Animate Me (6 page)

“You really don’t mind?”

Oh, let me help you, Brooke…please let me help you.

“Not at all. I’m done here in thirty minutes, and then I can come straight over if you want.”

“That’d be so great. I’ll run over to Whole Foods and get some stuff from their deli in case you want to stay and eat.”

I smile and silently fist pump the air, yet try to sound laid back. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

By the time she’s done giving me her address and instructions how to get there, I’m completely amped. It’s only day seven, and I get to see where she lives. If this isn’t serious progress, I don’t know what is.

When I get in my car though, I start to panic. I do the only thing I can think of and call my brother, Curtis.

“Hey, Bro, what’s up?” He sounds like he just woke up. He’s always following the stock market and doing weird deals at all hours, so his schedule is impossible to figure out.

“I’ve met someone. She’s the one.”

“The one? That’s awesome, dude! Tell all.”

“Her name is Brooke, and she’s perfect…smart, beautiful, sweet, and so sexy. And you won’t believe this; she loves cartoons, I mean really loves them.”

“No way. She sounds like your dream girl,” he laughs.

“She is. There’s just one issue.” I can hear the big lug breathing in the phone as he waits for my revelation. “She doesn’t know she’s the one.”

“Doesn’t know? Do you mean she isn’t ready for a commitment, ready to settle down yet?”

“No. Actually she has a boyfriend. She doesn’t like me that way…yet. We’re just becoming friends.”

His heavy breathing stops for a moment, and I can hear the concern in his silence. “Dude, that sounds a little fantasy land. I mean if she has a boyfriend, you shouldn’t go engagement ring shopping yet.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I can just feel that it’s going to happen. I’m headed to her place right now to fix her computer.”

“That’s not exactly a date, dude. You need to take a reality pill.”

My spirit is sagging, but I’m not giving up. “Before I get there, you just need to tell me. How can I win her over?”

There’s a long pause, and I can tell he’s thinking what to say.

“You need to be super chill. Don’t let her think you like her—just that you want to be friends. Be a good friend to her, but don’t pressure her. That’s the best thing you can do in this situation.”

“You think that will work?” I ask anxiously.

“Well, how are things with her boyfriend?”

“I can’t tell, really. They’ve been together for a while, but they seem to live separate lives.”

“Well, you can try to give her whatever he doesn’t.”

That idea rings true in my mind. My brother’s smart, and he has always seemed to understand the female species. He’s had a good track record with some really cool women.

“Okay I’ll try that. Hey, thanks.”

“Sure, I’ll see you at the house tomorrow. Meanwhile good luck with
the one
.”

It’s only a few miles from quiet Burbank to Brooke’s condo in the Hollywood Hills, but it feels like another world. With Brooke’s perfect instructions, I wind my way up the narrow roads and park my Mini-Cooper with the tires turned all the way towards the curb. All I need is for the parking brake to give out and my car to slide down the hill. After I shut the car off, I take a minute to calm myself, taking deep breaths as I rest my hands on my knees.

Each of the four units appears to have their own entrance, and when I ring the bell just outside of Brooke’s wrought iron gate, she buzzes me in. Her front patio is paved in terra cotta tiles. Her wooden door, like the rest of the exterior finishes, is Mediterranean in style. There’s a wild menagerie of potted plants and a little sitting area. It looks cozy and peaceful, and I wonder if Brooke spends much time out here.

When she pulls open the door, she’s backlit from the sun pouring in through her huge picture windows. Her hair is down now, loose around her face, and instead of the yoga pants, she has on a skirt in a vintage-looking fabric. She steps forward and pulls me into a big hug. I try to hug her back without seeming too stiff and awkward, and her warmth and sweet scent surrounds me.

“Thanks for coming. I was about to pull my hair out.”

“Don’t pull your hair out,” I exclaim as we pull apart. “You’ve got beautiful hair. Besides, I’m more than happy to help.”

“Do you want something to drink first?”

“Some water would be great.” I follow her into her kitchen where she pulls a glass that looks hand-blown out of the cupboard. While she pours the water, I step over to her kitchen desk, noticing the collage of postcards and artwork on the bulletin board. I’m also intrigued by a collection of antique lady head vases lining the back edge of the desk, the holes in their wide brim hats holding miscellaneous markers, pencils and scissors. They have actual little strings of pearls around their necks and dangling from their little ceramic ears.

“Those are cool,” I comment. “Where’d you get them?”

“I used to go to the Rose Bowl swap meet, but now mainly from Ebay. Arnauld doesn’t like flea markets. Do you collect stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m a collector,” I confirm.
If she only knew.
My figurines and vinyl doll collections have taken over my living room. “Ebay is addictive, but it certainly takes the adventure out of the hunt.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she says intently. “We should go flea market shopping one day. It’d be fun to go with another collector.”

“That’d be great,” I agree, remembering Curtis’ advice. I look back to the bulletin board and notice a photograph of her and Arnauld, and something occurs to me. I suddenly straighten up. “Is Arnauld here?”

“No, he went with his buddies to Vegas this weekend. Regardless, he doesn’t live here. We have separate places.”

“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.”