The Randy Romance Novelist

by Meghan Quinn

  “Uh, hey, love. Everything okay?”

  Her entire body contorted into something I’d only seen from The Exorcist and danger danced in her eyes as she stared me down. A deep voice bellowed out of her, scaring me right out of my socks. “Does it look like I’m okay?”

  The scene was straight out of a horror film. Sweet woman mutated and possessed so now she spoke the devil’s tongue in a dark and scary voice. The kind of voice that you heard and swore snakes popped out of their mouth when they spoke.

  My lip trembled as I tried to gain my composure from feeling utterly terrified. Sweat kissed the back of my neck and the urge to pee was overwhelming. I backed up from the pillow-beating Beelzebub and held up my hands.

  “Um, I’m just going to let you finish up here. I’ll be in the living room, stuffing bags, if you need me.”

  Without turning my back on her, I quickly made my way out of the bedroom and shut the door, only to hear her start to beat my pillow again. I just prayed she wasn’t envisioning my face while she was punching.

  Needing to calm my nerves, I grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then settled down on the floor, where I started to pack the bags for the bachelorette party. I didn’t dare turn on the TV to watch the sports highlights, in fear that the monster might spring from the room, claws and fangs exposed.

  In silence, I packed away like a dutiful boyfriend, while Sir Licks-a-Lot put on a delightful show of tongue to crotch for me. His gnawing noise was the cherry on top of the deranged cake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Penis Allergies Please

  ROSIE

  Last night wasn’t my best showing.

  I let losing to a cat get to me. Instead of storming off in pure, unfiltered rage, I should have shaken hand in paw with the feline and congratulated him on a job well done.

  But I didn’t do that.

  Despite my best efforts to not take the loss to heart, I ended up punting a hole through the bottom of the penis piñata that Henry had to patch up this morning before heading off to work—again—and relentlessly beating Henry’s pillow until I passed out on the bed, ass up in the air and arms spread out like a T. I know this because Henry took a picture of me last night, only to show me this morning.

  Normally, I would have laughed; instead, I chucked his phone across the room. I watched it skid across the floor until it hit the kitchen wall. I was so shocked at my reaction that I ran into the bathroom, locked myself away, and got ready for my doctor’s appointment.

  Thank God for phone cases, because before I left the apartment, I checked to make sure his phone was okay and apologized. He was very forgiving, kissed me on the forehead, and sent me on my way. I told him I had some last minute bachelorette party things to attend to, rather than tell him about my appointment. I couldn’t spare another eye roll from him.

  I knew he was stressed, I was stressed, the cat was stressed . . . it was one giant stress ball in our apartment, and the last thing I wanted to do was get all emotional again over my heavy purple vagina. I was pretty sure one more insane outburst from me was going to grant me a one-way ticket to singles-ville. Why the man hadn’t left me yet was beyond me, especially after last night’s episode.

  Pretty sure I earned my grade-A certificate to the insane asylum.

  Something to be proud of.

  All the self-respect I once had for myself derailed and flew off into the abyss, never to be found again. Whenever I tried to find it, I struck out big time, and usually wound up making a bigger ass of myself.

  The one good thing that happened today was Wolf Fleece Wendy hooked me up with her editor. She was going through the first round of edits. Wendy thought it would be a good idea for me to self-publish; it gave me more control and I could start to get my name out there. She talked about starting up a separate Facebook page, a website with my own domain, and a Goodreads profile. I had no clue what any of that was, but I had a feeling I was going to find out quickly. She was the driving force behind my book right now; without her, it would probably still be on my computer, ten chapters in and no resolution for poor Meghan, left only with a good fart to the face of one of the suitors trying to pursue her.

  “Rosie,” a nurse called out into the waiting room.

  I gathered my things and followed her to the back of the doctor’s office, straight to the scale, where I began to instantly sweat. I knew the number she was going to read out loud wasn’t going to settle well with me, so I tried to weasel my way out of this portion of the exam.

  “I don’t think we need to weigh me. I can tell you I’m a cool one twenty-five.” I sucked in the gut that had started to flop over my yoga pants, but she wasn’t falling for it.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but we have to weigh everyone.” She tapped the scale, indicating for me to follow directions.

  “Um, okay. Hold on.” I dropped my purse, took off my shoes, socks, scarf, and even undid my ponytail to get rid of the weight of the rubber band . . . anything to help that number.

  “You ready?” The nurse looked at me weird.

  “Sure, but please note, I had a bagel this morning, so I might be a little heavier than normal.” I stepped one foot on the scale, secretly keeping the other foot on the floor, but applying just enough pressure to reach that one twenty-five mark. “Ah, see, I told you. What a lovely number, don’t you think?”

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step fully onto the scale.”

  We both looked at my feet and I giggled. “Oops, my mistake. I thought it was one foot on the scale day. Man, you should have told me it was a both feet on the scale day. I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for two feet on the scale today.”

  The nurse put her hand on her hip, clearly not entertained by me, and said, “You can either put both feet on the scale or I can write down that you weigh two hundred pounds and move on.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I sneered at her.

  “Test me.”

  She was one tough bitch.

  “Fine, but just so you know, my friend said I’ve gained a little love chub since I’ve moved in with my boyfriend, but I’ve been going to the gym, letting the bike eat my crotch, despite how much it hurts.”

  Yup, I knew it made no sense to a perfect stranger.

  She ignored me and started moving the knob on the scale right past one twenty, on to one thirty, and stopping at one forty.

  “One forty-one,” she announced to the entire office building.

  “You shut your mouth,” I snapped at her, covering my lips right away from my outburst. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that just came from.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed at me, scanning me up and down. “You peed in a cup after you signed in?”

  “Yes, and thank you to whoever opened the little pee cup door while I was still in there . . . I gave them a good show.”

  “That was me.” I could see the look of satisfaction on her face. I grew more and more agitated with her by the second. She had to be related to Marta in some way, as well as the spin instructor. Nurse Scale Nazi and Marta, decorating and medicating vaginas one spread leg at a time. “Follow me,” she called out, moving toward one of the rooms.

  I quickly gathered my discarded items and trotted after her, trying not to let the fact that I had gained sixteen pounds enter my mind. I could feel the tears start to threaten to fall over, but I breathed it out. I didn’t need Nurse Scale Nazi judging me anymore than she already was.

  When I arrived in the room, she made me quickly change into an open-face Aztec-decorated gown behind a partition while she asked me questions.

  “Are you a smoker?”

  “No.”

  “Do you drink?”

  “Not really. My boyfriend does, though, but I guess second-hand alcohol consumption isn’t a thing,” I joked, laughing to myself.

  Crickets on the other end.

  “Sexually active?”

  “Yes!” I practically screamed and then realized I said it loud enough for the entire top h
alf of the building to hear me. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Fresh to the sex scene, three months in, and going strong.” I held up a solid fist of accomplishment. “I enjoy the sex, feels nice. Henry has a good-sized penis. Is that a question?” I popped my head past the partition and the nurse just shook her head at me. “I guess not, but if it was, he has a nice penis. No STDs or anything, if you are worried about that. We use protection.”

  “Birth control?” she asked, continuing with her questions.

  “Condoms. He uses the Legacy brand. Sometimes ribbed, not that he needs to use ribbed, he can get my engine revving with just an index finger and thumb.”

  “Details aren’t necessary, Miss Bloom.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I walked out into the room, wearing my robe and clinging it to my body so my boobs didn’t poke out the front. I sat on the table, weary of the stirrups I would be propping myself up in. “Didn’t know how much detail we had to get into. I don’t do any butt play, if that’s a question. I don’t think that’s something I want to explore, but I do enjoy trying new positions, and we have used toys. Oh, I got a bullet stuck in my vagina once, if you need to know that, and I did get my butthole bleached once, not really by my choice. And, of course, I had a bad waxing episode, but I did recently get vajazzled and that was a real delight, except for the fact that one of the gems got stuck in Henry’s pee hole. He had to jump up and down to get it out. What a sight that was.”

  I smiled at the nurse, who was staring at me, dumbfounded. Without any emotion or acknowledgment of my sexual history, she asked, “Last period?”

  “Oh, that was . . .” I paused, trying to think of the last time I menstruated. “Huh, I guess . . .” I counted on my fingers, trying to recall the last time I’d used a box of tampons, but nothing was coming to mind. “I guess it’s been a while.” I shrugged off my answer. “If you’re taking notes, I would like to talk to the doctor about being allergic to my boyfriend’s penis, because we’ve had a lot of sex, and I’m kind of afraid our private parts don’t mingle well. My vagina has felt very heavy lately, like it was stung by a bee or something.”

  She ignored me and asked again, “When was your last period?”

  Taken aback by her attitude, I said, “I told you, a bit ago. I don’t quite remember.”

  “Last month?”

  I thought about last month and shook my head.

  “Two months ago?”

  Two months ago, Henry and I were on a doggy style kick, almost every single day. I shook my head no.

  “Three months?”

  I laughed. “Gosh, three months seems so long ago. Three months without a period, ha you would think I would be . . .”

  The words died on my tongue as realization set in.

  Holy. Fuck.

  Yes, I said the F word.

  “Mmm-hmm. The doctor will be right with you.”

  She walked out of the room, putting my chart in the file holder hanging on the back of the door and closed it, a loud click ringing through the silent room.

  There was no way.

  Quickly, I spread my legs and lowered my head, getting a good look at my vagina. Did vaginas morph into baskets when they were hiding something inside? Holding everything together?

  Standing up, I opened my robe and stood to the side in front of the mirror, examining my body. Legs were the same, thighs were the same, stomach . . . poochy.

  Poochy!

  My right hand ran over my belly, taking in its expansion.

  Oh. My. God!!

  A light knock rung through the room, signaling me to shut my robe before the door opened. Doctor Nesbum appeared at the door with a giant smile on his face.

  “Rosie, it’s nice to see you.”

  I didn’t greet him; I didn’t even try to hide the desperation in my voice. “Can people be allergic to penises? To the point that their stomach swells?” I grabbed his shoulders and shook them, looking for answers. “Does too much penis make you bloated?”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, a little caught off guard.

  “Please tell me I’m allergic to my boyfriend’s penis and have had swelling in my stomach from infection.”

  My robe flapped open, Virginia on display, but I didn’t bother to shut things up. I was looking for answers, desperate for them.

  “How about you sit down and we can talk,” he answered, peeling my hands off his shoulders.

  Nurse Scale Nazi walked in, scanned me up and down, and shook her head, as she handed the doctor a paper. He looked it over and nodded, placing the paper in my file.

  “How have you been feeling, Rosie?”

  I flopped my body on the table, propped my legs in the stirrups, giving the doc a full frontal of my situation. Robe hanging open and arm over my eyes, I said, “Just give it to me straight. Tell me I’m that idiot who should be on the show about how they are nine months pregnant and didn’t know it.”

  The squeaky wheels of his chair rolled toward me. “I wouldn’t say nine months pregnant, but you are most definitely with child. Your pee test came back positive.”

  And there it was, the word I was trying to avoid.

  Pregnant.

  Holy hell, I was pregnant.

  “I had sex,” I mumbled, bewildered from the news I was hearing. “It was supposed to be for fun, so I could learn how to stop writing about throbbing man swords and lap broccoli. It was supposed to welcome me to my adult life and connect me with another human being. I wasn’t supposed to be able to procreate.” I sat up and questioned Doctor Nesbum. “Are you sure I’m not allergic to the penis? I’ve had a lot of sex, like an unhealthy amount of sex, like if I wasn’t sitting on a couch, I was sitting on his penis.”

  I could tell Doctor Nesbum was uncomfortable with my candidness, but I didn’t care, I needed answers.

  “I can assure you, you’re not allergic to any penises.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, raising my voice. “You haven’t even looked at my vagina yet.” The baby must have taken over my movements, because before I knew what was happening, I palmed the doctor’s head and pushed it toward my crotch, forcing him to observe Virginia. “Go ahead, tell me I’m not allergic to penises. Look at the purple flaps.”

  His hands gripped the bottom of the table and pushed against my firm grip. “Miss Bloom, I’m going to ask you kindly to release my head from your crotch.”

  His sentence registered in my head as mortification took over. A nauseating feeling came over me, and instead of demanding answers, I curled up into a ball and started rocking back and forth on the table.

  “This can’t be happening.”

  “Rosie, I would like to discuss this with you.”

  “What is there to discuss?” I asked, my voice full of sorrow. “I’m pregnant, my boyfriend is never home, and honestly, I’m not even sure how committed he is to me, given the fact that Tasha has been probably flopping her boobs on his desk every day. She’s so pretty, and here I am, frumpy girl whose yoga pants barely fit. What’s a girl to do?”

  “If you sit up, we can discuss options.”

  His comment didn’t settle well with me. I popped off the table and secured the robe around my waist. “How dare you, sir?” I held onto my stomach. “I don’t know what you mean by options, but I will tell you this, despite the fact that my boyfriend might be a work-a-holic who doesn’t want to have sex with me anymore, I will by no means give up this baby.” With my head held high, I grabbed my belongings and tore out of the examination room, while calling over my shoulder, “Good day!”

  The walk home wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be after storming out of a doctor’s office and standing up for my unborn child, since I was practically naked and barefoot.

  But I didn’t focus on the weird stares I received from everyone, or the way my robe kept flapping in the wind, dangerously almost exposing Virginia to the world. Instead, I tried to think of ways to attract Henry once again.

  I knew he loved me . . . he had to. Maybe if I stepped up m
y sex factor for him, put on a little display of cleavage, maybe he would find me attractive again and not leave me the minute I told him I was pregnant.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse and texted Delaney.

  Rosie: I need you to sex me up for this party. Henry isn’t going to know what hit him when he sees me at that party.

  Satisfied with my plan to keep my baby daddy, I finished the trek across New York City. Henry wouldn’t know what hit him.

  Tasha who?

  ***

  “Don’t burn my skin!” I screeched, feeling the heat of the curling iron close to my scalp.

  “Yell at me one more time, go ahead,” Delaney threatened.

  I’d been quite jumpy, irritated, irrational, moody, emotional, and a whole plethora of other emotions since I got back from the doctor. I didn’t say a word to anyone; instead, I went straight to the fridge, stuck my head inside, and ate leftover pizza straight off the plate, like a pig at its trough, not even bothering to use my hands.

  The cold felt good on my heated body, and the pizza delighted my gullet as I practically swallowed it whole. I’d just finished gobbling down the crust when Delaney showed up at the apartment, armed with a militia of beauty products and styling devices that looked like they belonged in an electric dildo chamber of tortures.

  I didn’t want to tell anyone about the pregnancy just yet, because honestly, I was still in denial, even though it all made sense.

  Who missed their period and didn’t realize it? I was THAT girl. If I thought about it, I guess at the time I was just happy that I didn’t get a visit from Campbell’s Tomato Soup, so I could continue to have sex.

  Ugh, randy much?

  “You need to settle down; you’ve been sweating this entire time. Your makeup is going to melt off.”

  I aired out my shirt by fanning it away from my body. “It’s hot in here.”

  “It’s a normal temperature; you’re just being a complete freak. Now settle down and look in my purse; there’s something special in there for you. You want to get sexed up; well, I’ve got just the trick that will have Henry panting for your attention.”