The Adventures of April

Publishing my first book was supposed to be a memorable moment and an attempt to truly leave my mark in this lifetime. As a retired party girl, who’s not always made the best choices in life, I decided to share my experiences with the world. I would write about all my screw ups and what I learned from them in my own hilariously witty twist. Completely naïve to the process I googled How do I get published? Almost immediately I was bombarded with ads for sites offering free consultations. There was one company whose name really stood out to me.

Green Ivy Publishing was based out of Chicago and considered an up and coming start up publishing company for new writers. Offering its top tier service for the small fee of $3,500. One thing I did know about publishing was that it’s a rare occasion that someone gets offered a deal with an advance on their first book. It was almost like asking the universe for a kidney. Despite the split reviews on the company, I decided to give it a shot. Asking questions was the only way to see if this was the opportunity I was looking for. I submitted my information along with the first chapter of my book. The very next day I received a phone call from a strange number. Assuming it was a creditor or scammer I chose to let it ring and continued about my business. To my surprise, the number left a message. The person introduced themselves as Bray Caliendo. When returned the call, He said he had read my chapter and continued asking questions about my book. I was given amazing feedback as he laughed at a one liner I cracked in the third paragraph. The feeling that it was all finally happening came over me like the Texas sun in a field of bluebonnets on the first day of spring.

Then he said it, those five little words I had been dying to hear. I’m sending over a contract now. It took every essence of my being to remain nonchalant. Naturally, my first impulse was to call my mom. She couldn’t believe the news. Once I told her about the fee my excitement was put on hold. April, you’re in school living paycheck to paycheck, are you sure this is an actual company? Make sure you do your research before signing anything or making a payment.

She was right. She also saw it as a great opportunity and offered to give me the money. The spoiled, only child in me wanted to take it, but I knew that this was something I had to do on my own. The contract was simple and straight to the point. It sold the dream when it mentioned all the sites it would be published on. The next morning I went for it. I called Bray and said yes. I was offered a discount if I paid in full, but I could barely afford the first payment. I signed a contract and gave my word that I would finish the book in a month or so and would be ready for editing. I wanted to tell the world, but something told me to keep it to myself for a little while longer.

It was an unrealistic expectation to assume that I would have 12 chapters done in a month when I could barely handle my full-time bartending job and five college courses. Still, I tried any chance I got to jot down any story I thought would be fun to tell. It became too much. The stress with school, bills and everything in between became overwhelming and was all I would think about. If dealing with writers’ block wasn’t enough, the development of imposter syndrome set in. Who did I think I was? Why did I think I could do this? A month or so had turned into 4 and I was still making payments for a book package that I didn’t have a book for. After getting fired from another job with no luck of finding another, I had to make calls to Bray whenever I was going to be late on a payment. He seemed ok with it at first, but his demeanor slowly changed. I could hear it in his voice that he was annoyed with the situation ,as if he were questioning why he offered me a contract to begin with. The date of my last payment was almost 6 months later, and I still hadn’t finished my book. In the meantime, I did the fun stuff like submit author photos and cover concepts. One afternoon, I received an email asking when I would be finished. I panicked. I immediately went to work organizing all the short stories I had been writing and tried to put the pieces together. When I was finally ready to submit, I said one last prayer and hoped for the best. A response never came.

When a week had passed, I assumed it was still being read and possibly critiqued. At two weeks, I decided to give Bray a call but got his voicemail. A couple of emails later I decided to call the actual company number instead of his direct line. The assistant that answered giggled when I asked for him and said he had gone off to Los Angeles to try his luck as an actor. I found it odd that he would leave without even a single email notifying me who would be taking over my files. Yet the woman assured me that I would be contacted by another coach. The new coach never showed and the turnaround time for emails and messages seemed to be spaced further apart.

Completely fearful that I had been taken advantage of, I decided to call Brays direct line just one more time. Ironically, he answered. Surprised to hear his voice, I congratulated him on scoring an audition. But the tone of his voice suggested that things didn't go as well as he planned. He mentioned that he had already sent my book to an editor and it would be a couple of weeks to get it back. I waited patiently to the point where I almost had forgotten that I had been waiting so long to hear from Green Ivy Publishing. Forgetting where I placed my planner with the number scribbled inside, I decided to look up the website instead, but it was gone. The webpage was no longer to be found and once I did manage to find the number all lines had been disconnected. Finally I decided to share the news with someone. I reached out to an old friend and told her the entire story. She immediately went to work on investigating for any reported claims against the company. There it was, almost an entire year of lies exposed. I had never felt so defeated. Since the company never published the book anywhere, the only thing I was out was $3,500.

Vanity publishing is a hemorrhoid on the ass of the writing community. What makes someone wake up one day and just decide to make up a completely fake company for the sole purpose of crushing dreams and bleeding dry wallets? I had no idea what I was going to do. Me and my big mouth had already jumped the gun and posted it on social media for likes and the dopamine rush. I was so embarrassed. Later that night I decided to get on my knees and pray. Something I hadn’t done in years. The next morning, I woke up to an email from a company in Austin, Texas. Next Century Publishing had just opened a branch in the city and was looking for new talent. I called the number and was immediately greeted by a writing coach who was ready to make their big sales pitch. It was like déjà vu. Another pipe dream coming from another energy vampire in a meat suit. I shared my misfortune and the experience I had with Green Ivy and was offered a sympathetic ear. The difference was, the office was literally fifteen minutes from my apartment. Going by to see if this place exists would not be a problem. I did. I drove to the address listed on the website and to my surprise turned out to be real.

I quietly peeped into the building and looked for the company’s floor before decided to take a quick stroll. I was dumbfounded when I saw production equipment and a spot for interviews decorated with a large bookcase and oversized armchairs. I felt excited again. Maybe this time the dream could be real. Although this time, I would be smart about it. I quietly skipped towards the elevator but not before grabbing some fun size candy off of their employee snack table. During my next contact with Next Century I asked to see the contract before deciding whether I wanted to send a writing sample or not. They let it be known that the request was not their usual protocol, but after expressing my concerns due to the lingering trauma of the last incident with Green Ivy, they agreed.

I decided to sign with the condition that I own all rights and files to my book. They agreed. I worked two jobs to pay off this deal. Five hundred dollars less than the last deal and located in-town felt like the calculated risk I should have started with. Six months later my first book was officially published on most major book sites. I was ecstatic. Things were going great. I received my first royalty check for two hundred and seventy-five dollars just five months after my launch date. Excited to send a Thank you, I quickly pulled out my laptop to prepare to send an email of gratitude but received a much more horrifying reply. An auto response was sent that read the publishing company had closed and no royalties would be paid. The email assured us that all files to our books would be sent to us. It never came. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I decided that I would drive down there in person to get the answers I was needing to keep my sanity. I arrived only to see a chained off parking lot and not a single vehicle in sight. I parked my car on the curb and walked up to the front door. An ominous feeling took over me. I took the elevator down to the company floor and found it completely empty. The only thing remaining was a poster cut out of the CEO.

Len Dung was a weasel of a man. I never got good vibes from his social media lives. It was almost like he was trying too hard to become a famous author himself. Accepting defeat, I made my way toward the elevator and saw a glittery flash reflecting off what looked like a small box. As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t a box at all but a little black book. To whom it belonged to, became crystal clear when I turned it over. The initials LD were etched in gold foil. Thank you, universe! On the way home I kept putting together ideas as to the type of people LD would keep in his little black book. I couldn’t wait to get home and troll myself to sleep. Opening the book took me down a wormhole of trying to find as much info as I could. Using any resource on the internet to locate some of these people, I went to work for hours at a time searching each name.

The A’s were a disappointment. Oh except for Aubrey. If her photos are real, she did not have A’s. As soon as I decided to flip the page the initials BC piqued my interest. Who was BC and why was his contact the only one without a full name? When I dialed the number, my heart sunk to the pit of my stomach. It turns out I already knew this contact. It brought up a saved contact for Bray Caliendo’s direct line. What fresh hell is this? There was an address also written in the contact box for somewhere in Las Vegas with a date and time. Realizing that the date was tomorrow, and the time was 10pm I decided to swipe a credit card for the cheapest flight I could find to investigate this meeting.

Getting on the plane the next morning I felt like Nancy Drew. Once arriving in Las Vegas, I asked my driver to take me to the address I found in the little black book. Next thing I know we were pulling up to the Bellagio. Pleased by my destination I decided to go ahead and book a night there so I could try to find LD and BC’s meeting spot. But they found me. Parked behind my car was another driver who seemed to have someone important in the back. He immediately jumped out of the car to run around to open the door. I had to do a double take. I could smell the Dung as he got out of his car. Literally, he wreaked of an over spritz of bathroom cologne. I walked closely behind him and waited patiently in line until it was my turn. As Dung checked in, he mentioned meeting a friend at the roulette table at 10pm. Bingo. As I took my room keys I walked off confidently seeing as he had no idea who I was.

I hadn’t been to Vegas since a friend’s wedding. I decided I would dress up and play the part. All work and no play were not in the cards for me tonight. Having no idea what I was going to use to bet, I decided I would show up and look cute in hopes someone would throw me a chip for luck. The only dress I could grab at a moment’s notice was a green strapless number I wore one time ten years ago. Surprisingly It fit. But the matter of the green to go with the green dress was still up in the air. I grabbed the little black book off the nightstand and flipped through the pages hoping to find another piece of the puzzle but no dice. I grabbed my clutch and headed towards the elevator.

I eventually did the unthinkable. I walked up to the first ATM in sight and emptied out the last of my savings from my checking account. I slid the cash towards the dealer to exchange for chips while taking a seat in one fluid motion hoping they’d catch me out of the corners of their eye. They both sat there looking smug, sipping scotch and whispering to each other. LD immediately turned and gave me a wink and a grin. He slid over to the next seat and snapped at the waiter. After offering me a drink he pulled a 20,000-dollar chip from his pocket and asked me to blow on it. For luck, because that green dress makes you look like a million bucks’ doll. Just as I was about to pucker up, two pit bosses showed up and grabbed the twosome out of their stools sending the chip flying out of his hand. I watched it land face up right in between my feet. I ducked down to pick it up and booked it towards the elevator. I may not have gotten the answers I wanted or the Kill Bill fight scene. I got more! It was more than my money back and enough evidence to get my files back. At that moment my agenda was an after school special compared to whatever it was those two were about to get served.

As for that little black book, I figured I’d hold on to it a little while longer. You never know when it may come in handy. I found some numbers and another address. Maybe it’s the combination to a locker filled with money down in a subway somewhere! Another trip, another time. After cashing in the chip, I took the next flight home. I felt better. The sudden realization that I accomplished a goal and still made money gave me a feeling of peace coming full circle.