The Devil Eats Here (Multi-Author Short Story Collection) by Alice Gaines, Tara Maya, Rayne Hall, Jonathan Broughton, Siewleng Torossian, John Hoddy, John Blackport, Douglas Kolacki, April Grey Page A
Authors: Alice Gaines, Tara Maya, Rayne Hall, Jonathan Broughton, Siewleng Torossian, John Hoddy, John Blackport, Douglas Kolacki, April Grey
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bastard expected her to train the woman who’d gotten her job.
“You’ve been here a while, Cyn.” Stew gave her an oily smile.
“Six years.” Six long years of scrimping and saving in hopes of buying a piece of the American dream – her own house – only to watch the ridiculous real estate market snatch her dream away from her time after time. Without this promotion, she’d have to spend years scraping together a down payment, if she could even get a mortgage. Now her chances collapsed, thanks to Stewart and his obsession with leggy, skinny blondes.
“I look forward to working with you, Cynthia,” the skinny blonde said. She didn’t look as if she looked forward to it, though. Her nose and brows lifted and her lip curled as if she didn't quite approve of Cyn, as if she planned to deliver mini-lectures on the "epidemic of obesity" and leave low-carb diet sheets around the office.
”I look forward to it, too, Carole,” Cyn said sweetly. “Say, I wonder if I might have a word with Stewart alone.”
Carole’s eyebrow went up even further, and she glanced over at Stew for guidance.
His beady eyes narrowed in disapproval. Then, he gave Carole a slick smile and gestured toward the door. “Would you excuse us?”
“Of course.” Carole rose and sashayed to the office door, leaving behind a cloying cloud of Mademoiselle Coco. She paused with her hand on the knob. “Lunch later?”
“Sure, doll.”
Doll? Stew called his new accounts manager “doll”? He’d put Cyn off her feed if he ever called her anything like that. It didn’t seem to bother Carole, though, because she smiled and let herself out, closing the door behind her.
“That was pretty rude,” Stew said, his pointy weasel nose all a-twitch. “You’re going to have to interface with Carole on a daily basis, you know.”
“How could you do this?” Cyn demanded.
“Do what?”
“How could you hire someone from the outside?”
A printer rattled, a phone beeped, and a computer voice chirped about an anti-virus update.
Cyn waited.
“I never bottom-lined it for you.” More nose-twitching. Stewart always got that rodent look on his face when he lied.
“You told me all I had to do to prove I was manager material was to run Customer Accounts for a while. I did it for four months - and without a rise in salary. I defined the target audience for our new imprint, developed and implemented the strategy for social network promotion, and increased our customer base by four percent and our income by eight. In four months, I achieved more for the company than my predecessor did in four years!”
“I appreciate your task-orientedness.” Stew steepled his hands on the imitation oak desk. “But it’s time to sunset that work modality for you and look at what’s best for this company at the end of the day.”
“Speak English, Stewart.”
His eyes narrowed even further. “Carole has more experience than you.”
She also had pert boobs, long legs and non-existent hips, and she put up with being called “doll” - Stewart’s dream of a seductive yet compliant female.
“Besides,” he said. “She’s an asset, brand-wise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We have a company website, you know.”
“I ought to. I designed it.”
“Carole’s picture there projects an image. It says, ‘this is a company with a winning paradigm.’”
“Excuse me?”
Stewart took a deep breath. “It says we have our feet on the ground, our nose to the grindstone, and our eyes on the prize.”
And our head up our ass. She didn't speak her thought loud. Instead, she said, “Eye candy on the website.”
“You’re being counterproductive, Cyn,” Stew said. “You need to stay on-goal.”
“Oh, I’m on goal.” She rose, planted her fists on Stew’s desk and stared down at him. “And my goal requires promotion. Specifically, the position of customer account manager, and the salary that goes with it.”
“The company has plenty of
“You’ve been here a while, Cyn.” Stew gave her an oily smile.
“Six years.” Six long years of scrimping and saving in hopes of buying a piece of the American dream – her own house – only to watch the ridiculous real estate market snatch her dream away from her time after time. Without this promotion, she’d have to spend years scraping together a down payment, if she could even get a mortgage. Now her chances collapsed, thanks to Stewart and his obsession with leggy, skinny blondes.
“I look forward to working with you, Cynthia,” the skinny blonde said. She didn’t look as if she looked forward to it, though. Her nose and brows lifted and her lip curled as if she didn't quite approve of Cyn, as if she planned to deliver mini-lectures on the "epidemic of obesity" and leave low-carb diet sheets around the office.
”I look forward to it, too, Carole,” Cyn said sweetly. “Say, I wonder if I might have a word with Stewart alone.”
Carole’s eyebrow went up even further, and she glanced over at Stew for guidance.
His beady eyes narrowed in disapproval. Then, he gave Carole a slick smile and gestured toward the door. “Would you excuse us?”
“Of course.” Carole rose and sashayed to the office door, leaving behind a cloying cloud of Mademoiselle Coco. She paused with her hand on the knob. “Lunch later?”
“Sure, doll.”
Doll? Stew called his new accounts manager “doll”? He’d put Cyn off her feed if he ever called her anything like that. It didn’t seem to bother Carole, though, because she smiled and let herself out, closing the door behind her.
“That was pretty rude,” Stew said, his pointy weasel nose all a-twitch. “You’re going to have to interface with Carole on a daily basis, you know.”
“How could you do this?” Cyn demanded.
“Do what?”
“How could you hire someone from the outside?”
A printer rattled, a phone beeped, and a computer voice chirped about an anti-virus update.
Cyn waited.
“I never bottom-lined it for you.” More nose-twitching. Stewart always got that rodent look on his face when he lied.
“You told me all I had to do to prove I was manager material was to run Customer Accounts for a while. I did it for four months - and without a rise in salary. I defined the target audience for our new imprint, developed and implemented the strategy for social network promotion, and increased our customer base by four percent and our income by eight. In four months, I achieved more for the company than my predecessor did in four years!”
“I appreciate your task-orientedness.” Stew steepled his hands on the imitation oak desk. “But it’s time to sunset that work modality for you and look at what’s best for this company at the end of the day.”
“Speak English, Stewart.”
His eyes narrowed even further. “Carole has more experience than you.”
She also had pert boobs, long legs and non-existent hips, and she put up with being called “doll” - Stewart’s dream of a seductive yet compliant female.
“Besides,” he said. “She’s an asset, brand-wise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We have a company website, you know.”
“I ought to. I designed it.”
“Carole’s picture there projects an image. It says, ‘this is a company with a winning paradigm.’”
“Excuse me?”
Stewart took a deep breath. “It says we have our feet on the ground, our nose to the grindstone, and our eyes on the prize.”
And our head up our ass. She didn't speak her thought loud. Instead, she said, “Eye candy on the website.”
“You’re being counterproductive, Cyn,” Stew said. “You need to stay on-goal.”
“Oh, I’m on goal.” She rose, planted her fists on Stew’s desk and stared down at him. “And my goal requires promotion. Specifically, the position of customer account manager, and the salary that goes with it.”
“The company has plenty of
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