already made it difficult enough for him. If I interfere again, he’s going to be out for revenge.

  “…and I just want to remind you that we could easily set you up with a new phone right now. There’s a chance your other phone could get corrosion in a few weeks and then you’ll be back here again anyway. I promise I can have the transfer of ownership paperwork printed out in no time.”

  Jake sighs. “Nah. I’ll take the damn Nokia, and I’ll deal with the corrosion issue if it happens. Just sort out whatever you need to do for the screen repair ASAP. I have to meet someone in the city in half an hour.”

  “As you wish.” Cam quickly enters all the repair details and swipes Jake’s debit card to pay for it. “We’ll give you a call as soon as it’s back.”

  “Thanks.” Jake takes the sim card out of his old phone and puts it in the rental. I can hear him muttering unhap
pily to himself as he leaves.

  “You realise this means war, don’t you?” Cam says pleasantly.

  “Bring it on,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel.

  I hope luck is on my side today.

  TWO

  The next hour is slow. I get a few low-value customers, which makes me a little nervous. And when Cam gets a few of his usual type of customer, I’m even more apprehensive. I watch as he does his Rico Suave routine and signs them all up for plans and phones they don’t really want, or are barely able to pay for. I find that kind of thing ethically irresponsible. I’d much rather sell something to someone that they want—not just what they think they want after fifteen minutes of brainwashing.

  But because we have to take alternating clients without argument, Cam gets a few of my usual MO, and I his. I find that I enjoy the novelty—and it is nice earning a few extra dollars in commission that I don’t have to fight for.

  Around 3pm, a guy in an Armani suit walks in. Normally, Cam would be tripping all over himself to serve the guy, but today he can’t. I clear my throat, tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear and approach the customer.

  “Hi, sir, how may I be of assistance today?”

  He turns to look at me and smiles warmly. Ooh. He has nice eyes. They’re greeny-blue with gold flecks.

  “Hi. I’m just looking to upgrade this.” He holds up what looks like a brand new iPhone.

  I take it from him and confirm that it is, in fact, the latest model. “You mustn’t have had this for long. Is there a problem with it?”

  “No, no. It’s working fine. It’s just that I prefer Android, but the IT department at my office talked me into an iPhone, because they’re trying to streamline everything. But I don’t have time to get used to the operating system, and there are some apps I can’t get on the Apple store that I really like. I just want everything to be the way I had it before.”