Текст книги "Animate Me"
Автор книги: Ruth Clampett
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ILLUSTRATIONS BY JUAN ORTIZ
Except Chapter Three by Vince Musacchia and
Chapter Thirty-One by the author
Cover illustration by Juan Ortiz
Photography by David Johnston
Design Jada D’Lee
Models: Erik Odom & Anais Mendoza
Copyright © 2013 by Ruth Clampett. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
First Electronic Edition: April 2013
For my Dad who taught me to set my imagination free
and that an artist needs to takes risks with a brave heart.
For my Mom who showed me that strength of character
and kindness will lift you out of darkness.
But most of all for my daughter, Alex
my inspiration, my best girl.
From the day you were born I knew
we would share a brilliant journey.
Your shine has led the way.
Table of Contents
Chapter One – I’m in Love
Chapter Two – Chivalry 101
Chapter Three – Buttering Her Up
Chapter Four – Goodbye Geek World
Chapter Five – Closed for Business
Chapter Six – Yoga Pants
Chapter Seven – I am Clark Kent
Chapter Eight – Hearts Unfolding
Chapter Nine – Extra-Special Best Friends
Chapter Ten – Right Girl, Wrong Time
Chapter Eleven – Man With a Tux
Chapter Twelve – A Very Small Banana
Chapter Thirteen – And the Award Goes to…
Chapter Fourteen – A School-Night Sleepover
Chapter Fifteen – A New Man
Chapter Sixteen – Santa, the Easter Bunny and Brooke
Chapter Seventeen – Magic Jeans
Chapter Eighteen – How to Woo a Girl
Chapter Nineteen – Stalking 101
Chapter Twenty – A Two-Way Woo
Chapter Twenty-One – Master of the Woo
Chapter Twenty-Two – Indy Gets His Princess
Chapter Twenty-Three – Animal Style
Chapter Twenty-Four – The End of the Woo
Chapter Twenty-Five – What’s Mine is Yours?
Chapter Twenty-Six – Calling on Wonder Woman
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Persuasion
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Home Delivery
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Wounded Soldiers
Chapter Thirty – Making Magic
Chapter Thirty-One – A Picket Fence and Pixar
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Animate Me / Chapter One / I’m in Love
an-i-mate verb ’a-ne-met 1. to bring to life 2. To give spirit and vigor to 3. To make appear to move for a cartoon
T here you go with the breasts too big again.
I rub my eraser over the sketchbook page and brush the crumbs away before reworking my lines over the ghosted image. With each stroke of the pencil my dream girl comes to life, her heart-shaped face graced with huge blue eyes and plump bow lips.
Oh, how I want to kiss those lips
My pencil trails down to define her shapely thighs leading up to her small waist, just below the finale of her perfect breasts. I erase the rough sketch lines under the final clean pencil. Yes…there, she’s just right. I may not be so comfortable talking to girls, but I sure know how to draw them. I hold my sketchbook up to admire her before setting it down next to the cash register.
At least I’m over my huge-breast obsession. Holy hell, during the months where I had newly discovered online porn I just kept drawing them bigger and bigger. If those girls had been real, they would have toppled over. Picasso had his blue period; I had my breast period. Eventually I got bored with the mechanical episodes of online porn. Now I’ve matured to studying vintage pin-up girls and reading graphic novels that still leave something to the imagination. As a result, my work is more refined, well, not really…but at least in that regard. My girls are safe from toppling over now.
Hearing a cough, I push my glasses up my nose and look over at the kid still transfixed in the new release section of the Playstation 3 aisle. He handles each cellophane-wrapped game like it’s a treasure, a sacred gift from the video game gods. I have a fondness for this kid, Theo, who comes to the store every Saturday while his mom gets a manicure on the other end of the strip mall. He reminds me of myself at that age, a social misfit who couldn’t look people in the eye. Now I chat with customers when I ring up their purchases. This is certainly progress for a guy like me who didn’t start talking until he was four.
I let Theo fondle the packages knowing full well that he hasn’t saved enough allowance to make a purchase this week. He blew his wad last Saturday on the latest Dragon Age release. When a car honks just outside the door, he turns to me and waves.
“See you next week, Nathan,” he calls out before he runs through the door and slips into his mom’s SUV.
When I was his age, I spent my Saturdays with my parents at my brother Curtis’ various sporting events, grateful to have my sketchbook and pencils while I sat through hour after tedious hour of games. I learned early on how to get lost in the page and create worlds in my head where I could escape. Nothing’s changed, just now I’m getting paid to draw as a studio animator, and I sure as heck don’t have to go to sports games.
I pull out my colored pencils and start back in on my drawing when the door rings indicating a new customer. I look up in time to see a flash of female before she heads down one of the side aisles. A rush of adrenaline surges through me.
No…it couldn’t be. Not her. She is not here shopping at Jimmy’s Geek World. Impossible. No.
I close my eyes and count backwards from ten to try to calm myself. Around four, I give up and lean forward to see if my imagination was playing tricks on me.
She steps into the center aisle and strides towards me in slow motion, the sway of her hips distracting me from her black leather boots that lace all the way up to her knees. She has on a short pleated skirt and a vintage looking T-shirt with faded type that says The Sex Pistols. I sway and grab the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“Hey,” she calls out with the bow lips parted just so. “Can you help me?” Her long auburn hair looks like spun silk and cascades down her back like those happy girls in shampoo commercials.
Can I help you? I repeat to myself, confused. Brooke Tobin, the woman of my dreams, my obsession from afar, appears to need me. I note that this is where my fantasy usually starts, before it ends with me fondling her in the stockroom. Today it is real and I must rise to the occasion.
“Sure, what can I help you with?” I cringe. My response is a little too enthusiastic but she seems unfazed. I can tell she has no idea who I am.
“I need a cord thingy for my computer, and I’m not sure which one.”
Thingy? I smile as I step out from behind the counter and move authoritatively towards the thingy section. “Do you need a USB?”
“What’s that?” She arches her brow and folds her arms like I’ve asked about a sexually transmitted disease instead of her port entries.
“A USB cord? The USB connection simplifies the process of connecting peripherals to the computer and offers much higher data transfer rates.” I push my thick, black–framed glasses back up my nose hoping she’s impressed.
Her hands move to her hips, and she steps closer then leans towards my chest. My breath catches until I realize that she is reading my name printed on the lip of my pocket protector.
“Na-than?” she half questions, half confirms. “I think now’s a good time to tell you that I don’t speak tech geek. Can you give it to me straight so I’ll know what you’re talking about? I just want a cord thingy so I can hook my old computer to my new one.”
Considering my track record with impressing women, I shouldn’t be surprised that she doesn’t appreciate my vast technological know-how. Looking down at my feet, I desperately wish the phone would ring or something so I could step away for a moment and gather my thoughts, but the store is quiet as a tomb.
I’ve imagined talking and being with her for so long that my misstep has me unraveling. I don’t want to mess up my one big chance to make a favorable impression. I fear she’s already concluded I’m a freak.
When I look back up she has a broad grin on her face. “Cord thingy, Nathan?”
I reach for the USB’s. “This is probably what you need. Do you know if it is a male to male connection?”
“I highly doubt it. Not my computer,” she snickers.
Oh God, she thinks I’m being suggestive with her. I want to disappear. Where’s my cloak of invisibility? I try to regain my composure.
“Well, you can always try this, and if it doesn’t work you can bring it back,” I offer.
She twists a lock of hair with her perfect fingers and considers what I’ve said. “Okay.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope that’s it.”
We move towards the register. Sensing she’s right behind me, I can smell her perfume, subtle and quiet like pears on a summer morning.
She pulls a wallet with a dangling Hello Kitty charm out of her little purse with the really long strap. “How much do I owe you?”
“Twelve forty-nine,” I respond after double-checking the register’s screen.
When she starts to set her money down I realize that my sketchbook’s still open. I yank it off the counter so fast that the pencil and eraser take flight. Then I snap the book closed before she has time to really study the image.
She tips her head sideways. “Was that your drawing?”
“Yes,” I mumble.
“Are you an artist?”
I can’t lie. She may recognize me at work now. “Yeah…well, actually, I’m an animator.”
She lights up, her eyes bright and happy. “Really? I work in animation.”
“I know. I work at Sketch Republic too. You’re Brooke in development, right?”
Good, that sounded cool…believable—like I don’t dream about her all day and draw her naked late at night.
“Oh, you work there too. Sorry I didn’t recognize you. Yes, I’m in development even though what I really wanted was to be an animator. I just didn’t have the talent for it so I focused on what I’m good at. What show are you on?”
“Bernie and the Beaver Patrol with Joel’s team. My buddy, Nicholas, is the head writer.”
“Oh, I love Nick,” she enthuses. “He’s so damn funny.”
“Yeah, everyone loves him—he’s a riot,” I grumble jealously.
“So what are you doing here?” she asks, waving her arm across the rows of games and accessories. “Don’t we pay you enough? I thought animators did pretty well.”
“Oh, it’s not that. My friend’s dad owns the place, and I’ve been helping them out while their manager is out for a few months recovering from knee surgery. I’ve only been doing it on Saturdays.”
She nods. “Well, show me your work.” She reaches for the sketchbook. “Are you good?”
I quickly step back, making my sketchbook out of her reach. “I’m really good,” I state confidently. After all, it’s the one thing I know for sure. I have talent; all my CalArts teachers told me so, and I got a studio job right out of school. “I’d love to show you my work, but this is just my scribbling. I want to show you the good stuff.”
She puts her hand up. “Okay, when you’re ready, I’d be happy to look at your work. You know where to find me.”
Yes, I’d be happy to find you. If she only knew how long I’ve admired her.
“Will you remember me if I ask to show you another time? I mean, you must see a lot of artists’ work.”
Her lips curl up with delight. “Yes, I’m very sure I’ll remember you, Nathan. You’re pretty distinct.”
I dig my wallet out of my back pocket, open it, then pull out the colorful rectangle. “Here, let me give you my card just in case.” I feel suddenly grateful to my dad who taught me to always carry business cards because you just never knew when opportunity would strike.
It curls ever so slightly in her palm as she holds it close to read. She flips it over and studies the art on the back. “Nice card,” she affirms before sliding it into her wallet.
“Thanks,” I respond, trying to read every shade of her expression.
She looks up at me and studies me for a moment. “So what’s with the bowtie? Is this a fashion statement?”
I can feel my face get red as I reach up and touch the bowtie that is sewn into my polo shirt. “No, this is the uniform. Can you believe it? And just in case the employees don’t look geeky enough, this outfit seals the deal. We can’t even wear jeans. It’s high-waisted corduroy pants or twill slacks only. When my friend’s dad, the owner, is here, he makes us tuck in our shirts.”
“Oh, that’s priceless!” she says. “It reminds me of those wild outfits the girls wear at Hot Dog on a Stick.”
“You don’t really think I’d wear a pocket protector of my own volition do you?”
“I wasn’t sure. It’s actually kind of sexy in a weird way. I bet you pick up some interesting hotties in that get-up. I bet there’s one waiting for you in the back room.”
My imagination comes to life as I think of Brooke in the back room.
“Yeah, we better hurry this up so she doesn’t get jealous,” I reply with a smile, pleased that I’m bantering. That book I read on how to talk to women seems to be paying off.
“What’s she wearing…your hottie in the backroom?” Brooke is very provocative.
“Not much.”
She laughs. God, I love her laugh.
“Is she tied up?”
This isn’t helping tame the fantasies I already have about her. Jesus, hold it together man. “Maybe.” I cough nervously.
“You animators are all pervy,” she snickers. “I love it.”
She suddenly gets a look in her eyes and leans in closer. “You know you have great teeth. I’m really into teeth…for about five minutes in high school I thought about going to dental school. But when I realized that I wouldn’t just be in sexy mouths like yours I dropped the idea immediately.”
“Thank you.” I smile broadly so that my teeth are showcased nicely. Her off-handed comment about being in my sexy mouth is creating some wild visuals in my head, but I try to refocus.
She appears to like, or at least tolerate geeks, and she definitely likes my teeth. I’m on her radar now, so winning her heart, although unlikely, is no longer up against insurmountable odds. Now it would just be equivalent to winning the lottery and people win the lottery all the time…right?
She reaches toward me to take the bag and her change. “So maybe I’ll see you at work.”
“Yeah, let me know if your connections work…you know the male to female thing.”
Her resulting smile would melt glaciers, and I feel my heart swell inside my chest. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. I swear this is love; what else could it possibly be? I want to pull her into my arms and never let her go.
“I’ll do that,” she says, then turns on her heel and walks towards the door.
I watch every move, committing it to memory…my fingers itching to wrap around a pencil and capture her on paper so that she’ll always be with me.
Her pale, slender hand reaches for the door, and as she pulls it open she turns back toward me, self-assured enough to know that I’m still watching her. “You know, Nathan, don’t let the cool clothes fool you. Deep down I’m a fan-girl geek…always have been, always will be. All my favorite people are too. Us geeks are the cool ones, because we are who we are; we don’t try to be anyone else. Right?”
Although I am doubtful of her declaration, I nod and smile at her before she steps from the shadow of the doorway into the sun. The girl I adore glows in the warm light, brighter than anyone else passing by. As she shimmers and moves away I realize that there is no question in my mind, even if it defies logic or reason.
I am in love.
Animate Me / Chapter Two / Chivalry 101
“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” “Yes Brain, but why does the chicken cross the road if not for love?” ~Pinky and the Braini
I pull into the parking garage and scan the reserved spots looking for Brooke’s metallic, pale-green Prius. I usually come in before her, and today is no exception. Yet this morning the feeling of seeing her empty spot is different. Now that we’ve made a connection, I feel protective of her, curious about where she is and what she’s doing.
It occurs to me that she could be with that idiot Arnauld, who she’s rumored to be dating. The jealous beast roars inside of me. Arnauld’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve the perfection that is Brooke. I notice his space is empty as well, and my stomach tenses as I realize that there is every possibility that they are together right now: in the final throes of morning sex, or soaped up and showering together, or perhaps arguing as to who finished off the last of the milk for their Lucky Charms. Damn him.
I sigh heavily as I blend into the group of employees streaming out of the parking structure and marching towards the building.
I feel so different today as I go through the main entrance and walk past the neon-lit Sketch Republic sign. I am different; I want something now that I gave up wanting a long time ago. The idea of wrapping my arms around a girl and kissing her has suddenly become tangible. I want Brooke to be that girl, and that feeling’s like stretchy cellophane pulled tightly around me.
So when I reach my desk, I’m grateful to have a challenging scene to work on. For all the exuberance of animation, it’s an exacting process that requires complete concentration. I’m hoping this focus will keep me from obsessing about Brooke, but I’m doubtful.
Joel likes to assign the most physical scenes to me because he says I’m old school Tex Avery in my animation style—adopting the master’s stretch and squash flair. This week’s assignment involves a fight between Bucky and Bernie Beaver after Bernie breaks Bucky’s video game remote control. Before I start, I picture in my mind what I want to do with the characters.
I may be a quiet guy on the outside, but my work is always full of energy and expression. A surprised eye may stretch a foot long, or an open mouth’s jaw can drop to the ground. I sharpen my pencil, attach the animation paper to the pegs on the light table, and fall into my work. All of my anxiety and excitement flows through my pencil, and the resulting drawings are particularly energetic.
“Hey dude, what’s up?” Joel leans into my cubicle, and I look up at my desk clock to realize it’s almost noon. I peel out my earbuds while pulling a drawing from the stack that I know he’ll like.
“Is this what you had in mind for this scene?” Bucky has hit Bernie over the head with the broken remote, and now it’s lodged in his forehead like a horn. Bernie’s eyes are large X’s and Bucky’s smile extends freakishly past the edges of his pointed face.
“Oh, yeah,” he howls. “That’s perfect! You always make it even better than I’ve pictured it, Tex.”
Referring to me as animation great Tex Avery is a sure sign that he’s getting ready to ask for something. He usually isn’t so complimentary, and I can hear it in his voice. I raise my eyebrows and tip my head waiting.
“Listen, no pressure or anything but management is demanding all the animators do seven feet this week since we are behind schedule.”
The news is worse than I thought. “Damn, that’s over forty drawings a day. We aren’t a factory pumping out widgets.”
“Sorry. Arnauld is all over my ass because I wanted to redo that scene last week. I’ll bring lunch in for you guys today.”
I tense up and pop my earbuds back in. That jerk, Arnauld. He always expects us to work faster and get the work done cheaper. “All right, well then I better pick up the pace.”
By the afternoon my whole body is stiff from bending over the table, and I realize it’s almost four o’clock. This is our magic Starbucks time when a group of us walk over to refuel on caffeine to get us through the rest of the day. The bunch gathers near the elevator and then we pack in when it arrives. I’m squashed in the back corner with rotund Andy, in his Elmo for President T-shirt, pressing into me.
Nick groans loudly when the elevator stops at the next floor. My heart surges though when the doors part and Brooke is revealed with her hands on her hips, focused on figuring out how she will fit into the overcrowded space.
“Come on Brooke, we won’t bite,” Nick teases, as he steps to the side and she slides in next to Genna.
“Yeah sure,” she responds. “Last time this happened, I ended up with a ‘fragile’ sticker on my ass.”
“Well, that wouldn’t have been me, darling. You’re one tough cookie—anything but fragile.”
She smiles at him. “So where are all of you going anyway?” she asks, craning her neck and scanning the group.
“Our afternoon Starbucks run,” he responds. “It’s the only way we can survive the tedium of this animation chain gang.”
“Oh, you poor, poor animators!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Go work at Disney then. They serve Starbucks in the break rooms. Of course that means you may have to do Mickey Mouse and that princess stuff.”
“No!” yells out crazy Andy, like he’s just been stabbed in the gut. “Anything but that!”
“Well, why am I not invited on these coffee runs, huh? Are you too good for me?” Brooke asks.
“Look, guys, the development queen wants to hang with the hired help. Well, come with us, your majesty,” says Nick.
She frowns. “I can’t. I have a meeting. A really, really important meeting.”
“Uh huh…” he says playfully.
“Your job may depend on me being at this meeting. No worries though, our mutual caffeine fulfillment is far more important.”
Nick turns to Andy. “See…she’s such a tease. And I bet she drinks one of those stupid drinks too, like a half-caf soy caramel macchiato with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla and a Splenda very, very gently stirred in.”
“Three pumps,” she responds before she makes a grand exit when the door opens on the second floor. My eyes bug out as she steps out to head down the hallway. Her slacks hug her round bottom perfectly, and she turns back with a pivot to look in the car. Our eyes meet for a moment and she smiles, recognizing me. “Later, kids,” she says happily before she turns away. My heart is thundering like a tribal drum.
Everyone’s chattering so much in line that they don’t seem to notice until we are almost back to the studio that I’m holding two drinks.
“Are you double fisting these days?” Nick asks, studying my two cups.
“No,” I say, blushing. “This one’s for someone else.”
“Really?” Nick asks in an exaggerated voice. “And who, pray tell, would that be?”
“Ooooo,” taunts Kevin.
“Does Nathan have a secret luva?” Andy taunts.
“I didn’t think you wanted people to know about us, Andy,” I respond. Since he is the only one without a coffee, he’s the perfect foil. His purchase was a huge brownie that he usually washes down with his jumbo Coke left over from lunch.
“Ha! Gotcha,” Kevin laughs and smirks at me. “So you’re his secret luva taking the place of his life-size vinyl doll?”
Danielle’s eyes grow wide as we step back into the elevator. “He has one of those vinyl life-size dolls? Yucko!”
“You said it,” Nick agrees. “I wouldn’t put my prize in one of those things.”
“Hey, don’t knock the doll, dude,” Andy responds. “She’s really good to me.”
“We should all pitch in and get Nathan one,” Kevin responds. “You two could double date!”
Thankfully Nick moves off topic and starts talking about the latest botched recording where the voice artist doing Bernie showed up coked out. While they’re distracted, I slip away, grateful for an excuse to escape their torture. I head towards the executive offices, and when I see Brooke’s, I notice that her assistant is away from her desk so I boldly step inside. I’m so nervous I’m trembling, but a flash of courage comes over me, and I go with it.
Her office is large, with a sitting area including a large couch. Maybe one day I’ll sit there next to her, I happily imagine. The couch faces huge windows that look over the Forest Lawn Mortuary and part of the Warner Bros. back lot. As I step closer to the window to check out the view, I notice something different about her office compared to the other executives I’ve seen. Instead of large framed posters on the walls of Sketch Republic’s productions, she has an eclectic gathering of art in styles that look familiar to me. As I step closer, I realize that they are original works from some of our staff artists. How cool. I wish she had one of mine up, too. I also notice a print I’ve never seen before from one of my favorite animated movies from another studio. My girl must have a bit of rebel in her, I suspect, grinning. No idiotic Bernie the Beaver posters in here.
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.
