by Meghan Quinn
After reviewing the mock-ups, I knew this was going to be a winner, no doubt about it. I just had to hang on a few more days.
Luckily, Freddy was able to get a scoop on what Tasha had been working on. I gave the guy a high five about lifting over three hundred pounds, and he was so excited he offered to scope out the competition by using his “sex appeal.” I didn’t oppose, and for some odd reason, it worked. Freddy was able to woo Tasha enough to check out what she had been working on. She was doing a joint campaign based around lovemaking. It was cute and fresh, but it wasn’t Legacy.
“You ready for the party tomorrow? For the grand reveal of both campaigns?” Eric asked, as I started to gather my phone and wallet so I could take off.
“I am. Mock-ups are done and being held by the design team. I feel really confident.”
“Good,” Eric nodded. He leaned up against my cube with his arms crossed. “You’ve been putting in a lot of time at the office lately. Is everything okay at home?”
He was staring at the picture I had of Rosie on my desk. I glanced at it and inwardly smiled. She was my entire life, her and the little one growing inside of her.
“Everything is great. Just wanted to make sure I nailed this campaign. I want this job so damn bad.”
“You deserve it. You’ve really shown some impressive work, not just on rebranding, but on your marketing plan and attacking social media. I’m impressed, Henry. I truly am.”
“Thanks, Eric.” I stood from my chair and grabbed my bag. “If you will excuse me for the night, I have a girlfriend to get home to.”
Sweeping his arm out for me leave, he said, “Enjoy. I’ll see you tomorrow for the party. You’re bringing Rosie?”
“Most definitely, but if you don’t mind, can we keep this whole possible promotion to ourselves? I don’t want her getting excited in case it doesn’t work out.”
“Not a problem.”
We shook hands, which was odd because we never really did that, and then I took off toward the elevator. It was seven already, and I knew Rosie was freaking out about the bachelorette party and being ready for it. I called the other day to cash in a favor on a local bar I knew would be perfect for the party and was able to book a private room for the girls. Rosie was grateful. From the list Delaney had, I knew Rosie was still behind, but I had confidence she would be able to take care of everything.
The elevator opened, greeting me to begin my descent down to the streets of New York. I pressed the ground level button and watched the doors close, just as Tasha stuck her hand in to stop the elevator. The doors opened back up and she walked in, brushing off her skirt and eyeing me.
“You could have held the elevator.”
“Didn’t know you were coming.”
Turning toward me, she gave me a suggestive look. “Oh, you always knew when I was coming.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Tasha. Give it a rest. I’m happy, more than happy, I’m completely overjoyed by the fact that I am with Rosie. Nothing is going to change, so get that through your head.”
“You’re full of yourself. I was just joking, Henry. Are you bringing her tomorrow?”
Wishing the elevator would hurry the eff up, I answered impatiently. “Yes.”
“Wonderful, I can’t wait to catch up with her.”
There would be none of that. The last thing I needed was for Tasha to start talking to Rosie at the party. Not that I was hiding anything, because I wasn’t, I just didn’t trust Tasha. Knowing her, she would say some bullshit lie about us spending almost every night together working, when in fact, I didn’t even talk to the wench.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t talk to her . . . or me.”
“And why is that, Henry? Because you’re afraid she’ll see the way you look at me?”
“The way I look at you? And how would that be? Because all I see is a gold-digging slut-bag willing to flirt with anyone to get ahead. Don’t think I don’t see the way you talk to Eric and the male board members. Unfortunately for you, Tasha, this company was built on hard work ethic and innovative ideas, not how many times you can show your cleavage in one passing.”
That felt good. The bitch had been getting on my nerves ever since she stepped foot in the building.
She folded her arms over her chest, displaying her breasts once again; luckily for me, she didn’t affect me with her feminine wiles. “You really think you’ve won this account, don’t you?”
“Based on what I’ve heard about your campaign, uh . . . yeah.”
She laughed just as we hit the ground floor and the elevator doors opened. “You’re so naïve, Henry. While you’ve been working in your little cubicle, staring at your annoyingly adorable picture of Rosie, and talking to douche bag Freddy, I’ve been hosting lunches with all the Legacy executives. It’s not always about the campaign, but about who will lead the campaign and who meshes well with the customer.” She pressed my chest with her nail and then took off. “See you tomorrow, Henry. Can’t wait for you to meet some of my friends over at Legacy.” She walked backward while she continued to talk. “Oh, and if you change your mind on our relationship, let me know, maybe I can convince the board to throw you a bone, and you can be my assistant.”
A devious smile was plastered on her face as she walked out of the building.
Mother Fucker!
I ran my hand over my face, feeling like the wind was just knocked out of me. I tried to tell myself not to let her get in my head, that she was just throwing me off my game—job well done.
She had nothing. Her campaign wasn’t nearly as clean cut and refined as mine. I had statistics to back up my presentation; I had proof in the pudding that my campaign was the clear-cut choice.
But there was that annoying voice in the back of my head, that voice of self-doubt that told me maybe I didn’t have it all figured out. Maybe the past month had been a waste of time, spending long nights at the office when I could have been wining and dining the clients.
Shit.
I never thought about a working relationship with them. I just assumed I was a likeable human who could get along with any client, a little self-absorbed, yes, but I hadn’t had any complaints yet.
Work weighed heavily on me as I faltered in the entryway of my office building. I looked over at the elevators and contemplated going back up to my cube to double-check everything. Even though the thought of going back up to my cube crossed my mind, I knew it was useless. Tomorrow was the reveal; there was nothing else I could do. The decision was in the board’s and Legacy’s hands now.
I just hoped I didn’t focus on the wrong thing this go around.
The walk home was lonely. I kept kicking myself in the ass for not thinking about meeting with the clients more. What the hell was I thinking?
Clearly, I wasn’t. I was off my game, and there was only one reason why: Rosie.
She changed me, she helped me relax, she allowed me to love so deeply, I got lost in the world we were living in. There was no doubt in my mind I had been distracted, especially by the sex.
Sex, fuck did I miss it.
I missed getting lost in Rosie’s scent, in her touch, in the sexy little sound she made when she came.
I wasn’t ready to have sex with her until she saw a doctor, though. I didn’t want to chance anything. I just needed this whole campaign to be over so I could put my sole focus into my girl. One more fucking day and then this would be all over.
***
“Drop it. I’m not kidding,” Rosie shouted, just as I walked in the apartment.
She was holding a rolling pin in one hand, making whacking gestures, and a colander in the other. She was wearing one of my T-shirts and her hair looked like it shook strands with an electrical outlet. Her bare feet bounced up and down on the hardwood floor while she made scooping motions with the colander.
“You little spikey-dicked bastard. Give me the penis crown and I won’t have to try to strain you through this colander.”
“What’s
going on, love?” I asked, shutting the door and startling her.
She clenched her behind from the sound of the door closing and then turned in my direction. She had mascara dripping down her cheeks and her eyes were beet red. My heart sunk to dramatic depths.
“What’s going on?” she screamed, waving the rolling pin in the air. “What’s going on is that hairy monster over there won’t give me the penis crown. He thinks he won it during our test drive of pin the penis on Derk, but I tried to tell him there was no crown prize. He begs to differ. Now he’s just rubbing his win in my face by parading around with it. How could I lose to a cat? I should know where a penis goes.”
Confused, I looked over at the wall to see a life-size picture of Derk hung up by tacks. There was a scratch mark where Derk’s crotch was—my guess was that was Sir Licks-a-Lot’s placement, and then there was a cut out penis stuck near Derk’s nipple.
“Don’t judge me. I spun around too many times. Maybe if we actually had sex every once in a while, I might know where a penis actually goes. This is all your fault.” She pointed the rolling pin at me. “If you actually drained your vein in me . . .”
“Don’t say that.” I shook my head.
“Oh, was that too crude for you?” She was certifiable right now. I reminded myself of why she was losing it. She was stressed from the party; she was most likely horny . . . she was pregnant.
She was pregnant, she was pregnant, she was pregnant.
Instead of arguing with her, I set my bag and suit jacket down and walked carefully over to Sir Licks-a-Lot, who started purring at my approach. He leapt up into the air, penis crown still in his mouth, and landed in my arms. I took the crown from him and allowed him to rub his head against my five o’clock shadow. I glanced over at Rosie, who had her mouth wide open in a look of complete disbelief.
She crossed her hands over her chest and started tapping her toe on the ground. “Oh, so you’re making out with the cat now? Fantastic!”
Kitchen utensils flew in the air as she tossed her weapons to the side and sat down on the floor next to a pile of penis paraphernalia. Mumbles of discontent flew from her as bags were aggressively stuffed with bachelorette party items.
Secretly, I gave Sir Licks-a-Lot a quick pet; didn’t want to be caught fraternizing with the enemy, and then set him down before slowly walking toward the ball of rage stewing on the apartment floor.
Ever so carefully, I knelt down next to her and placed my hand on her leg. The minute our skin made contact, her head snapped in my direction, and I swear to all that is holy, she developed fangs and growled at me.
Startled, I backed off and sat there, watching her practically ripping each bag while she stuffed them in indignation.
“Can I help you with anything?” I asked, ready to be yelled at.
“Oh, you want to help now? How convenient!”
Deep breaths, I kept telling myself.
“Rosie, I’m sorry I’m late, and I’m sorry that Sir Licks-a-Lot beat you at pin the penis; he’s a tough competitor. He was at more of an eye level with the crotch . . . it was easier for him.”
The destructive stuffing slowed down as I spoke.
“If it helps, I think he cheated. Did you even see if he closed his eyes?”
Rosie pondered my question for a second while tapping her chin with her index finger. “I didn’t get a good look. I was so fascinated with his paw going straight for the crotch.” Rosie slammed the bags on the ground and pointed her finger at Sir Licks-a-Lot, who was mid-tongue-to-balls. “Rematch!”
Before I could say one word, Rosie jumped off the ground, yanked her pinned nipple penis off the wall and said, “Get over here, ball licker. We are going to have a rematch, and guess what? Henry is going to judge and make sure you follow the rules this time.” She glanced over at me and said, “What are you waiting for; come spin me.”
Honestly, was this normal pregnant behavior? If so, I feared for all men around the country. Right now, I had a tense and angry girlfriend, waiting to pin a penis to a wall and challenging a cat to a contest only a human could really win—but somehow she lost.
Even though the situation was completely nuts, I played along. I didn’t want any more anger directed at me. So, I grabbed Sir Licks-a-Lot and held him while I spoke of the penis pinning rules.
“All right, each contestant will get spun five times; eyes must be closed, and there will be no feeling around allowed. Where your hand/paw lands on the wall is where you place your penis. Understood?”
Rosie nodded and rubbed her hands together, while cracking her neck to the side. Sir Licks-a-Lot licked his paw and brushed his head. I took that as he understood.
“There will be one round, final death. Whoever pins the penis closest to Derk’s crotch wins . . .” Not sure what the prize was, I leaned to whisper to Rosie. “What are the stakes?”
She raised her fist in the air and said, “Penis pinning rights.”
“Oh, of course.” I cleared my throat. “Whoever is closest to the crotch wins penis pinning rights of the apartment. Contestants, please shake on the terms.”
Rosie turned up her nose at the idea, but reluctantly grabbed Sir Licks-a-Lot’s paw and shook it.
“His foot is soft, like a creepily padded pillow,” she observed before pulling away and putting her game face on. “And with that, you’re going down, you ginger puss!”
I shook my head at the ridiculousness. “Who’s going to go first?”
“I will.” Rosie raised her hand and shut her eyes, ready to be spun.
I set the cat down, who went back to licking himself, and gripped Rosie’s shoulders. I pressed a light kiss against her cheek to sweeten her up and whispered in her ear, “You got this, love. No competition.”
“Spin me,” she proclaimed.
I did just that. I carefully spun her, making sure not to make her nauseous. The last thing I needed was Rosie puking everywhere and then crying the rest of the night about it.
After five counts of very steady spinning, I pointed her directly in front of the blow up picture of Derk, so she couldn’t miss. The minute I let go, her hand sprung forward and placed the dick right near Derk’s belly button. Pretty damn close.
She instantly opened her eyes and started cheering for herself. “Ha! Eat that, you four-legged freak!” She moon-walked right into the wall behind her, stumbling once she made contact.
I reached out to steady her, my heart pounding at a faster rate from her almost falling over. “You have to be careful, Rosie.” I held my chest as I held onto her. “You can’t be bumping into things and falling over.”
She gave me a questioning look. “You’re being weird. Get the cat up here; it’s his turn, and if I try to grab him he’ll scratch off my face.”
I gave her one more once over, observing her stance. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” she sounded annoyed. “I bumped into a wall; I didn’t fall into an abyss. Now, let’s get this competition going. Stop stalling.”
“Okay.” Like the dutiful boyfriend I was, I picked up Sir Licks-a-Lot and placed him in front of blowup Derk. I had no clue how this was going to work, so I carefully spun him around in five circles and then covered his face with my hand so he couldn’t see.
We stood there, staring at him as he sat right in front of the poster, not moving. I waited in anticipation for him to lift his paw, but he was stagnant; it didn’t even look like he was breathing.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is this what he did last time?”
Rosie shrugged. “I didn’t spin him last time. I just let him swipe.”
I stood there, bent over, with my hand over a cat’s eyes while I waited for it to swat at my best friend’s crotch. This was beyond stupid.
Talk about one’s life changing once they were in a relationship. I never thought I would spend my Friday nights with a girlfriend who was pregnant and a cat whose favorite pastime was licking his junk.
But, here I was, and guess wh
at? I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Should we call it a forfeit?”
Rosie shushed me and then whispered. “No, he’s thinking. I can tell in the way his ears are tilted back. I’ve spent enough time with this cat in my lifetime to know when he’s about to move. Just give it a second.”
Right on cue, out of nowhere, Sir Licks-a-Lot lifted his paw and swatted Derk’s crotch, right on the mark, leaving a wet paw print on the picture.
Both Rosie and I stood there, flabbergasted by his uncanny accuracy. I kind of wanted to applaud the cat, give him a high paw, because damn was he good.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Rosie’s chest start to rise and fall at a rapid rate, and I prepared for the worst. My shoulders tightened up, I squinted and waited for the tidal wave of emotion of losing to a cat at pin the penis once again.
“Son of a bitch!” Rosie yelled. When she swore, you knew it wasn’t good because she never swore. Arms pumping, she power-walked over to the penis piñata, where she booted it straight into the air and then stormed off to the bedroom, the door slamming behind her.
I glanced over at a smug looking Sir Licks-a-Lot and said, “Thanks. You just made my night exponentially harder.” I couldn’t help it, though, the cat had skills, so I leaned over and gave him knuckles. To my surprise he lifted his paw and met my hand halfway. “Got to hand it to you, bud, you nailed that crotch.”
The boys of the apartment had to stick together when the pregnant demon was storming around.
Turning to the bedroom, I took a deep breath and made the fiery walk to hell. It felt like lava and fire were booming next to me as I drew closer and closer to the bedroom door. I could hear pounding on the other side. The only reason I decided to go in was because I was afraid she might cause harm to the baby; otherwise, I would have let her figure out her devastating loss by herself.
Preparing for the worst, I let myself into the pit of lava-filled hell. Just as I suspected, on the other side was Rosie losing her damn mind. Straddling my pillow, she threw blow after blow with her fists to the feather down cocoon. I prayed she didn’t ruin the shape as I approached.