Free The Big "O": A Romantic Comedy by H. Raven Rose Page B

bald, yet adorable, Buddha-like toddler, sat in his highchair. Max fed him applesauce while Emily rinsed some cooked noodles at the sink.
    “'So my question for you, Max, is when are you going to do what you need to do to get on top of that bitch?'” Max said mimicking Kathryn in a high-pitched snarky tone of voice.
    “Did you tell her we've been busy?” Emily asked.
    Max grunted and spooned more applesauce into his kid. Emily took a pot of pasta sauce off of the stove and put it into a vintage thick blue pottery bowl. Max carefully spooned applesauce into the mouth of his happy child.
    “What else did she have to say?” Emily asked.
    “That we've had some success… and have a following… but a negative trend is a risk, so we better work our platform or we'll be back to self-publishing with our next book,” Max said. His voice exuded his obvious irritation.
    “So conceive of a way to parlay our fading 15 minutes into a half hour… or else?” Emily asked.
    “Yeah. She's weirded out that we had more momentum as self-publishers, percentage-wise. It’s like we sold more books that way than we're selling with them,” Max added.
    Emily brought the pasta and bowl of sauce and a green salad to the table.
    “I'll think of something. I'm working on getting twitter-fied,” Emily said.
    “So back to the issue at hand. What kind of woman brags publicly?” Max asked.
    Emily grinned and shrugged before she sat at the table and filled their plates.
    “And I think it's safe to say a book about being multi-orgasmic is a public brag. Right? She's probably some ugly skank who conceived of this… this… shameless public crowing to exploit people and sell books,” Max said meanly.
    “Men do it all the time,” Emily said and laughed.
    “Exploit people to sell books?” Max asked.
    “No, silly. Brag about their sexual prowess. And you know very well that she isn't an ugly skank. She is quite beautiful. She looks really happy, too,” Emily added.
    “Yeah, well guys brag in the privacy and decency of the locker room,” Max replied.
    Emily smiled and shook her head. Then she got up and took Max his plate full of food. He spooned the last bit of apple sauce into his child’s mouth. Baby Max swallowed and then fingered some green peas on his high chair tray. Max looked down at his plate.
    “That looks good,” Max said to his wife.
    Emily didn’t reply. Instead she rubbed his neck and he finally relaxed. Then she leaned down and kissed his ear. Baby Max cooed happily.
    Emily sat in a rocking chair in her son’s room. Baby Max toddled toward her with "The Art Book for Children,” an illustrated kid's art book with art works by famous artists. Emily picked him up. Max entered the room and leaned against the wall and watched his wife and child.
    “What do you want to look at first?” Emily asked her son.
    “Sunflower,” said the child.
    “Van Gogh it is, little man,” his mother replied.
    “Van Go,” baby Max said.
    “Van Gogh,” Emily said and corrected his pronunciation.
    “Van Goggh,” her son repeated happily.
    “Yes, very good. Van Gogh,” his mother replied and hugged her child tight.
    Max rolled his eyes to observe Emily still encouraging their child to stretch his mind beyond normal limits.
    “You don't have to teach him that, Emily,” Max said uqietly to his wife.
    “I want to,” Emily said firmly.
    “Whatever,” Max said, feeling cowed.
    Irritated, Max told her he'd be back to read the last story and put the little guy down. Then he left the room.
    Emily read to her child as he grew sleeper and she was excited to notice that her cell phone chirped as she got new followers, likes and retweets, and more, on various social networks.
    After she changed her little guy and then handed him off to his father, Emily relaxed on the master bedroom chaise and tweeted, "A financial mess is like a dirty diaper: no one wants to clean it up but the longer you let it go, the more it stinks". To her surprise,