Read Online The Carrier (The Carrier Series Book 1) by Diana Ryan - Free Book Online Page B

leaned into the lady by the window in the
back row, by putting on my sweetest tour guide voice and asking her if she’d
like to purchase a book. She smiled at me and handed it back. No problem. I’ve
never had one hundred percent of a boat buy. The next lady handed the book back
to me as well, and then the next. And the next.
    This was...interesting.
    I continued through the rows. Old lady after
old lady handed me their book back. I made it through the entire bottom deck without
selling one single book. Impossible. I thought for a second that I should
ask Jack to give the pitch again. Maybe these blue-hairs didn’t have their
hearing aids turned on. During the tour I had made an effort to speak with the
ladies up on the top deck; perhaps I should have made an effort down here too.
    The ladies on the back deck handed me the
books, complaining that they couldn’t hear me over the noise from the engines.
I apologized and headed up the stairs to the top deck. The top deck, in general,
was a pretty sweet ride. It was simply magical taking an open-air ride through
the Dells with nothing to block your view. But as I should have guessed, row
after row, the old ladies handed me their books back. Some said things like,
“No thanks, but I really enjoyed your tour, young lady,” or, “Your singing was
beautiful, honey, but no thanks.” I finished collecting the books and had not a
single dollar in my hand.
    What the hell?
    I stormed through the top deck, down the
stairs, opened the closet in the back where I kept the books, and threw them
down haphazardly into the box. I was pissed. It felt as though row after row,
each little old grandma stood up and smacked my cheek with as much force as her
flabby arm could administer. A tear grew in my eye, and then I heard that sweet
song still singing through the speakers. I left the closet, stormed up the
aisle between all the empty-handed old ladies, slammed myself into my chair,
and stopped my iPod mid-track.
    “What the hell happened?” Jack loudly whispered
at me.
    “We got gotched .” My
arms were folded across my chest, breathing heavily. I picked up my yellow
notebook and scratched a zero in for the trip. I threw it back on the counter
without a care and let the pen roll off and drop to the floor.
    “No shit?” Jack was baffled. I could see it in
his face. Then he muttered, “Impossible,” and hit the throttle. The faster we
got back to the dock, the better.
    After the gotch disaster, we hung our heads and headed up to the ticket booth looking for some
jokes and funny stories from Suzanne. Brian was there, but no Suzanne.
    “Hey, kids! So I heard your OLS gotched ya ! That takes talent,
seriously.”
    Boy, news travels fast. But how did anybody
know?
    Brian turned his back to the ticket window and
held up a hand for a high five. We both completely ignored him.
    Jack slammed his hand down on the ticket
counter. “Come on! We just got off the dock! Who told you?”
    I wanted to yell, “Amen!” but kept it to
myself.
    “Easy, Captain Jack. Rob
watched the whole lot walk by the dispatch booth empty-handed and took a wild
guess. He immediately called me up front to check as they shuffled by with
their walkers and wheelchairs. I confirmed, not a single tour book in any
hands!” He let out a laugh, annoying to only Jack and me, and we turned to
leave the booth in frustration. Suzanne arrived for work at that same moment
and blocked the door to the booth.
    “Well, if it isn’t the only crew ever to get gotched on an OLS!” There was that big, annoying laugh of
hers again.
    “Unbelievable,” Jack muttered. “Let’s get out
of here, Ava.” Jack pushed his way past Suzanne as she set her briefcase on the
counter and opened the till. I followed him out the door, and we both could
hear Suzanne and Brian still laughing as we headed back toward the docks.
    The Lower Dells docks were located at the busy
intersection of Highways 12 and 16. The corner lot contained a large