“Oh, I see,” I say calmly. Luckily she can’t see my internal happy dance.
She leads me down a narrow hallway to her home office. The walls are painted a buttery yellow, and the room is bright and cheerful with a window looking over a portion of the canyon.
“So here are the little monsters that have been torturing me.”
I move towards the laptops confidently. This is something I know, and I’m happy to be her tech savior. Hopefully it will make her understand that she can count on me.
I sit down at her desk and open the first laptop. “Okay, I’ll need your password.”
“Buttercup,” she replies without hesitation.
“Like the flower?”
“No, like the Powerpuff Girl.”
I laugh. “I would have taken you more for her sister, Blossom. Buttercup was kind of mean.”
“You don’t know my dark side yet. I can be quite nasty.”
“Really?” It’s hard for me to imagine. “You aren’t mean at all; I just know it.”
“No, not really,” she admits. “But my Dad used to call me Buttercup, and I can have a smart mouth.” She steps closer. “Hey, take off your glasses.”
As soon as I do, she slides her hand up my forehead and pushes my long bangs back. “I knew it! You look like Professor Utonium! You’re tall like him and have that sculpted face and sharp jaw line. I always had a thing for him…he was so loving with his girls.”
“Watch out, your boyfriend Mojo Jojo may get jealous.”
“Are you calling my boyfriend a monkey?”
“Well, you’re the one that talked about his monkey’s back.”
“And he does want to take over the animation world,” she admits.
“Besides calling me the Professor isn’t so great—he was clueless after all,” I say.
“Don’t knock the Professor; he was brilliant in the lab,” she admonishes me.
“Yeah but he was clueless when it came to the girls,” I remind her, laughing.
Brooke smiles at me warmly, and I turn back to the computers and start my diagnostics.
Over the next hour while I check the systems, update her software, and transfer her data, Brooke sits on the daybed in the office and keeps me company. She tells me stories about growing up in West L.A. where her mom worked for a chiropractor and her dad owned an organic food co-op, years before organic food became a trend. She describes herself as bookish and self-conscious because she wasn’t part of the “in” crowd at her middle and high schools. Other kids thought her obsession with cartoons and comics was weird, especially for a girl. She ignored the naysayers and took every kind of drawing and cartooning class until she finally had to accept that she didn’t have the natural talent for it. It wasn’t until she got a chance to intern one summer at Animation Magazine that she found her calling. She ended up earning a scholarship to the USC film school where she focused on the administrative and marketing side of the business. The contacts she made there served her well once she was out of school.
“You know, my first job was with Nickelodeon as an assistant in development, and that’s where I first met Arnauld. He’d come in to pitch a joint production between our studios. The project never happened, but Arnauld and I did. Within six months, he got me hired for a higher level position at Sketch Republic.”
“Management didn’t mind that you were involved?”
“They didn’t seem to,” she admitted. “We’re very professional. Sometimes it feels like more of a professional relationship really.”
As hard as it is to hear about Arnauld, these are the little nuggets I’m gathering in my arsenal to win over Brooke.
Later when Brooke serves me a platter full of weird non-food, like barley salad and brown rice with lumpy tofu gravy, we take our plates outside to enjoy the view. From her balcony, you can see parts of Hollywood and downtown. We are just about to start when her cell phone rings and she sees it’s from Arnauld.
“Do you mind if I take it? We’ve missed each other several times today.”
“Sure,” I agree as I watch her step a few feet back into the house. She’s close enough that I can hear what she says.
“Hey, baby.
Yeah, that sounds like fun. Is Stuart behaving himself?
Yes, I went to the gym, and you’ll be happy to know I took the class and did my full work out. Now I’m eating that crappy healthy stuff you like from Whole Foods.
No, not alone…I’m about to eat with my friend, Nathan, from the studio. He came over and helped me set up my new computer.
Yeah, okay, get going. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t lose too much at the tables.
Okay, me too. Bye.”
She slips back into her chair and stabs a tofu nugget with her fork before wrapping her lips around it.
“Does he mind that I’m here?” I ask nervously. If Brooke were my girl, I’d go atomic to hear another guy was at her house having dinner with her.
“No, not at all. He knows you’re just a friend, but even so—he isn’t the jealous type. Besides we have an open relationship; we’re both free to date other people.”
“You do?” I ask horrified.
“Last month I hooked up with an old boyfriend I hadn’t seen in years. We only went out a couple of times, but it was fun.”
I don’t know if I should be happy with this news or discouraged. She can date other people, but I’m just a friend. I push the nasty food around on my plate as I consider everything.
“You don’t like it?” she asks, nodding towards my meal.
“No, not really. I’m not a health food kind of guy. Don’t worry, I’ll order a pizza when I get home.” I grin at her.
“Oh, thank God!” she laughs as she pushes her plate away. “You’re so fit looking that I figured you ate like Arnauld does. Well, to hell with this crap. Let’s order a pizza! I even have some beer stashed in the back of the fridge.”
“Now, you’re talking.” I didn’t miss that she called me fit. Buying that damn treadmill now really seems like the best investment I ever made.
We dump our food in the trash and tease each other about what toppings to have on our pizza. I draw the line at artichokes…nasty little buggers. They look like alien food.
A couple of hours later, we’re sprawled out on her couch, watching a compilation DVD of independent animated films from the Annecy Animation Festival, and we’re getting a little tipsy from our third round of beer.
“Okay, that one didn’t make any sense at all. Did you understand it?” she asks laughing.
“The story? Was there one? I was too distracted by the weird animation with the wobbly lines.” I moan holding my head with my hands.
“Have you ever submitted a film to a festival?”
“No, but I’ve thought about it. There is a short I did during my first year at Sketch Republic that with a few edits and new titles could be a possibility.”
“Do it!” she yells out.
“Okay!” I yell back, and we both break into a fit of laughter falling back against the couch. I feel so happy just hanging here with her that I’m giddy. I don’t ever want to leave.
When she finally catches her breath she turns to me. “I hope your girlfriend appreciates you.”
I’m so relaxed and content that I open my mouth before I’ve thought it through. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“But I thought…”
“Nope!” I announce assertively, shaking my head. “Who has time for a girlfriend? The only girlfriend I’ve got is the one I draw every night for my comic book.”
“How did I get the idea you had a girlfriend?”
“I have no idea.”
“But don’t you like someone? You must have your eye on someone? You’re amazing and there are a lot of cute girls at Sketch Republic. What about that in-betweener, Genna?”
“Oh, I like someone, but she doesn’t know it.” I take a swig of my beer, and my head spins with my daring proclamation.
“
Oh, this is exciting! I know, I know who it is…it’s that adorable Dani who was in your cube the other day, isn’t it?” She’s practically bouncing off the couch.
“Oh, yeah…Dani,” I say sarcastically, but I must be too subtle since she continues along this misguided path.
“I bet she likes you too. What’s stopping you? Have you taken her out?”
“We’ve gone out,” I admit, omitting the fact that the only time Dani and I went out is with Nick and the gang. I begin to wonder why I’m digging this hole. I guess I don’t want her to fully understand yet what a social freak I am.
“Well, did you kiss her? That gives a pretty clear message…hard to miss that, even if she’s clueless.”
My head falls forward as I begin to put all my attention on peeling the label off my beer bottle. My stomach is rolling. “No, I haven’t kissed her. I’m the world’s worst kisser, so that isn’t even an option.”
“What in the hell are you talking about…world’s worst kisser?” she slurs. “That’s impossible.”
“How would you know?”
“I can just tell. You’re creative, and creative guys are the best. Plus you’ve got those lips with that sexy mouth. Hell, I would kiss you just to get closer to your amazing teeth. It’s just impossible.” Her arms are waving dramatically.
“Well I love that you think I’d be great to kiss, but according to Rachel….”
“Rachel?”
“My girlfriend at CalArts…she hated kissing me—refused actually.”
“Do you have bad breath or something?”
Before I can respond, she practically crawls into my lap and puts her nose up to my surprised, open mouth.
“Wow, your breath is sweet, not bad at all.” She falls back to where she was sitting on the couch.
“Gee, thanks. No, my biggest problem is that I’m just stiff and awkward.”
“Oh, please…” She jumps up and reaches out for my hand. “I know I’m tipsy but never mind that. Do you want me to help you?”
“Sure, how?”
“I’m going to help you get over this crazy idea. Come on, stand up.”
I take her hand, and she pulls on me until I push myself up off the couch. I steady myself and smile to see her so serious, her fists perched authoritatively on her curvy hips.
“Okay,” she instructs. “Pretend I’m Dani and we’ve just had a date.” She starts pulling me forward.
Oh, good God, I moan inwardly. This is really getting out of hand. I need to stop it, but like a car crash that you know you should avoid looking at, it seems beyond my control.
“So Dani is walking you to her door to say goodnight. What do you say?”
“Um, I had a great time?”
“No, that’s too generic. Make it about her. ‘Dani, I hope you know how much I love spending time with you.’“ She takes my hand, as we get closer to the door. My fingers tighten over hers.
“Dani, I hope you know how much I love spending time with you,” I repeat, my heart thumping wildly with a mix of anticipation and fear.
“Can I see you again?” she asks in a low voice as we reach the door.
I swallow hard. “Can I see you again?” I whisper.
She pushes me against the door, and the look in her eyes undoes me. I forget that she is acting, demonstrating this scene for my benefit. All I can feel is this overwhelming passion I have for her. I’m already excited. Can I, can I?
“Can I kiss you?” she asks with those beautiful eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I whisper as she steps forward. I feel her hands rest on my chest first before they move up to my shoulders. A second passes, and then she’s so close to me that I can feel the heat from her skin, her full breasts skimming my chest. Oh, Brooke.
What if, like every other time in my intimate history, I’m disappointing? What if she gets disgusted and gives up on me? I’m overwhelmed with fear, but I close my eyes and reach for her with my heart and soul. I say a silent prayer that this will be a moment where my life changes course, all my wrongs with girls will be right…this will be the kiss that’ll change everything. Or will it?
Animate Me / Chapter Five / Closed for Business
“Any more at home like you?” ~Lois Lane “Uh no, not really.” ~ Supermaniv
The minute her perfect lips touch mine the room goes black, but not in a good way. I gasp and my body seizes into one rigid mess. I’m an awkward statue, a frozen failure.
Her tender hand wraps around my neck, and her lips soften and coax mine, but the ship has sailed. The weight of every horrible kiss from my past slams into me, and the little sign in the window sadly flips forward, closed for business.
She presses on one more time, a hint of desperation and refusal to accept failure. This only makes things worse, and I pull away from her and raise my hands to cover my face. No, no, no.
I must have actually said the words because I instantly hear her shift in voice and tenor. “It’s okay, Nathan, it’s okay. Please don’t freak out.”
I blindly reach out for the doorknob to make my escape. I twist and pull, but she sees what I’m doing and she pushes back.
“No,” she insists.
“Please, please…just let me leave. I’m so embarrassed. Please…” I moan.
“No,” she says with more conviction. “This is my fault. I pushed it, and I want to fix it.”
I open my eyes wide, and frustration washes over me. “You can’t fix me. I’m just messed up. Something’s wrong with me, and I’m just not meant to be like this with anyone normal.” My chest is heaving, and I can’t look at her. My eyes are focused on the door leading into the hallway.
“Please,” she begs, and I hear the tears in her voice before I finally look at her and see them trailing down her cheeks. I take off my glasses, and rub my eyes.
“Brooke, please don’t cry.” I feel even worse, if that’s possible.
“Will you just sit with me for a minute please?” she asks, gesturing towards the couch.
I nod and follow her over, and as I sit back down she turns off the TV and puts her iPod in the dock. The Cure comes on in their dreamy atmospheric splendor. Oh great, emo music, I think shuddering. A minute later Brooke hands me a small glass with clear liquid.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A shot of vodka, drink it please. It’ll help relax you.”
I knock it back without a thought. She has me now, even if I’m worthless. I would probably do anything she asks. I look up and imagine I can see the wheels turning in her head. Like Geppetto from Pinocchio, she’s trying to figure out how to fix her broken toy.
She crawls onto the couch and curls up next to me, taking my hand and gently rubbing it. Just when I figure she’s given up, she speaks.
“Where is your favorite place to relax?”
Huh? She’s pitching out of the left field. I’m confused, but I still want to please her. I think for a moment.
“Well, probably my hammock in my backyard. I like to lie in that and think of story ideas while I sway in the breeze.”
“That’s good. Is it under a tree?”
“Yes, it’s in the shade, so it stays cool.”
“Good, okay.” She scoots over even closer to me, practically sitting in my lap. What the hell? Could this night get any stranger?
She runs her fingers through my hair, and then starts rubbing my shoulders. “Close your eyes, Nathan. I want you to imagine that you are lying in your hammock, in the dappled light on a warm summer day.”
Her voice is soothing and soft, much prettier than Wayne Dyer’s. My head falls back on the cushions as her fingers move back up into my hair, and start massaging my scalp. No one has ever done this for me. It feels so good that I start to moan softly.
“Isn’t it wonderful in your hammock?” she asks.
“Yes,” I moan. Keep rubbing Brooke.
She works over me for a long time. I am vaguely aware of one Cure song shifting to another, and the burn of the vodka spre
ading through my veins. I’m so relaxed that I’m somewhere between sleep and the waking world.
When she senses how far gone I am, she starts up again. “Now I want you to imagine that Dani is curled up next to you,” she says softly.
My stomach lurches, but I quickly remind myself to replace that image with Brooke, and I relax again. Her magic fingers are unraveling me. One hand moves back to my shoulder, and the other lightly strokes my neck, and then skims across my cheek. “You pull Dani closer as the breeze blows over you. She gently touches you, and with each stroke you relax further.”
I take a deep breath as I feel Brooke’s soft hands move over my chest. I feel my body relaxing, sinking into the couch.
“Now imagine her lips kissing your face gently.” I feel Brooke’s lips on my forehead as her hands weave through my hair. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt this great. Every touch stirs and soothes me. She is a witch of unspeakable potions and spells, transforming me under her magic hands.
“Brooke,” I moan.
“Dani,” she corrects with a whisper.
Her lips brush across my cheek, and over my closed eyelids. I reach out and rest my hand on her hip.
It doesn’t fully hit me that she’s kissing me until my lips have already molded to hers in the most natural way. Her fingers work across my scalp as her tongue eases in, and suddenly my mouth understands the language it was meant to speak.
This is completely different in the best way, and we move together like the most graceful dancers. The push and pull, the building of passion, I am Gene Kelly to her Cyd Charisse. She makes me feel like I’m leading this dance even though I’m not. For these precious moments I am passion and romance, debonair and suave. I am the man I was supposed to be, and it’s so great.
My fingers sink into the flesh of her hip as I pull her closer once last time before we part. “Oh, my,” I moan, looking up at her.
“See, Nathan. I knew it was there all along, you just needed to quit thinking so much.”
“I just needed you,” I say unguardedly.
“Well, I’m glad I could help. You had me worried for a minute.” She runs her hand across my head and I see the warmth in her eyes. She does care about me. Maybe not in the way I want her to, but maybe more than I realize.
Animate Me Page 5