Will trade clean toilets for dirty books.
Well, as far as want ad titles went it was iffy, but I’d thought it’d gotten my point across pretty well when I’d been knee-deep in midnight margaritas. But sober me was starting to question that as I sorted through the responses I’d gotten to the possibly confusing ad.
At least everyone understood I was trading books and not sex.
Well, almost everyone understood that.
“No, I don’t think that’s legal.” Some people needed to spell better because I couldn’t decipher half of the subject lines. “I think you’re looking for an online bookstore.”
Some people needed to read better too.
The ad hadn’t been that confusing…I’d even had editing help because my editor had been drunk as a skunk too, but she could spell no matter how many drinks she’d consumed.
Editors weren’t human but they were necessary.
“Oh, that’s…” No, I wasn’t going to do that no matter how dirty my house was. “Hmm.”
Before I could open one that actually seemed promising, my phone rang, screaming out “Who Let the Dogs Out.”
I was going to have to change that before Lori found out…she wouldn’t find it nearly as funny as drunk me had…but she really shouldn’t have argued with me about the dog’s name. Henry The Eighth was a great name for a dog whose sole purpose in the story was to kill squeaker toys.
“Hello, Lori, I’m sorry I’m late, but I promise to have the first part to you tomorrow.” Now all I had to do was figure out what she was supposed to have already had…because she didn’t bother tracking me down on an actual phone unless I was late for an editing date.
Was it time for her to edit that Christmas story?
Oh, I had a Christmas story to write.
Shit.
Um, what else could it be?
I didn’t think I’d even told her about that book yet, so I was going to owe her a big bottle of something good for Christmas this year. It wasn’t my fault, though. No one should have to write about Christmas when bathing suits were still in the stores.
Her sigh said she might’ve been psychic enough to know about the Christmas book. “I just woke up and remembered what we’d done. I was calling to make sure you weren’t dead because of some kind of serial killer or stalker.”
Oh.
“You need to read happier books if that was your go-to worry.” At least mine all revolved around dirty sex and running out of caffeine.
“We put up an online ad to exchange free copies of your books for someone to clean your house. That’s dangerous. That’s ridiculous. That’s—”
“That’s brilliant because I think I found one of my readers who lives close by.” I loved my readers. They were just as weird as I was. “Their subject line is even asking if I mean work-in-progress chapters of Teddy’s book too, and I’ve only talked about that in my Facebook group.”
We really were brilliant.
“Okay, so it’s a stalker but at least it’s an educated one?” She wasn’t quite as supportive as she should’ve been considering it’d been her idea to begin with.
“Education is important. Don’t knock it.” It’d be nice to talk to someone who understood what I wrote and could offer opinions. “Think of it like a beta reader and a house cleaner in one.”
And someone else to talk to wouldn’t hurt either.
“I’ll help you find a cleaning service.” Lori sounded kind of desperate, but I was still on the we’re brilliant side of things. “I’ll buy you a label maker for Christmas.”
“You said I couldn’t have one of those.” Not even when I’d made the best-seller list. “You said I’d be a nuisance.”
She was really opinionated about a lot of ridiculous things.
“You are going to be a nuisance with it and you don’t need another distraction in your life.” Her bossiness was starting to come out. She should’ve slept more or just not gone to sleep yet. One of those would’ve made her a happier person.
“I like distractions.” They made working fun. How else would I get that rush of panic that hit when I realized how far behind I was? “Okay, how do I respond? Should I answer their questions about Teddy first or ask if they’ve read my backlist?”
I had to sound logical with my response or they’d think I was as flaky as I actually was.
“Neither. Wasn’t he going to help clean your house? Did they say what their name was? Pronouns? Ask him about his schedule. Does he dust? Does she mop? Will they help you go through that closet?”
I knew I shouldn’t have walked through the house when we’d been on a video call.
“That seems kind of rude.” No foreplay at all. “I want whoever it is to like me.”
Maybe him.
Maybe her.
“They’ve just got initials in their email, but I’m good either way.” I was pan, so it didn’t matter. “I’m sure they’ll be a lot of fun to talk to.”
And hopefully hot and slightly bossy?
“I don’t like the tone in your voice. You’re not dating them, so it doesn’t matter.” She sighed when I just made an agreeing hum. “Tell me you understand you’re not living in a dirty romance novel.”
I would do no such thing.
“When they show up and turn out to be eighty and are get off my lawn grumpy, then I will tell you that I’m not living in a romance novel.” Until that point, I was going to pretend to be living in a romance novel.
“Just think of the inspiration.” Maybe I could turn my life into a Christmas book? “I’ll get so much done.”
She snorted.
“That wasn’t ladylike. What if your husband hears you?” Thankfully, Lori had been married forever, so I didn’t have to worry about the fact that she was bossy and attractive.
“He’s making coffee and he knows I’m talking to you, so anything short of curses won’t surprise him.”
She had the weirdest marriage.
“Wait. Coffee?”
What time was it?
Oh.
“I know the sound of that silence. You haven’t gone to bed yet, have you?” She kept grumbling before I could find a convincing lie. “You’re only sober because it’s been so long since we got off the phone. Goddamn it.”
Ugh.
I needed to learn to lie faster.
“What kind of chores do you think books are worth? I don’t want to be greedy.” But I needed help and I’d gone through three cleaning services in the past year.
I was at the point of hoping an alien landed or figuring out how to find the time to do it myself.
No.
Aliens would work fine.
Her groan said she wasn’t in the mood to be helpful.
“How about you go have your coffee and I’ll talk to you later after you’ve had a nap or chocolate or something?” Anything. “Then we’ll look at the upcoming schedule.”
“For fuck’s sake, what did you forget this time?”
I really had to stop agreeing with things and telling myself I’d talk to her about it later.
“Caffeinate. You’re kind of grumpy. Bye.” Hanging up before she could have a cow, I mentally shoved aside the notes I should be making about the schedule and the Christmas book and read through the email again.
“Well, you’re polite. You spend too much time online but that’s helpful for me. You know my books.” Whoever my wonderful reader was, they had a lot of admirable qualities. “You seem very patient too because you didn’t even tell me it was a stupid idea.”
But, then again, if they were in my online group, then they already knew I was weird.
And they knew I was easily distracted and slightly messy.
“What else would you know about me?” Oh, they’d know about my dating life, so I wouldn’t have to pretend to have one. “You’ll know about how badly the writing schedule got fucked up.”
But it hadn’t been my fault that Mary had licked me and given me the plague…family was hard but toddlers were off the charts frightening.
And kind of disgusting.
“I’m not seeing any downsides here.” Worst case scenario, he was a stalker and I’d end up dead. “I wouldn’t have to worry about explaining the editing date fuckup to Lori if they killed me.”
Yep, still no downside.
But how to sound reasonable and professional so it didn’t come across like sex work?
Judging by the number of odd responses I’d gotten, I probably needed to be a bit clearer on that. Oh, but how to say I didn’t want sex without actually saying I didn’t want sex just in case they were sexy? What if they were having erotic fantasies about me? I wouldn’t want to destroy their dreams.
I wasn’t sure I was a good enough writer for this assignment.
What had I been thinking?
“I’m sober now. It’ll be fine.” Taking a deep breath, I had another realization. “They’re not going to expect me to make sense. What am I even worrying about?”
They were in my group.
Duh.
All right, step one. “Hit the reply button. Good job.”
I wasn’t sure if I should put it off until I had some sleep, but that sounded like a good way to forget what I’d been going to do in the first place. I should write it down on my to-do list, but I’d misplaced that and since it might be under the pile of mail on my kitchen table, that was a lost cause.
I’d just need to buy a new table at some point.
“Oh, maybe my new helper could look up furniture deals after they find the bottom of the living room?” That was unfortunately taken over by bubble wrap.
Yes, that was a good plan.
“I’m going to make sure they know they’re very necessary and wanted even if they’re as insane as me. But as long as they can clean and remember stuff, I don’t care if they’re more interesting than average.” Yep, the only requirement was that they be less scatterbrained than me.
Or at the very least their distractibility needed to involve cleaning.
“That’s very reasonable.”
But I was still going to keep my fingers crossed just in case.
“Second step, a greeting and sound like I’ve actually slept.”
This project was starting to get more and more difficult.
Yes, I think letting you read the WIP chapters for Teddy’s book would be very reasonable, especially if I don’t have to buy a new kitchen table.
I answered his question.
I explained my trade-off.
Yes, it was a good start.
As you might’ve seen me mention in the group, I’m slightly…well, let’s call it easily distracted by my work and everything it involves, so I would appreciate any help you could offer in housekeeping management.
That was a good way to say finding the bottom of my shit, right?
I am willing to trade ebooks and paperback copies of my backlist, provided you can help me find where I put that box. You know that one I mentioned? It’s still around here somewhere. The mailman assured me I have it.
I was really hoping he was telling the truth, but he looked slightly sketchy.
He kept smiling.
Early work-in-progress chapters are a reasonable request, and when I can find the list of bonus chapters I was going to write, I will let you read those as well.
Yes, that seemed very fair.
If you let me know what other things you’d see as an appropriate trade, I will gladly discuss it with you. I’m sure we could come to a reasonable…there’s a word I can’t remember. I need more sleep. I’m sorry. I know you’ll figure out what I was trying to say. My readers are always very helpful. I’m sure you’ll be the same.
Yes, I had lovely readers.
They were wonderfully helpful when we played the help an author remember the lost word game.
They just escaped so easily.
The words, not my readers—yes, more sleep before I started writing anything else was going to be a good idea.
What had I been doing?
Oh, my reader friend.
Thank you for responding so politely and not asking questions I can’t answer or can’t read. You were either amazingly sober last night or are very articulate while drunk. Either way, I’m impressed and I appreciate your time.
And now to wrap it up.
Why had I been worried about responding?
Please let me know when it would be convenient to meet. I would like to get the details lined up before I forget what we were planning. But you will need to promise Lori that you’re not a stalker or a serial killer. Worriers are hard to deal with, but editors I don’t want to kill are even more difficult to find, so I have to be nice.
Yes, he’d have to agree with me there if he remembered the great what English do they edit in debacle.
Thinking about that still gave me ulcers.
All right, quick sign-off and send.
Now…what had I been doing before Lori called?
Had I been going to find where I’d left my coffee?
