The Knocked Up Plan(8)

Turns out that life coaches do better when they walk the walk and talk the talk.

Whodda thunk it?

“I can pull back on the sex talk on my show,” I offer, since I don’t have a lot of cards to play here at Hanky Panky Love. If the advertisers are getting cold feet, I’ll have to do something.

Cal shakes his head, a beleaguered look on his face. “There’s nothing wrong with sex. Sex is great. We all love it. We’re all trying to have more of it. I’m not silencing you from talking about sex. We built this division of this media business on a willingness to write frankly, honestly, and humorously about sex. But it is always with the underlying goal of love. That’s why we’re named Hanky Panky Love. But lately, you’re all about the hanky panky, and not about the love. I’m asking you to find a way to tie your show and your column back to the mission: intimacy.”

I shudder at that word.

“Take Nicole Powers,” Cal continues, and the second he mentions her name, his expression shifts. He beams as if she’s the golden child, while I’m the bastard offspring. “She can talk about orgasms till the cows come home, but everything is tied back to finding the one. The one true love.”

“Nicole does a great job,” I say, and maybe I’m a tiny bit jealous of his praise, but mostly I’m happy for her because that chick is the definition of cool. Who knew the woman could discover so many interesting ways to fit an eight-inch vibrator into the bedroom? I read that in her column a few months ago, and I was damn impressed with how she suggested a squeeze-play action so the rabbit could join in woman-on-top.

Plus, she kills it as a Ping-Pong partner. She’s hungry and ferocious and loves to win. So do I, and don’t let anyone tell you that that little table sport isn’t a wonderful way to work out aggression over your ex.

“One true love,” I say, the words acrid on my tongue. But I don’t have the luxury of ignoring his request, so I gobble up a big dose of bitter, humble pie. “I can do that, Cal. I can absolutely refocus to finding the one true love.”

“Thank you. I know you can, and I’m confident you will. I am sorry your marital fortune changed, but you still have a job to do, and when I hear comments on the show about getting laid, coupled with your remarks at the seminar last night, they concern me.”

I tilt my head, a suspicious curiosity zipping through me. “I didn’t see you at the seminar.”

“Of course not. I sent my son to attend.”

I groan as I remember the goateed man feverishly taking notes. “You had a plant there to spy on me, Mr. Tomkin?”

“I don’t consider it spying. I see it as conducting due diligence on the investment I made in your brand.”

“I told those guys at the class to treat women well,” I say, defending my closing act in the session.

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “By giving them a huff and puff orgasm?”

I stand and park my hands on my hips. “Is that not part of treating a woman well?”

“It absolutely is, and I make sure Mrs. Tomkin is showered in gifts in that department,” he says, and I immediately hit the erase button on the last ten seconds.

I focus on what I have to do next. I need to convince him I can be the guy I once was. I thread my fingers together, showing the union of my hands. “The bond between love and intimacy is a beautiful thing. That’s why I aim to give men the confidence to talk to the women of their dreams.”

His pale eyes glitter. “Exactly. That’s the Ryder I want.”

I heap on another spoonful of sugar. “I hear you, sir. I understand what you’re saying. You need me to focus less on getting laid, and more on getting her heart,” I say, bringing my fist to my sternum and tapping so hard you can hear it.

“Yes. Keep it bawdy. Keep it fun. But don’t lose sight of the end game. You’ve got their backs. You’re helping the men of the world connect with their soul mates. Do that, and you’re golden.”

I need to polish my rough edges. That’s all this is. I’ll refocus my show, clean up my seminar act, and I’ll be good to go. No one needs to know I don’t believe the bullshit I’m selling anymore. All I need to do is sell it. “I can do that.”

He pats the edge of his desk, which he does whenever he’s about to say something sympathetic. “I know it can’t be easy, and I know things have changed with Maggie out of the picture,” he says, and cold dread runs through my body. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to the mention of her name. I’d rather not have the sympathy.

“I’m fine. Romeo and I have moved on.”

“Good. I have a new assignment for you. It’s a big project.” He spreads his arms wide as if showing the scope of the work. “We have an advertiser behind it, and I think we can turn it into a book deal if it works out.”

My ears prick. Book deals that work out are like little money machines that spit up cash in the form of royalties every month.

“I want you to produce The Consummate Guide to Ten Wonderful Dates That Can Lead to Love.”

“You do?”

“We’ll run it as a series of columns. I think it can be wildly successful across all our mediums. You can use it as the fodder for your show as well.”

“Isn’t that like that movie How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?” I ask, cringing inside because Maggie loved that movie.