The Randy Romance Novelist

by Meghan Quinn

  “You’re so fucking offensive,” I bowed my head as I spoke, not wanting any of the board of directors to hear me, in case they were walking around. “Can you not be a total douche canoe for at least five minutes?”

  “Not when those fuckable lips are walking around, and I’m not talking about the ones on her face. Boo-ya!” He held up his hand for a high five, but instead, I punched him in the stomach, causing him to bend over. He nodded his head as he held onto his stomach. “All right, I can jump on board with deserving that one.”

  “Glad you realized that.”

  “Anderson, conference room,” Eric called out from across the cube farm.

  “Ooooo, you’re in trouble.”

  “Shut the fuck up, you moron,” I muttered, kicking him in the shin as I stood and buttoned my jacket. I could do this; it was just a female, apparently one with long legs. This job was made for me, I worked my ass off for this job, I fucking deserved this job.

  Once I finished my mental pep talk, I grabbed my leather-bound notepad and walked toward the conference room. From a distance, I saw the back of the girl. She had long brown, almost caramel colored hair, her legs were long like Freddy had pointed out, and yes, she had a bit of a super model body, but honestly, she was nothing compared to Rosie, not even fucking close.

  As I grew closer, I observed the way she flirted with the men board members, touching their arms and leaning in close to talk to them. From behind, there was something familiar about her that I couldn’t place; maybe it was her overcompensating feminine wiles that reminded me of some of the women I used to date.

  Before I entered the conference room, Eric cut off my path and pulled me to the side. Whispering, he said, “Listen to me closely. Do not go in there and suck ass to the board. Be strong, be confident; act like this job is already yours, like you already have an office of glass rather than poorly upholstered cardboard walls. You got it?”

  “You betcha, boss man,” the minute I said it, I heard it. Not the best response.

  “None of that shit in there either.”

  “Yup, that was bad. I’m just a little on edge. I got this, though.”

  “Eric, Henry, come in,” Darlene said, motioning us in the room to join everyone.

  I straightened my tie and followed Eric into the room, shutting the glass door behind me. The conference room had a long, oak table running the length with brown leather upholstered office chairs lining the perimeter. There was a large TV on one side for video calls and a white board on the other side, which was never used anymore due to the use of technology now, and the fact that Eric was the guy who loved drawing ideas on the glass walls. He always liked to point out if Google could do it, then so could we.

  To my left was the president of the board, Darlene, and the vice president, Danielle. To my right stood the new hire and three of the other board members, all men, of course. I had my work cut out for me.

  “Henry, it’s good to see you,” Darlene held out her hand.

  “Darlene, always a pleasure. How are the twins? Still playing soccer?”

  “Are they always. I need to start investing in some stock of Tide Stain Remover because the amount of grass stains I have to battle every night is overwhelming.”

  “I can’t imagine,” I chuckle and shake my head. Yes, I’m good at this. “At least they’re still focused on sports and not girls. Be grateful for that.”

  Darlene laughed and shook her finger. “Such a smart man.” She then turned to Danielle and said, “Danielle, you remember Henry, right? Eric’s right hand man.”

  “Yes, Henry, how are you?”

  “I’m great, Danielle. Thank you for asking. Last time we spoke, you were headed to Europe for a backpacking trip. Please tell me you made it to Greece.”

  “It was incredibly hard to return. If it wasn’t for my husband, I would still be out there feasting on baklava and soaking up the sun.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I replied. “Greece is on my bucket list. I’ll make it there one day.”

  Darlene pointed behind me and said, “Henry, you remember Dale, Walter, and Steve.”

  “I do,” I answered, turning around to shake their hands and start up some more small talk, but the minute I turned around, my breath was completely knocked out of me by the new hire.

  Not because she was pretty.

  Not because she was smiling brightly at me.

  But because . . .

  “And, Henry, this is Tasha, our new hire.”

  “Henry!” Tasha smiled brightly, reaching for my hand and pulling me in for a hug. “What’s it been, two months since we last saw each other? How’s the new apartment?”

  Tasha, the girl I dated in college; the girl I called on when Rosie broke my heart the minute after we had sex for the first time. Tasha, the girl who shattered Rosie’s beautiful soul to pieces, leaving them scattered across the apartment we used to share with Delaney.

  That Tasha.

  “Um, apartment is good,” I answered, bewildered, caught off guard . . . royally and utterly fucked.

  “Great to hear. Gosh, I totally forgot that you worked at this firm. What a coincidence.”

  By the look in her eyes, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence; I was damn near confident this wasn’t a coincidence. This was revenge at its finest, a battle of retribution, and from the way she quirked her lip to the side, I knew it was going to be a blood bath.

  “Yeah, ever since I graduated. Bentley Agency has been really good to me.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad I can be a part of the team.”

  “So, you know each other?” Darlene asked.

  I went to answer, but Tasha answered before I could. “We dated in college for a little bit and talked about moving in with each other a little while ago, but then he dumped me for his roommate. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

  Let the battle begin.

  Adjusting my tie, since it felt like it was closing in on my throat, I answered honestly, “I was in love with someone else, and I didn’t handle it properly. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Everyone stood in silence as our dirty laundry was aired for everyone to see. That last thing I wanted to do was talk about the downfall of the pitiful relationship we used to have, a relationship not even worthy of talking about.

  This was awkward.

  Awkward as fuck.

  More awkward than if Freddy really did send Tasha his cock-mail. I would pretty much pay him anything right about now to make a speedy delivery.

  Darlene cut the tension. “Well, good thing we hired you for your professional experience and your ability to sell any product that comes your way rather than for your mistrials in your personal life.”

  “Yes, if that was the case, Freddy would have been fired the first day on the job,” Danielle added. “But that boy is good at what he does. Such an odd bird, that one.”

  Everyone but Tasha laughed. Thank God for Freddy being an idiot.

  “Now that we all know each other, let’s get down to business. Shall we take our seats?”

  Listening to Darlene, the group sat down. I made sure to stay as far away from Tasha as possible, avoiding all eye contact as well. The more I mentally denied what was happening, the more I avoided melting into a pool of my own sweat. I knew Tasha; she could be ruthless when it came to what she wanted. I had no doubt in my mind the claws were coming out for this.

  Walter passed around folders with Legacy’s label pressed on the front of them. The folder was on the higher end and I made a note of it. This was just a simple folder, but if Legacy took pride in small items like folders, then they would want the same representation for their product. Flipping to the first page, I took in the table of contents and let out a deep sigh. This was going to be one long meeting.

  “The Legacy account, home of condoms, lubes, and a small department of vibrators,” Darlene started, a presentation popping up on the TV. “This is the biggest account out on the market right now, and we are going to make sure Bentley
Agency wins the bid. They are looking for some fresh new branding, something to make them pop on the shelves. They want to cater toward men, but also women, while using the power of social media, something they’ve never done before. That’s why we brought in Tasha. We feel she can give us a perspective on the product that we might not have thought of before.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. Darlene should have just said, Tasha has used a lot of condoms in her life and can give us great knowledge on what they feel like for women. She was a little loose in college; she should be able to offer an in-depth perspective on condom usage.

  “We have a month to come up with fresh and innovative ideas. This is an account that we will win; do not let me down. Danielle, go through the details for us.”

  Danielle went over Legacy’s sales figures, their current branding, their social media and advertising, as well as their presence in the market. They weren’t catering to the young crowd, something I knew I could assist with, and they weren’t catering to women either, something I knew I could help them improve as well, despite the penis that resided in my pants. I just had to make sure I came up with a better idea than Tasha.

  Fuck, Tasha.

  Could this nightmare get any worse?

  It could, actually . . . if Rosie found out.

  Chapter Five

  Moist

  ROSIE

  “Delaney, can I ask you a question?”

  “Always,” she said, over the phone.

  I was lying across the couch, twirling the water sprayer in my hand, pointing it at Sir Licks-a-Lot- occasionally, just daring him to do something wrong while I talked to Delaney on the phone.

  Working from home was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, besides Henry of course. I was able to get my actual work done in the morning, so I was able to spend the rest of the afternoon, when I was battling demon cat, baking cookies, moving furniture around so it was more functional for the space we were living in, and even painting my toenails. I’d just finished, that was why I still had cotton balls smashed between my toesies and the reason why Sir Licks-a-Lot was eyeing my foot, as if he was a child staring at a decorated foot of cotton candy.

  Casually, I asked Delaney, “You’ve had lots of sex, right?”

  “How is that a question? You know the answer to that.” The preposterous tone in her voice made me giggle. Yup, I knew in great detail how much sex she’d had.

  Sharing a dorm room and an apartment with the girl since college had well educated me on the amount of sex she had, especially with Derk. I just needed a segue into my actual question. I might not be a virgin anymore, but I was still very shy when it came to talking about private parts and whatnot. That’s why we called them private parts, because our parts were supposed to remain private. At least that’s what my mother told me.

  “I mean, do you have a lot of sex, like . . . during the day?”

  “When I’m at work, I don’t typically fuck under my desk, but when I get home, yeah. What are you getting at?”

  I cleared my throat, trying to get the words out, but all it did was draw Sir Licks-a-Lot’s attention back to my foot. If he clawed my toe again, he would be making a new friend called, The Fire Escape, because that’s where he would be living from now on. He was the master clawer of toes in the middle of the night to unsuspecting dreaming angels, aka, myself. If one single piggy made it outside of the blankets, he knew about it, and he reminded you who the toe master was. The worst part was, he knew what he was doing because last night, when he got my pinky, I yelped and looked down at him, only to see him smiling that toothy white grin of his.

  Bastard!

  Turning back to the conversation, I said, “Lately, Henry and I have been having a lot of the sex.”

  “It’s just sex, Rosie. You don’t have to put a ‘the’ in the front of it. But yes, you two have been going at it like porn stars on their first shoot. Animals! Grrrawwwlll.”

  “Ew, stop, stop that now.” I shuddered just thinking of Henry and me as porn stars. “Please don’t refer to us as porn stars. Yes, do I make him have sex with me in different positions for my book? Of course . . .”

  “How’s that coming, by the way?” Delaney asked, interrupting me.

  “The book?”

  “No, your pussy. Of course the book!” Delaney answered, exasperated with me.

  “It’s doing well. The love story is coming along nicely, but I think it needs more. It needs more of a niche; you know?”

  “I don’t know, actually, but let’s not get into that, back to lots of sex.”

  And that was that. Delaney loved talking to me about the sex scenes in my book, but when I started to discuss the plot, or the antagonist, she immediately clammed up and changed the subject. She said she had no interest in plotting with me, and she meant that with love. What I really needed was a writing group, a place I could go and discuss my ideas and struggles when it came to writing; they would understand me. I made a mental note to look one up in the city; there had to be some kind of romance writing group in this giant urban jungle.

  “Okay, um, so we’ve been doing it a lot, and it’s been amazing. I mean, he stuck his fingers inside me this morning—”

  “Nope, no, no, no, no. We are not going into details. I love you, Rosie, but you and Henry are like siblings to me; I don’t want to know about fingers going up anyone. Gah, gross. He knows he has a dick, right, and that he can use it on you?”

  “It was foreplay. He was getting me all . . . juicy.”

  “Again, no. Do not say juicy,” Delaney chastised.

  “Moist?”

  Delaney made a disgusted noise on the other side of the phone. “Rosie! Have you not learned one thing from all those groups we participate in on Facebook?”

  In my pursuit of being an author, I decided to join some book groups on Facebook; my goodness, did they liked posting penis pictures. Delaney joined to “help me” after she saw me scrolling through my newsfeed and saw a butt shot of Stuart Reardon. Such a horn dog. But, in all honesty, I couldn’t blame her; Stu has a nice tush. Oh and that Franggy, man does he have a beard some ladies would like to sit on. Now she was a part of all the same groups. It led to great conversations, but they mostly revolved around the uncircumcised dick she saw that morning. I was privileged to hear her talk about wanting to have sex with one just once, so she could give it a test run. Like we always say, it’s for science!

  Referring back to her question about what I had been educated on in those groups, I answered, “I’ve learned that penises come in all shapes and sizes and that the majority of the female population likes a good tattoo and appreciates a bad boy.”

  “They also hate the word moist, Rosie! It makes them cringe, it makes them want to pick up their first born child and sell them on the sidewalk for five dollars or best offer, just to buy a razor blade so they can slice their ears off. Don’t you remember that one post about words not to use…”

  “Umm…” I paused trying to reflect back.

  “It’s that author you stalk, she asked readers to list their most hated words to be used in books, and do you know what the number one word was?”

  “Anal seepage?

  “Fuck you! No, you’re disgusting. Jesus, Rosie. It was moist!! They hate the word, moist!”

  “What’s so wrong with it? They also hate the word panties, but what else are we supposed to call them? Underwear? That doesn’t seem very sexy. Unless every character for the rest of their lives wears thongs, you have to call them something else. So what is it? Underwear or panties?”

  “I can’t even handle you right now,” Delaney said, deflated.

  “And what’s wrong with saying the word lady folds? I mean, that’s what they are. They are folds of skin on a lady’s body. Lady folds is way less vulgar than the P word. And I really don’t think I’m ready to use the term ‘sex’ to describe Virginia. Oh, and that’s another thing, apparently naming your private part isn’t wildly accepted either. What’s a writer
to do?”

  Delaney took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know, Rosie. Maybe ask your stalkee. Maybe she will take a break from her meerkat turkey basting and answer your questions.”

  “Hmm, that’s a good idea. I think I just might.”

  Questions ran through my mind about the proper terms for vagina and how I could address them to Tara, when Delaney interrupted my thoughts. “Are you going to ask me your question?”

  Completely forgetting about my question, I tried to remember what I was going to say, where this conversation was leading. “Oh, yeah, so lots of sex. I know there are such things as yeast and bladder infections, but those are more of an itch to the vag more than anything, right?”

  “Umm, is this a question for your gyno?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t want to go there again, not for another year. Last time I went, I saw hot man doctor, and this was before the red brick road incident. He said . . .” I cleared my throat from embarrassment. “He said he had to part my hair to get a good look.”

  Silence.

  Then, “I’m about one sentence away from hanging up this phone on you.”

  “I’m sorry!” I said quickly. “Yeast infections are itchy and bladder infections make it feel like you have to pee all the time, kind of a burning sensation, right?”

  “Right,” she drawled out.

  “So what is it when your lady part feels heavy?”

  More silence.

  Too much silence.

  Silence like she was no longer on the phone anymore kind of silence.

  “Hello? Delaney? Are you still there?”

  “I don’t—” Delaney started, but then stopped. “What do you mean by heavy?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Just heavy. Like, your vagina is carrying around twenty pound weights and really struggling to hold them up. Heavy to the point that you feel like it’s really hanging low. Like, if something brushed up against my ankle, I wouldn’t even give it a second thought if I saw Virginia waving at me from down below.”