Read Online Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg - Free Book Online Page A

“Angel, attention to detail is
paramount
in this office.” I was a very small mouse to her great big cat, and there was nowhere to run. But as soon as I began to formulate some sort of verbal escape, Lucy shifted her tone once more. “This is very
filmic,
” she said. “Yes, I definitely think so. Get him on the phone, let’s sign him up before he goes somewhere else.” I started to rise, but she held up her hand, palm out. “No, wait,” she said. “Let’s just see something first.” She walked around to her desk and punched her intercom button. “Anna!”
    â€œYup?”
    â€œGet Natalie Weinstein on the phone.”
    â€œOkay, Lucy. Is there anything else you need right now? I could get you a—”
    â€œNatalie. Weinstein. Anna. Now.”
    Lucy positioned herself at her desk and motioned for me to come closer. “I want you to hear this,” she said. I noticed that her voice had dropped an octave or two and had what I could only call a seductive tone washing through it. As soon as she was connected with Natalie Weinstein, Lucy began rearranging the items on her desk with her free hand. This was a pattern I would soon become very familiar with. Whenever she was on the phone, and that was a good portion of every day, Lucy compulsively stacked the notepads, paper clips, pens, and anything else that was on her desk. She moved the largest items into the center first, progressively piling on items as they decreased in size, until there was a small tower in the middle of her desk. Then she took them down, item by item, and placed them in the corners of the desk. If she was still on the phone at that point, she’d begin the process again. She repeated these motions over and over as she talked to Natalie Weinstein, and I became hypnotized, watching her hands move back and forth as her voice filled the room.
    â€œIt’s really hot,” she was saying, “and I thought of
you
first. I’ve got a virgin author here, came in over the transom. Yes, we
do
read our unsolicited manuscripts over here. Anyway, he’s a divine Italian man with a blockbuster novel idea. Yes, I have the novel right here.”
    I watched the notepads stack up and come down.
    â€œWell, it turns out he’s written the Italian
Trainspotting.
Actually, it’s more like
Trainspotting
meets
Under the Tuscan Sun.
Exquisite writing.”
    Up, down, up, down.
    â€œHe’s a heroin addict and he’s written the most vivid account of—Yes, I agree, there certainly is a market. Listen, Nat, this is
very
hot. He’s still addicted. What? No, did I say addicted?
Recovery.
He’s still in recovery. But it’s—well, you know what a slippery slope recovery can be.”
    I watched her hand pick up a pen and begin writing a note.
    â€œYes, he’s Italian. From Milano. Drop-dead gorgeous. You know how Italian men are.”
    She held up the note for me to see.
Do we have author photo?
it asked. I shook my head in the negative. She continued to write.
He’d better be good looking!
she added to her note.
    â€œHe’s already working on a sequel. Actually, he has two more books in the works. We could have an antihero series character here. He’s calling it the…let me find it here…yes,
The Horse Triptych.
What? Well, that doesn’t matter, he can always change the title.”
    She offered me a dramatic eye roll.
    â€œYes, I will, Nat. I can’t guarantee—Well, I can offer you an exclusive if—Fine, I’ll have it on your desk tomorrow. You understand, I have to move on this right away. But, of course, I thought of you first.”
    Lucy hung the phone up abruptly and, snapped out of my trance, my eyes shot to her face. I was impressed and also a little frightened. Lucy was assuming an awful lot without having spoken one word to Damiano Vero. I had no doubt, however, that she would get everything she was asking