The Baby Whisperer [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1: The Guy on Fire

“Tomato, tomatah -- I already asked them to get me a star,” she replies proudly, ignoring my question.

“They’re going to Europe on a honeymoon, Lu -- not the friggin’ moon. They’re going to eat baguettes in Paris and pasta in Italy and whatever other shit they’ve got across the Atlantic,” I yawn, running one hand through my dark brown hair and another over my my face.

Instantly, she pouts -- where the hell does she learn these things? -- “So … no star?”

“No star,” I tell her flatly. “Now get out of my face, I need to take a leak.”

She scrunches her nose up and sticks her tongue out at me. “Mum and Dad are waiting in the kitchen -- better hurry up,” she sings before skipping out of my room.

I’m sure you don’t want to hear about me expending bodily fluids. I’m hot and all -- but no one wants to hear about that.

So while I get through my morning demons, I’ll tell you a bit more about my family -- which is a perfectly normal thing to think about while you’re taking a leak.

Mum was born and raised in London. She came to the US for a semester of graduate school at NYU. She ran into Dad -- literally -- in a bar where he ruined her favorite cashmere sweater by spilling a glass of expensive red wine on it.

They’ll tell you it was love at first sight.

But that’s bull shit.

Knowing the two of them, knives and forks were probably flying in the air before they realized they liked each other.

Mum is now an English literature professor at NYU. But even after twenty years of living stateside, she still talks like a bloody Brit. That’s why I sometimes turn on the Brit-speak as well -- the ladies dig it. Her job also explains my name, along with Luna and Fred’s.

The brats, obviously, were named after Harry Potter characters. If you do the math -- which, like me, you probably won’t -- you’ll see my now eight-year-old brother Fred was born in 2005 and the seventh Harry Potter book didn’t come out until 2007. No one cried as much as Mum did when Fred Weasley died since he was, obviously, her favorite twin. Luna was named after that weird blonde chick who was Mum’s favorite girl in the whole Potter franchise.

And just to be clear, I was named after Oliver from Oliver Twist -- not that Scottish guy who ran around with a broom up his arse. It’s just a fucking coincidence that we share the same first and last name.

Dad, on the other hand, owns Forest Games and Apps Dev’t. Unltd. -- or Forest Games if those were too many words for you.

I told him he should’ve named the company Playing with Wood but that was, apparently, too pervy for his tastes.

Anyway, Forest Games was one of the first companies to make games and apps for Facebook and smart phones. Now, it’s one of the most successful. That just makes Dad one of the richest new media tycoons in the business -- which indirectly makes us pretty freaking rich.

My parents are very busy people -- which is why Mum’s been acting like a kid in candy land since she found out their vacation times finally matched up. They could finally go on that Europe trip she always wanted.

Speaking of Mum, she would flip her shit if she saw me walking around in just my boxers. So I pulled on a pair of sweatpants before heading on to the kitchen for some grub.

Mum notices me standing by the kitchen entryway. She tucks a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear and offers me a warm smile then quickly goes back to scribbling on the piece of paper in front of her. Dad just stares at his iPad intently like all the universe’s secrets are written on there but he acknowledges my presence with a grunt. Fred and Luna, on the other hand, ignore me completely and continue talking about whatever kids these days yap about -- probably Barney.