Book-of-the-Week-Club

a writer's family helps him get his book published

THE BOOK-OF-THE-WEEK CLUB

 

 

"We'll have Juicy Lucy pick you up," Notlieb heard Gilligan say when he called up.

"Juicy who?" Notlieb said.

"Juicy Lucy. You know her, right? Isn't she your cousin?"

"Oh, Juicy Lucy. Right. Sure," Notlieb said. "But I don't need a ride. I’ve got a car."

"Don't worry about it. The Juice will pick you up. She knows where it is."

"Where what is?"

"The meeting for the results. The results are coming in. The meeting with the ‘Book-Of-The-Week Club.’ They need to check the sales. It'll determine the contract. The amount of money they'll pay. You know."

"The book is finished?"

"Sure. All done."

"Editing�"all that?"

"Sure. It's all taken care of."

"But I didn't get a chance to look at the book."

"You looked at it before you gave it to me, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"So, what are you worried about?"

"Just worried there might be some last minute changes."

"You trust your relatives, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, sure."

"Then don't worry about it. We got the best editors in the business. In fact, the editors are also reviewing the book�"writing reviews."

"They are?"

"Sure. Your relatives. They get paid for the reviews. It all works out. Don't worry. Juice will pick you up."

"Oh, sure," Notlieb said. "When is she coming?"

"She should be there any minute."

Notlieb's secretary stuck her head in his office. “Hold on,” he said into the phone, then covered the receiver in his hand.

“Lucy Gilligan is here,” his secretary said.

Getting back on the line, Notlieb said, "She's here."

"Okay," Gilligan said. "I'll meet you there." He then hung up.

Notlieb came out of his office to see a sandy haired young woman, quite attractive, in a short t-shirt, amply displaying her belly button, and cut off jeans, that showed as much of her beautiful legs as possible.

"Lucy?" Notlieb asked.

"Juice," she said, extending a hand to shake. "Let's go."

"Sure. Okay. We're off."

 

They went out into the parking lot. Notlieb saw a huge garbage truck with a ‘Perdition’ logo on the door, idling. To his amazement, Juice stepped up into the cab behind the wheel. She slammed the door. Through the open window she said, "Come on. Get in. Let's go."

Notlieb dutifully circled around the front of the massive contraption and climbed in the passenger side door.

He sat down and Juice began to expertly shift through the gears, using a four foot long gear shift.

They sped through traffic up route nine, ignoring other vehicles as if they didn't exist.

He watched other motorists, terror stricken, peeling away from her path.

"Smoke?" Juice said.

He tore his eyes from the road with some effort. He glanced over to see her extending a pack of Lucky's.

"Yeah, sure," he said, even though he had with tremendous effort, just quit.

With an old "Viet Nam Vet" engraved butane lighter, she lit the trembling cigarette he held in his lips, snapping it shut after she lit her own, almost grazing a guardrail in the process.

"So," she said, "glad to have you on board."

She now turned serious as she franticly down shifted up to the light at Boght Road. Notlieb now noticed a small, light brown birthmark just above her right hip. He couldn't help staring at it.

In a few minutes she was downshifting again, this time in front of the entrance to the Colonie landfill. She didn't slow down much, and took the turn at high speed. He could almost feel the truck going up on two wheels as they headed up the hill.

"Damn truck has no power," she said. "Need to have some speed to make it up here. Of course, used to be it wasn't this bad, but they keep piling on the garbage. We're riding on it now."

This didn't surprise Notlieb. He smelled the pungent odor, which could only be compared with that of dirty diapers.

She pulled up in front of a group of men, one of whom was Gilligan. As a matter of fact, it appeared that Gilligan was taking a quaff from a can of something. It was 10 in the morning. Notlieb thought to himself, could they be drinking beer?

Juice now backed the truck into position. Notlieb saw the men throw their cans away. Juice got out of the truck and said, "Hi, guys. Ready?"

"Ready," Gilligan said.

Notlieb got out and walked over to see Juice working some levers on the side of the truck.

As the truck noisily started churning Notlieb saw that it was parked on a huge scale. Gilligan read a dial apparently measuring the weight of the loaded vehicle.

"Hmmm," Gilligan said. "Looks good."

The two other men wrote in small notepads. One took a photo of the scale.

"For the front office," the guy said.

"All set?” Gilligan said.

The other men nodded.

"Okay, Juice. Let 'er rip!"

Juice hit the levers. Notlieb watched in amazement as tons of books tumbled out of the garbage truck, all with the same cover. It was his book!

"What's going on?" Notlieb said.

"The weigh in. The sale. Here, meet Steve Dubronovich and Jacky Dunn. They're with the Book-Of-The-Week Club."

Jacky shook Notlieb's hand. Steve was busy writing a check. Notlieb just got a glance at it. $758,000. Steve ripped it off and handed it to Gilligan. Notlieb watched landfill workers in bulldozers covering up the books with dirt.

Notlieb got down on his knees and examined the covers of a few of the books, just before they were covered with nice black soil. They all had his name on them.

Gilligan pulled Notlieb up and slapped him on the back. "You got a best seller. Come on. Ride back with me."

Author's Note

typical novelette by ebook writer Icy Rivers