• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Novels and Novellas
  • /
  • Lucille Nailed It Ch. 07

Lucille Nailed It Ch. 07

12

Life had become very busy for Lucille. She pushed hard to ensure the current issue of Fashion Up, the final issue to be published by its founders Cluster Publications Limited, would be judged as having lifted its act several notches.

The previous issue had not had her finger laid on it as it was published just after she arrived, and an editorial announcement was made on the contents page to ensure readers and the trade realized that.

This first ' Lucille Issue' as everyone was calling it, was the issue that would indicate her deep involvement, being reconstructed cover to cover as had been signaled by the example printed and distributed to advertising agencies and advertisers.

The pages from New York were predominantly in one color – red.

Lucille – meeting some resistance – instructed that the cover color be ivory, that the masthead be redesigned with 'Fashion' in 30 point in height in gold, choosing a crocodile skin-like texture and the other part of the name, 'UP' be in 100 point black boldface in capital letters with a gold border of the same texture as 'Fashion' and running the two words together to become FashionUP.

"We're changing the name of the magazine without changing its name," she explained, apparently unconvincingly.

She argued there were women who liked to buy to keep UP with fashion, to read to keep UP with fashion and that drew approving nods.

Lucille choose the most striking photo of a model in red and Angie protested, unsuccessfully, when Lucille instructed that it be clear-cut and centered on the page reduced in size to exactly three inches high and the word 'RED' appear under it in type exactly the same width as the model's feet.

"Readers will have to peer to read the word," Angie complained.

Lucille's response was confusing: "Exactly, although not quite."

Three hours later Angie dropped the cover proof in front of Lucille and as she left the office turned and said, "Brilliant. I missed your point, being unable to see beyond my thought about just how large to make that picture."

The Lucille Issue of the magazine, of course, stood out on news-stands like an objet d'art.

It fired curiosity and most women who picked it up bought the magazine after flicking through a few pages.

The day after publication Mo came running into the editorial room practically out of her tree she was so excited.

"I've been talking to the distribution agents – they're screaming for us to do another press run."

Boyd the contract printer generously allowed that to be done that evening, demanding a margin to slot the rush print ahead of scheduled print jobs.

A party began in the editorial room late of the day of publication, some very happy people gathered around Lucille and Mo. All but two members of the current team that had decided to seek employment elsewhere would relocate to the magazine's new headquarters in Woolloomooloo in two weeks.

Those who would make the move sensed the magazine had commenced its ascendancy.

Boyd the printer arrived with a case of champagne to confirm he thought similarly, and made the toast "To FashionUP which is on a big up."

From the height of that triumph, less than three hours later Lucille tumbled to rock bottom with an intense feeling of boredom.

First Chrissie came to kiss her goodbye with a demure Digger in tow saying they were off to a movie and that triggered an exodus.

Sue the editor of FashionUP lead off a group to begin a bar crawl; Angie the designer went off with one of her boyfriends. The remaining photographer and two sub-editors remaining helped Lucille tidy up before going home to their husbands, leaving Lucille to lock up.

Lucille went off, not quite knowing what to do. She didn't feel like wandering into a lonely apartment and the builders would be working at the warehouse until 9.00 that evening in the race against time and they wouldn't want to be disturbed. Bob had not been in touch and Ashleigh was in Melbourne.

For the first time since being in Australia she had the orphanage feeling of emptiness. This just won't do, she decided, her life is presently running on a single channel. She jumped into a cab and went to the warehouse.

"Oh my," she said to Tony Modotti the commercial renovations specialist who came to meet her. "You've scooted ahead."

"Yep the builder bought in another gang that's waiting for another job to get the green light of approval. I reckon we'll hand this over to you this Thursday."

"Oooh you beautiful man – five days ahead of schedule. What do you do after this?"

"A bit of this, a bit of that. It's rather quiet at the moment for my type of work, approaching the end of the year. We usually go overseas for a month but the missus wants to go later in the year when it's summer in France. Any jobs," he asked sarcastically the grinned.

"I think so."

Tony took a double take. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Yes it means inflating my overdraft substantially but we could develop that unused portion of this building called the roof annex I'd planned to develop after stage two completion of the extensive vaulted film and camera studio. But first I better check that my partner has no objection to me developing the apartment."

She phoned Mo who told her to go right ahead. It was space they had not absorbed into the current development or included in longer term thinking.

"My partner Mo says for me to go ahead; she agrees the company has no use for that orphaned area."

"Yeah," Tony grinned. "It's what we call the wasted space."

"The area is 1500 square feet."

"It's actually 2200 square feet."

Lucille complimented Tony for his attention to detail, making the bearded fit-out contractor/designer beam.

"I want that wasted space converted into an apartment for me and one other, but also with two smallish double guest bedrooms, each with a compact bathroom with shower and a small lounge between them that could also be a TV viewing room. Everything must be designed and fitted out to be easily upgraded when I have the money with provision for a private lift only to that floor, with direct access to the car park."

"Start on the design and approvals whenever you like and have the work take as long as you like – just ensure the workmanship is top-rate."

"Wow that's some project. I'll start on my sketches tonight. I expect no trouble receiving council permission as a residential content is encouraged in this area. The building was constructed to hold dump bales of wool – that's two wool bales compressed together to save on shipping space and weighing anything up to 900 pounds each, and stacked four high on these floors, so you can imagine the loading strength inherent in this building."

"No I haven't a clue," he grinned knowingly.

"The authorities will mainly be interested in design standards, egress – which will mean internal stairs and probably an exterior fire escape – and water supply and sewage and waste water disposal."

"Being an approved contractor I'll get those approvals through very quickly."

Lucille said, "Well, I want a simple uncluttered design with understated elegant fittings – modern European if you know what I mean. The flair will come ultimately from exquisite furnishing and imaginative décor when I can afford it."

She smiled, "Hand the designs to me for approval as fast as you wish and then let's agree on a progressive payment schedule for what we ought to call a well-finished shell of an apartment."

"So this is definite – I begin on it now?"

"I was under the impression I stated that."

"Well I'll get Ollie's spare crew to begin gutting that area as soon as they finish on the warehouse proper. I'll get them to lift the flooring and machine the best side clean and to do the same with the roof sarking. You'll end up living in a palace."

Lucille smiled.

"Between you and me Tony that thought was in my mind. This location is going to be the headquarters for my little empire and I may as well live here."

"I'll have it completed in three months maximum princess."

"Thank you Sir Tony."

Lucille went to a local Italian café, but it was full. "I'm very sorry, Lucille – at least an hour's wait. Even my own reserved table is full with my relatives."

Lucille spotted Bob Song with a woman at a two-seat table; the woman was crying. She must be the mistress receiving the final goodbye. Lucille was aware Bob lived not far from this locality.

"Here is a wine Lucille," Marcello smiled. "Will you wait or may I send food of your choice to your apartment?"

"I'll wait and sing for my supper Marcello. I feel in the mood; please bring me your guitar. I've heard you playing when I've eaten here very late some nights."

"Can you play?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'll set you up at the back of the room and if you play reasonably you may keep going."

"Thank you – please plus in the microphone.

"Do you sing?"

"Yes."

"Well I'll plug in the sound. Do you strip?"

Lucille looked beyond him slyly. "Ghita is standing right behind you."

Startled, Marcello turned and then looked back at Lucille and smiled. "You are one funny lady Lucille."

The room was wide and the bar on the opposite side to where Bob and his companion were sitting. Lucille thought he'd not seen her; he certainly wasn't looking at her. She was about to surprise him, to ensure he remembered who she was.

Marcello settled her on to the tiny stage scarcely large enough to support a drum set and the keyboard player who usually operated from there. Tonight both musicians were recovering from a viral infection.

"Don't announce me – I might be really bad," Lucille said flatly, making Marcello nervous as he had a full restaurant, more people booked and five couples waiting at the bar.

Marcello began backing off looking concerned when he was called by Ghita. Lucille lightly strummed the instrument, adjusting it to suit her.

"Lady, either play it our leave us in peace," a grumpy looking white-hair man with a tobacco-stained off-blond moustache complained.

That's Digger in twenty years – I shall not marry him, thought Lucille. Smiling she asked Grumpy what should she play.

"Preferably something I can't hear."

"Don't listen to him, dear," called the wife/mistress/animal trainer perhaps? "Play me 'What a Friend We Have in Jesus'."

"Maud, for God's sake, don't embarrass me. Play 'La Paloma' please sweetie," Grumpy urged. The other middle-aged couple at the table approved, so lightly fingering she played it through twice.

"I'm telling you it doesn't have words, said Wife/Mistress/Animal Trainer and he snorted, "You bloody know-all, you know nothing."

At that point Lucille had been thinking back to a small café in America – about the same size as the one she was in actually, which is probably why she went to Marcello's, usually on Sunday evenings.

The operators of that other café Maria and Enzio were her first real family since the tragic death of her parents. She'd given herself sexually to Enzio without him asking because of his sacrifice for her...Enzio had given up his gambling with card-playing cronies and used the money available to pay for her singing lessons. Then he found her a guitar teacher and edged up the restaurant prices to pay for those.

Tonight she'd play for Maria and Enzio and their little Lucille named after her and just recently little Rocco had arrived.

Lucille played with passion and her sweet voice bled through the room as she sung that words to the haunting 'La Paloma'.

At one stage she glimpsed Marcello at the kitchen door gazing at her, mouth ajar, and the plump Ghita swing in against him and pull his arms around him: normally those two were either rushing about or shouting at each other, or both.

At the end of that long first bracket, amid applause, Lucille looked to Bob's table but another couple were sitting there; Bob had taken his married mistress home or to near her home, possibly for the last time.

Later when Lucille paused for a break, Grumpy and his wife pulled their chairs apart and invited Lucille to bring her stool over and sit between them.

She didn't hesitate, already aware that a purpose for her being in this place at this time was developing in her mind. It all seemed so wrong but she knew better than to dwell on the invisible wall – a door in it was being opened. It seemed so unlikely, but there it was.

Grumpy, real name Jimmy Gunn, probably James Gunn, filled a water glass that Maud produced with red wine and for Lucille and introduced their friends.

"Jimmy is a little rude, these days, please excuse him," Maud said, rubbing Jimmy's shoulder.

"So you have children trouble or business troubles or both," Lucille laughed, the sparkle in her eyes, the brown honey color of her almost flawless skin and the long sweep of her slender throat as she sipped some wine quite enchanted Jimmy and Maud.

"How did you know?" Maud asked carefully.

"Know what?"

"That our two sons are on the verge of leaving our business because cash flow is drying up."

"I didn't know, it was just one of those things that came to mind and it seemed appropriate to say it."

Without any expression Maud said, "Tell her Jimmy. Something tells me it will be worth it."

"Gosh Maud where you get these thoughts beats me. Okay our young American, stick your nose into this piece of family trouble."

"We have two sons, one couple with two little fellows and the younger couple just pregnant. Almost thirty years ago Maud and I started a curtain-making business in our garage and over the years that undertaking prospered and grew it into our main facility here in Woolloomooloo and a branch to the south and one over the bridge. We were hit by the venetian blind craze, walloped again by the vertical venetians and now hammered by the thin-line venetians."

"The demand for expensive curtains and drapes that we specialize in has fallen right away and folk are buying ready-made cheap curtains to hang over the edges of their venetians.

"What have you done to fight back?"

"Reduced staff, cut factory output and shifted into smaller premises."

"Excuse me, I think you misheard me. I asked what you have done to fight back."

Jimmy looked blank and Maud shrugged, saying there was little they could do.

Lucille asked bluntly did they have cash reserves.

Jimmy bristled but Maud said, "Down, Jimmy. As a matter of fact we do."

"That's great," Lucille beamed. "I'll think about this – Jimmy book a table here for 8:00 this Wednesday for six – that's for me, Maud, you, your two sons and the person in your establishment who has vision, flair and energy and knows your product and systems inside out."

Jimmy looked otherwise engaged, as if trying to calculate the cost of Wednesday's meal.

"We had to let that person go almost a year ago – Irma Rogers, she was our general manager."

"Great Maud – invite her."

"But we no longer employ Irma."

"Don't you think she'd come for a free meal and the chance to meet her old buddies."

"Yes perhaps, but..."

Lucille excused herself, saying she'd better start playing again before she was thrown out for loitering. Settling back into position she called, "Jimmy, I'm picking up the tab Wednesday. I'm expecting to have a long-term business association with your firm but don't ask me what that will be – even I don't know that yet."

* * *

At 7:00 next morning Lucille was just leaving for work when she took a call.

"Hi, it's Bob, Bob Song. I must be quite a stranger but believe me I've never had such a difficult ending to an affair. Talk about removing glue. She caved in finally last night and you and I need to talk soon. I'm off to Wellington, New Zealand, tonight for a three-day conference and how about Saturday at the Hilton for a dinner-dance?"

"Fine and we do need to talk. I'll meet you at the hotel reception area at 9:00."

"I was thinking I'd collect you from your apartment at 8:00?"

"Nine at the hotel would be lovely. Will see you there Bob. I must dash, goodbye."

Lucille's regular morning cab arrived and she went to the office smiling.

Bob now had the message that she had a will of her own and was not just a handy receptacle for his piece of meat. Oooh, you disgusting girl, she thought, checking her make-up in her hand mirror and blowing a kiss at the happy looking image.

She was about to acquire a live-in lover for the first time in her life; she'd turn thirty-one in nine weeks!

* * *

The meal on Wednesday began hesitatingly and the hovering suspicion about Lucille virtually could be cut with a knife. But through sheer personality Lucille rekindled the parents' interest in her and the two sons couldn't keep their eyes off her and were soon won over.

"Here's Irma," Jimmy said, standing up and motioning his sons to stand.

Lucille was initially disappointed – Irma looked fifty but she was well-dressed, very well in fact.

"Ohmigod," Irma said, thrusting a hand over her mouth.

"What?" Jimmy asked, looking at Lucille as if believing a fiendish woman had been exposed.

"Don't you know who she is?"

"Yes, Lucille Lightfoot," Maud said, looking at Jimmy with worry lines appearing.

"How do you do," Irma said, almost bowing as she shook hands with Lucille.

"This is Lucille Lightfoot who's in the process of turning Australian fashion on its head."

The Gunn family looked blank.

"You better translate Irma," said one of the sons.

"Rolf just stay put and hold on to your hair. If Lucille Lightfoot is offering to take your company under her wing as a consultant you'll be on a roller-coaster."

"Is that good?"

"Better than what's happening to the family firm now Maud?"

For the next hour Lucille did most of the talking as the food and wine flowed. The family looked shell-shocked but diminutive Irma was bouncing up and down on her chair like a bunny.

Finally it came time to accept or reject the proposal.

Lucille asked for $28,000 to produce a 12-page color catalogue of Gunn curtains and drapes and that price including its distribution throughout Metropolitan Sydney. It was big price (for those days) and was using an innovative marketing tool still in its infancy.

Neither the parents nor the young son Ryan could stomach the thought of the outlay of so much money.

The family left, Lucille refusing to allow them to pay their share of their meal. She then said something that bewildered them: "It's been worth it; you've brought Irma to me."

After that left Irma said, "Well that's a great idea down the tubes."

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"I've got you."

Irma looked started then giggled.

"Excuse me, I am married."

"When would it be convenient to resign from your present job?"

"I'm not planning to leave but if I were about a fortnight, time for them to get a replacement."

Lucille said she guessed Irma was not happy in her work and was told it was okay, but at least she'd learnt how to shift furniture and some of the tricks and pitfalls of the retail trade.

Irma said she'd never been able to find a niche that excited her and that her mind was filled with ideas but she was unable to find people to take the risks with her.

"Is that what this is about?"

"Yes and it's unusual for me to misfire in the launch of a project. The Gunn's were not the right people but I shall help them, indirectly. Please advise their sons to hold on – the cavalry is coming. Have you any money you could consider investing in a new project?"

"Our retirement savings total almost $75,000."

"Would you be willing to invest that in me, aware that there is some risk?"

"Yes but I'd have to talk to Bert – he's a major contributor to that nest egg."

"Then I shall leave it to you to decide whether you wish to influence him. This is what I propose."

12
  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Novels and Novellas
  • /
  • Lucille Nailed It Ch. 07

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 148 milliseconds