Animate Me (3 page)

It brings me back to the beginning of my infatuation with Brooke. About two years ago, we were at our monthly company meeting in the building’s auditorium/screening theater, and Brooke got up to talk about projects in development to our group of over four hundred employees. It was immediately apparent how smart and clever she was, but it was the warmth in her voice as she talked about the artists and new characters that impressed me so much. I’d never met an executive who seemed to be an actual fan of the work we do. It’s not unusual to have young executives in animation, but Brooke was like fresh air blowing through the place. From that moment on, I paid attention to everything I heard and observed about her.

My growing impression was that she was the coolest girl ever…not just at Sketch Republic, or in Los Angeles, but the coolest girl in the entire world. As a result, my infatuation went from a wispy shadow on an overcast day to a sharp electrical current surging through me. I did a Google search and Facebooked her. I sat enraptured when she spoke at the monthly meeting. I even searched for satellite pictures of her house, hoping to see her stretched out on the chaise lounge in her back yard as we voyeuristically soared over her hillside condo.

Snapping out of my revelry, it suddenly occurs to me that Brooke could walk back in here any moment and see me stalking. Anxious to complete my task, I take out a black Sharpie from my pocket and write her name on the cup. It looks so ordinary, so I draw a little caricature of her face, which essentially is my B-Girl character. Right as I am about to set it on her desk I hear the rustle of papers.

“Well, hello, Nathan,” she says happily. “What’s up?”

“I brought you your coffee,” I respond, trying not to blush. “I mean, I know you wanted to come with us but you had a meeting, so I thought I’d get it for you.”

“That’s the sweetest thing ever,” she says. “Thank you. So that
was
you in the back of the elevator. I almost didn’t recognize you without your bow tie and pocket protector.” She grins, and I shyly smile back.

“Yeah, that was me.”

“I just stepped out of the meeting to get my projections.” She reaches over and pulls a folder off her desk. I’m mesmerized by her every movement, and the sound of her silver bracelets clinking together is music to my ears.

She’s a bit taller today. The boots she’s wearing under her slacks must have higher heels as she almost comes up to my chin now. My vision drifts to her delicate neck where a fine chain weaves along her pale skin before falling into the wide neckline of her floaty top. I can’t help but notice that when she bends forward to reach a second folder placed further away on her desk, her shirt falls away from her body. It’s just long enough for me to get a glimpse of her bra and the top part of her beautiful breasts. I blink nervously.

Folders retrieved, she straightens then lifts up the coffee to take a sip. As she squeezes the cup some foam oozes out onto the lid. In slow motion I watch her tongue slide out between her rosebud lips and lick the foam off the lid with a flourish.

“Mmmm,” she sighs.

Oh, her pink, wet, perfect tongue!
Between the foam lick and seeing her breasts, I am undone. My blood starts pooling where I don’t want it to, and of course, the beast comes to life.

I casually try to hold my coffee cup low like a paper shield covering what’s happening in my jeans. Thank God my coffee’s a Venti.

She looks up at me, smiling, and raises her drink. “If Arnauld saw you got me this, he would insist that you’re flirting with me, but I think you’re just a really nice guy. Which is it?”

Turning beet red, I sway a bit before I drop my Sharpie and scurry around to try to find it on the floor. By the time I straighten up, she seems to have decided not to press me for an answer.

“Well, whatever the reason, thanks so much.” She reaches over and grasps my arm for a moment. “I think you’re cool. I’ve got to get back to the meeting, but let’s talk again, okay?”

“Sure.” I smile big enough to show my teeth and her eyes twinkle knowingly. I grin all the way back to my cube.

Of course when I get there I discover a surprise taped to the front of my computer. It’s a caricature of me looking particularly geeky with an arrow coming out of my butt cheek. The fast rough sketch has my eyes rolling like I’ve lost my mind. A flying cherub with Andy’s ugly face is holding a bow with one hand and fist pumping victoriously with the other. There are hearts floating around my head. Scrawled at the top are the words,
Nathan’s in Love
.

I look around to see if I can figure out who’s in on the joke. Did someone see me take the coffee to Brooke? I think it’s Kevin’s work, but I can’t be sure. All that surrounds me is radio silence.
Damn crazy animators
, I silently curse knowing I can’t say much really since I’m one of the group and have done many such drawings of them.

I carefully peel off the sketch and place it in my lower drawer where all the good stuff goes. This one, as infuriating as it is, is a keeper. After all, satire and caricatures work so well because of the truth behind them.

• • •

The next day’s coffee run is uneventful, and this time no one questions the second cup. When I get to Brooke’s office, her assistant eyes me suspiciously, but I explain that I’m just dropping off her coffee. When I step into the doorway, Brooke looks up and smiles.

“For me again?”

“Sure, it’s no big deal…really,” I assure her, trying to play it cool. Suddenly it occurs to me…
what if I’m bothering her?

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t want it?” I ask, trying not to look crestfallen.

“Oh, it’s not that; I just don’t want to take advantage of your kindness,” she says with a wink and a sexy smile.

Is she flirting with me?

My stomach flip-flops as I try to think how to respond. Then I remember a line I heard once.

“Okay, I’ll make an agreement. I’ll only do it when I want to.”

Hey, that sounded smooth.
I smile as I shift nervously from foot to foot, watching for her reaction.

She smiles at me then lifts the cup to study today’s drawing of her.

This time I’ve sketched her on the cup with a “B” on her chest like Superman’s “S” and a cape flapping behind her.

“How did you know I was a superhero?” she asks teasingly. “That’s top secret information.”

“Well, I’m one too, so of course I sensed it with my super powers.”

“Yes, of course,” she agrees, playing along. “How’s the show coming along?”

“Oh fine. We got stuck with extra footage this week but it’s do-able. At least I like this script…it’s got good timing and some really funny stuff.”

“That’s great,” she responds happily.

Wow, this is like a real conversation.

Then there’s an awkward moment of silence as my mind races with what to say next. “By the way,” I stammer, pointing at the print above her desk. “I love your
Iron Giant
artwork. It’s a great design with the cold-war propaganda look. I am a huge fan of that film and Brad Bird, the director.”

“Oh, me, too,” she agrees. “You know I worked with him on
The Incredibles
when I first got started in the business.”

We easily fall into a conversation about Brad and his brilliance. I’m doing great until I realize that I’m doing great and that makes me clam up again. She senses I’m struggling, but she seems confused as to why I’m trying so hard.

I look down at my shoes as I desperately try to figure out what to say next. Defeated, I finally give up.

“Well, I better get back to work. “

“Okay, thanks again, Nathan.”

• • •

That night, after my dinner of nachos and carrot sticks, I make a list of things to talk to Brooke about so I’m better prepared for our next meeting:

1. Are you from L.A.?
   
2. Do you like living in L.A.? This can lead into the loaded question:
   
3. Do you have a roommate? If she’s vague I can ask more directly:
   
4. Is Arnauld your roommate?
   Scratch that. You can’t ask her that…Besides, these questions are forgettable. You want her to remember you.
   

I start again.

1. Do you have any tattoos?
   
2. Do you like Halloween?
   
3. What cartoon character are you most like?
   
4. Does Arnauld remind you of Homer Simpson?
   Scratch that…I don’t want to come off like an asshole.
   
5. Do clowns frighten you?
   
6. What’s your favorite ride at Disneyland?
   
7. Do you like nachos?
   

This leads to me imaging Brooke eating nachos with me, and I become too distracted to finish the list. Just the idea of the melted cheese on her fingers and watching the salsa trail over her lips gets me so worked up that I have to take my shower earlier than usual.

• • •

The next afternoon I do a more elaborate drawing of Brooke on her Starbucks cup. She’s charming as usual and there’s a cute little gremlin character from the new show she developed perched on her shoulder.

I dress a little nicer today, wearing my newer jeans and the green button-down shirt that my Mom says matches my eyes. I even cleaned the dust off my Chucks before I left the house, all with the hope of impressing Brooke.

This time her assistant rolls her eyes as I approach, but she doesn’t stop me from going right into Brooke’s office.

“Special delivery!” I say cheerfully since she’s looking tense.

Brooke glances up. “Oh, hey, thanks so much for the coffee. I can really use it. It’s been a crazy day, and I’m worn out. Please, at least let me pay for it.”

“No” I insist, feigning offense at the suggestion. “I’ve been taking a class on chivalry, so this is coursework. You’re helping me out actually.”

“Really? And where does one take such a course?”

“Chivalry University. It’s up in the attic of this building. They do it for the artists because we are typically so bad at this stuff.” I’m impressed with the crap I can make up on the fly like this.

“Really? What other classes are you taking up there?”

“Conversation skills,” I offer, hoping she will never know exactly how much I could use such a class. “Here, can I practice with you? I’m trying to learn to talk to someone besides animators.”

“Sure, I’ve got a minute. I’m all yours,” she says encouragingly.

I think for a moment about how she talks to Nick, and I realize that she’s being gentle with me…as if I needed another reason to love her. My mind reels over the previous night’s list, but I’m flustered so I say the first thing that pops into my head.

“What’s your favorite ride at Disneyland?”

“Okay, that’s a little random, but let me see…I’d have to say Haunted Mansion. What’s yours?”

“Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride,” I reply without a pause. “The imagery and color is trippy…that ride always freaks me out. In a good way…I mean.”

“Well, that’s an unusual choice.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not your typical kinda guy.”

She smiles and tips her head, waiting to see if I’ll ask anything else.

The next question slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. “So, is Arnauld really your boyfriend?”

She looks slightly amused. “Well, have you been listening to the rumor mill or was that a question this University gave you as part of their coursework?”

“Maybe a little of both, why?”

“Just curious. Yes, Arnauld and I are involved. I must warn you: typically you would wait until we are closer friends before you ask those kinds of personal questions.”

“Okay, that’s good to know,” I stammer, trying to recover from my faux pas.
Damn, and I was doing so well.
I mentally flog myself.

She waits, sensing my anxiety and kindly tries to help me recover by teasing me to get the conversation going again. “So, since we are all over the place with the questions, do you also want to know what I had for breakfast, or the name of my childhood pet?”

“My technique’s that bad, huh?” I smile, embarrassed. All I can hope for at this point is that she thinks my goofiness is charming.

“Well, let’s just say you could use some tutoring in that class.”

I shrug my shoulders and nod. “Thanks for letting me practice on you.”

She leans in closer to me and gently squeezes my arm. “You know, you shouldn’t be nervous to talk to me. I’m not going to bite you. I’m just a girl—an ordinary girl who happens to love cartoons.”

Does she have any idea what those words do to me?
There’s nothing ordinary about you, Brooke
.

She smiles at me as she reaches for her pad and the coffee. “It’s been fun chatting, but I’ve got a pitch to go hear. Thanks again for the coffee.”

“Sure, see you later,” I manage to say evenly before wandering out of her office. I start to panic on the way back to production so I stop in the bathroom to try to gather myself.

Damn, why did I ask about Arnauld? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I have to act like such a loser?

As I splash water on my face and take several deep breaths, something comes over me. I arc over the sink, and when I finally rise up I catch my reflection. Underneath the dripping water and pale complexion, there is a look of fierce determination. It’s all clear to me in that moment. Screw Arnauld, and everyone at Sketch Republic who doubts me.