by Nia Arthurs
My heart pounded against my chest as excitement fueled my veins.
Was I excited?
Hellz yeah!
I hadn’t advertised my animation skills in my programming business because animation and programming weren’t particularly synonymous. I hadn’t expected my passion to become a job opportunity so quickly. I restrained the tremble in my voice as I replied.
“Yes, tomorrow sounds doable. At what time?”
She gave me a time and directed me to the news station, a route which I was already familiar with, and then hung up.
I danced around my apartment, karate-chopped invisible haters and sang from the tip of my voice. None of the Reyes women were gifted with any kind of musical talent, despite our father’s artistic skills. That didn’t keep me from singing at the top of my lungs and shouting for joy in the quiet of my apartment.
Unfortunately, the celebration came to an abrupt end when I realized that I had a deadline on this code report and I needed to get my butt into that black swivel chair and make magic happen. Massaging my shoulders lightly, I approached my laptop with a grin fixed to my face.
Life was beautiful. Beautiful indeed.
I drove to the Channel Six news station in my beat up old black Volkswagen Beatle. I bought the vehicle from my Uncle Juan when I returned from university early last year. He assured me that though he’d seen many miles, Black Herbie would get me where I needed to go. Uncle Juan did not lie about that. Black Herbie did get me from point A to point B, but not without smoking away half of the city and lurching every time I pulled on the clutch.
Owning Black Herbie was a lesson in prayer and the correct usage of duct tape.
I puttered to the building’s parking space and got out. My father had installed an alarm on the old piece of metal. I cringed each time the vehicle beeped, indicating that the armor was on. Who would want to steal from a car that looked like that? One day, a homeless man gave me a dollar after washing my vehicle.
He gave me money.
It was that pathetic.
I climbed out of Black Herbie and smoothed down the cream pencil skirt that I wore along with a turquoise blouse and cream jacket. Mrs. Freemont was a professional lady and though this was more a personal project than a corporate one, I still wanted to demonstrate that, despite my age, I was a professional too. The heels of my tan pumps crushed into the pebbled stones of the gravel lawn and I nearly twisted my ankle walking up to the front door. I righted myself and glanced around to ensure that no one had caught the stumble. Satisfied that my dignity was intact, I opened the front door and walked confidently to the front desk.
“Hi,” I said to the girl behind the counter. She had long, neat dreads that fell to her shoulder blades and her black eyes were rimmed with a heavy, dark eyeliner. She kind of scared me to be honest.
“Hello.” The girl replied. She couldn’t be any older than I was. The tan uniform that she wore proudly blazed Channel Six’s logo on the pocket.
“I have an appointment with Mrs. Freemont. My name is Alexi Reyes.”
She typed something on the keyboard of her computer and then nodded. “Right. Just take the elevator to the second floor. She’s in the conference room.”
I thanked her and stepped away from the counter. My heels clicked against the smooth tiled floor. I pressed the elevator and stepped back. A hefty man bearing a giant video camera stormed out of the elevator when it opened. I quickly hopped out of the way and allowed him to pass.
Hmf, rude!
I grumbled beneath my breath and stepped into the elevator. My foul mood quickly dissipated as I realized, that in the next few minutes, I would be getting paid to do something that I loved. And maybe, Mrs. Freemont would love my work on this project and give me a more permanent position as an official Belizean cartoon animator.
Eep!
The possibilities paraded before my eyes as blaringly red as the elevator numbers. I stepped off on the second floor and surveyed the complete and utter chaos of the Channel Six news station. Every desk was overflowing with stacks of papers. The phone rang incessantly and I nearly placed my hand to my ears to restrain the shrieking. People hustled back and forth with newspapers gathered in their arms like children. I stepped forward hesitantly.
A journalist that I recognized from the evening news stopped me.
“You have an appointment with Freemont?”
“Yeah.” I nodded at the bald headed Latino man with the paunch and strange Hawaiian shirt. He covered entertainment news and every year he participated in the carnival during the September celebrations and wrote a story on it.
“She’s in there.” He pointed down a hall. “Just open the door on the left.”
I thanked him but I doubted that he heard me as he charged down the office like a man with a mission. I shrugged, directed my steps down the hall and turned the metal knob to the conference room door. Mrs. Freemont stood with her back to me, facing the view of the highway outside the floor to ceiling glass windows. She laughed and nodded to whoever was speaking on the other end of the line.
“No problem. Come when you can. Thank you for telling me. Okay… Buh bye.”
I sat down and politely waited for her to end the call. Mrs. Freemont was a short, light brown skin woman whose husband managed the bank that Spencer and Peyton did business with. She wore a well-tailored gray pantsuits. A tasteful gold watch encircled her wrist and her earrings were small, but fancy. She seemed like a woman acclimated to wealth, but not boastful about her blessings.
She put the phone in her pocket and turned around. Her eyes lighted on me and her smile grew. She rushed over to me like we were old friends and I stood, awkwardly opening my arms when I realized that she was leaning in for a hug.
“Alexi Reyes!” She squealed and her genuine enthusiasm made my name sound like a superstar’s.
“Hello, Mrs. Freemont.”
“Oh, call me Sharon.”
“Well, call me Lexi.” I shrugged.
She beamed.
I shifted uncomfortably.
I hoped she wasn’t expecting that kind of excitement from me. I didn’t wear my emotions on my sleeve quite so easily around strangers.
“Sit, sit!” She commanded and took the seat next to me around the wide wooden table. My heels sunk into the plush blue carpet at our feet and the warm wood paneling of the wall shone in the light coming from the floor to ceiling windows.
Sharon folded her arms and looked me dead in the eyes as she continued. “I’m so happy that you’ve come. As I explained over the phone, I want to produce cartoon shorts for Belizean children. I want it to be something that they can relate to. Something that they’d get up on Saturday mornings and watch because it reflected their lives or school experiences.”
She shifted a folder of information toward me. “These are some of my own personal ideas. However, I understand if tweaks or changes need to be made. I’m not a script writer by any means. I prefer managing and directing to the actual writing or reporting, but I have a vision and I think I have the right team to make it happen.”
She continued to speak about the kind of animation she was looking for and the tools that she’d purchased in order to make her dream a reality. She also offered to purchase any software that I’d need in order to animate. In a sweeping declaration, she met my initial hourly charge along with a generous stipend for my work.
“I really want this to be an amazing project. Hopefully, it will inspire the powers that be,” She lifted her hand as though she were about to offer a sacrifice to the gods, “to invest in our own Belizean cartoons, shows, and movies.”
I agreed with her because she was now my boss and a smile crept through my normally carefully serious demeanor.
“So,” I glanced around the empty conference room. “Where’s my partner in crime?”
“He’s on his way. He said that he’d be a bit late but-”
“I’m here. I’m here.” A voice breathlessly sounded. I stiffened immediately and
my eyes grew wide.
I recognized that timbre.
I slowly, almost painfully, turned around in my seat to confirm my suspicions.
Oh no.
The Vans shoes were new. I snaked my line of sight up carelessly whitewashed jeans to a black Batman T-shirt, past a perfectly squared jaw, straight-lined nose, and finally froze on clear-as-the-Caribbean-Sea blue eyes.
Darcy.
I felt my heart flap around my chest like a fish out of water. My eyes began to burn and an uncontrollable itch snaked up my elbow. I tried to scratch my arm as surreptitiously as possible and schooled my face so that no emotion showed.
I knew this gig was too good to be true.
“It’s okay.” Mrs. Freemont - Sharon – assured him and stood to give him a hug. “You wah live long, Andrew. We were just talking about you.”
She brought the big man into the room and I tried to duck deep into my chair.
“This,” Sharon said, pointing to my cowering figure, “Is Alexi Reyes, your animator.”
My eyes swept downward as my fingernails continued to scratch my wenis.
Haha… wenis.
I tuned back in to the conversation at hand after that immature mental detour.
“She has a Bachelors degree from NYU and she owns her own programming business right here in Belize.”
I glanced up in time to see Darcy’s eyebrows draw upward in surprise. I narrowed my eyes in reply. He didn’t have to look so astonished that I was capable of all that Sharon was raving about..
Geez, you woman-hating, backwards thinking fiend!
There was something about this guy that rubbed me the wrong way.
“We’ve met.” I explained, my voice coming out at a higher pitch than it usually did as I tried to restrain my dislike.
I cleared my throat, attempted to hold his blue-eyed gaze, found that I couldn’t, and looked away.
“How wonderful.” Sharon explained, “Archie’s mother is an old friend of mine and she was generous enough to convince Andrew to lend us his knowledge. With his experience in the total production of video games, and your talent for animation, Lexi, this summer’s programming will be a smashing success!”
She laughed aloud.
Well, at least someone’s enjoying themselves.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted and strategize. Lexi, when you’re done, go down to the Human Resources office to fill out some forms please and thank you.” She finished in a sing-song voice, waved at us and then left, closing the door behind her.
I stared at the shiny surface of the wooden table and scratched my fingernail against the wood. I smelt the faint scent of Pledge furnisher polish. Someone was using the best to clean this dead tree.
Drew cleared his throat and took a seat beside me. Again his expensive cologne tapped at the doors of my nostrils. I tried my best to prevent its entrance, but it invaded anyway. I sniffed deeply despite myself.
“So,” He folded his arms and leaned back in the swivel chair. The move was so fluid, I wondered if he’d choreographed it. If I ever tried to do something like that, I’d probably fall over. “You’re a programmer.”
I stiffened, waiting for a condescending comment.
“I am.”
He appraised me and I tried not to feel intimidated by his unrushed appraisal.
“You’re a video game developer?” I questioned.
He grinned.
“I am.”
An awkward silence descended and the beautiful day that I’d been celebrating just hours earlier was quickly invaded by winged monsters and dark clouds.
CHAPTER FIVE
I scratched the table top again and thought about pledging my own computer desk and kitchen table.
Maybe someday.
I wasn’t gung-ho when it came to housework. My mom hated coming over because she always ended up grabbing a broom and a mop and setting my apartment to rights.
“What kind of animated characters do you prefer?” Drew inquired when the silence had drawn on for about fifteen minutes.
“Between hand-drawn and computer?”
“Yeah,” He leaned forward.
I shook off my nervousness and responded with the confidence of my Bachelor’s degree and handful of anime productions.
“Computer. It’s easier, it’s cheaper, and I also can’t draw a monkey’s butt to save my life.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth as I realized that I’d just used the term ‘monkey’s butt’ in front of this very sophisticated man. I didn’t want to care about what this guy thought of me… but I also didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Andrew Darcy.
He seemed amused.
“Monkey’s butt?” He echoed.
“Yeah,” I tried to play it off as if that was what all the cool kids were saying nowadays.
“Have you worked with a cartoon project like this before?” I inquired.
He nodded, “I have. I prefer videogames, but there are many similarities between a cartoon series and a game. Some might argue that a game is more challenging, since it’s interactive.”
“Oh,” I said stupidly.
I had zero knowledge about videogames. Books and music were the poisons of choice in my household growing up. Melody pushed her Pride and Prejudice novel and our father forced us into a few years of torture in the form of piano lessons. Though I conformed to both, I preferred neither.
My pleasure of choice was sequestering myself in my room with my laptop and my collection of pirated animes.
“Do you play?”
“Piano?” I said aloud, wondering if he’d followed the train of my thoughts and felt the pain of years of unwanted music lessons.
He grinned and I wished I’d kept my goofy self at home. Where was the professional that had stepped out of the car this morning?
“Video games. Do you play video games?”
“No.” I confessed. “But not because I’m one of those people that think video games rot your brain.” I added.
“Oh, okay.” He replied, as if he were addressing a woman with a mental deficiency.
I glanced toward heaven and prayed for deliverance from this painful, awkward conversation.
“I had no idea you were the guy Sharon was going on and on about.”
Or I wouldn’t have agreed to this so easily.
I left that part unsaid.
“Yeah, I thought it would be fun. I’m here for a few weeks so why not help out the Belizean media team.”
“Right.” I nodded.
Once more silence descended.
I wanted to bang my head on the desk or drive home to my parent’s house and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s that Melody kept stocked there. Spencer was getting on her about it because sometimes my sister ate so much ice cream she made herself sick. Melody hid her stash at mom and dad’s, claiming that the secret was ‘preserving her marriage’.
How could I possibly work with this guy?
I knew that running away wasn’t an option anymore. I deserved to be here. This was my chance at fulfilling my purpose. The way I felt about my animation was the way Steve Jobs felt about his computers or the way Oprah felt about giving away cars.
I was supposed to do this and no handsome, pompous, blue-eyed man from America was going to keep me from it.
I squared my shoulders, straightened my back and swirled my chair to face him head-on. I summoned the courage of my seven year old self when I’d smacked Judah Nindinsow in the face, and addressed Andrew Darcy like a man… like a woman.
“Look,” I said firmly and I could tell that he was a little surprised by my direct address, “I don’t like you.”
His eyes widened but I continued on.
“And you don’t like me. That’s obvious. Unfortunately, we’re partners and I am more than capable of being professional and open-minded during this partnership.”
He nodded and then said slowly, “So am I.”
“Good. So let’s just jump in to the work and sk
ip all the getting to know you stuff.”
He shrugged, “Works for me.”
I narrowed my eyes at his easy acquiesce but decided not to pick a fight where there was none.
“Okay,” I opened Sharon’s file of ideas. Drew came near to survey the documents and I immediately became skittish. I gripped the page that I was surveying and glanced down at my jagged fingernails.
I was a nail biter. I wondered if Drew noticed and if it grossed him out.
No! I don’t care what Drew thinks of me.
“It seems like she’s interested in a show about a group of friends that travel Belize solving mysteries.”
He pointed to a paragraph and I zoned out as my mind focused on his well groomed, square hands. I tilted my head. They weren’t manicured hands. His nails were a naturally dull shade in his pale fingers.
“What do you think?” He asked me, his blue eyes so close to my face I could see myself in their clear reflection.
I swallowed.
What was wrong with me?
I need Ben & Jerry’s ASAP.
“I think… that’s a … great idea.” I said uncertainly.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I totally agree.”
“Cool.” He stood. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”
“Wait-what?” I shrieked.
He glanced curiously at me. “I have your information from Archie. I know where to find you.”
That sounded sort of ominous.
“Find me for what?”
Shoot, a girl dazes out on a guy’s hands for one second and she misses the part when she agreed to a date.
He frowned. “For someone who claims to be a professional, Lexi, you’re doing a terrible job at it.”
With that heartfelt phrase of love and encouragement, Andrew Darcy opened the door and carried his body and his ego through the threshold.
I stuck my tongue out at his straight back.
Meanie.
Standing stiffly as well, I walked slowly out of the conference room, giving Drew more than enough time to find his car and roll so I didn’t run into him by accident. I checked with a journalist about where to find HR, did my thing with signing contracts and agreements and then left.