Текст книги "Animate Me"

Автор книги: Ruth Clampett

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Animate Me / Chapter Twenty-Four / The End of the Woo

“They can’t order me to stop dreaming.” Cinderella^xxiii

The next morning, Brooke wakes up and looks troubled.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stroking her cheek.

“It’s our last day of woo week,” she says sadly.

She has no idea how the dread of tomorrow is creeping up my spine.

“Don’t remind me. I don’t want it to end. Let’s not end it…let’s just keep it going,” I reply, trying to sound upbeat.

She smiles softly. I can tell there’s nothing she’d like more. “By the way, I’m making dinner for you tonight,” she informs me.

“Really? You’re cooking?” I guess the look of disbelief on my face is a bit off-putting.

“Watch it!” she warns me. “I can cook…I can bring home the bacon and fry it in the pan, you know.”

I smile at her. “And I love that I’m learning that about you.”

“Besides,” she continues. “I haven’t wooed you enough. You deserve a lot of woo, world-class woo.”

My girl wants to woo me. I reach over and gently squeeze her hand.

“Okay, Ms. Woo, dazzle me.”

When I leave her place it hurts to drive away. It’s a physical pain, like I’m being pulled apart. Everything feels wrong the whole way home.

So I spend my afternoon with B-Girl, doing the digital color work over the inked lines for the new issue. I’m going to hate when I get so busy that I’ll have to give up this part of the process, because every time I color in a page, I feel like I’m bringing B-Girl to life.

It’s not long now before Brooke meets her. However nervous that makes me, I know in my heart she’ll adore her just as I do. B-Girl is the physical manifestation of my love and admiration for her. I think Brooke also understands by now that with her strength, kind heart and goodness she’ll always be a super hero to me.

• • •

Incredibly impatient to be with her again, I break Curtis’s dating law and show up early for our dinner. Instead of peonies, I’ve brought roses from my garden, and a bottle of red wine. When she opens the door she’s barefoot and wearing an apron, her cheeks flushed.

“I thought I’d come a little early and help,” I offer as I step inside.

“I bet it’s because you missed me so much you couldn’t stay away,” she teases.

“Am I that obvious?”

She turns and kisses me.

“Yeah,” she acknowledges laughing. “It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you.”

She directs me to open the wine while she stirs and fusses over the stove. The salad and garlic bread require her attention as well. After I pour the Chianti, she lets me taste the Bolognese sauce. It’s so good that I moan happily, and she grins. My girl can cook…damn.

For a moment I glance around and wonder if she’ll let me move in…like, tonight. With Brooke, wherever she is, is where I want to be.

She makes me wait while she carries everything outside to the patio. The last thing she does is take my roses, now nestled in a little vase, out to the table.

“Come on Mr. Woo,” she coaxes, pulling me by the hand.

I smile and follow as she leads me to her little wonderland. The table is tucked under a canopy of twinkly lights, with the Harry Connick CD playing. The food smells wonderful.

“Wow, Brooke,” I sigh.

“See, I can woo too,” she says grinning as we take our seats.

“Thank you…for this.”

She smiles sweetly, unfolds her fancy napkin and smoothes it over her lap.

My heart’s so full as I watch her refill our wine glasses. It’s all the little details of what’s she’s done for me that tells me so much.

We take our time and savor dinner, despite a nervous buzz. There’s a current of electricity crackling through us only slightly muted by the wine and her soothing touches. Woo week has been everything I’d hoped for and more…but with heavy hearts, we both know it’ll soon come to an end.

When our plates are pushed away we finally face the looming elephant on the patio. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” I ask, trying to mask my anxiety.

She looks down and I see the darkness move over her expression.

“Not great,” she admits.

“What are you most worried about?”

“Well, obviously I’m not looking forward to my conversation with Arnauld. It’s not going to be fun.”

I nod and wait for more.

“He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get his way.”

I sit silently, staring at my wine glass before taking another sip.

“What do you think he’ll say?”

“I’m not sure. His manipulation can take different directions.”

“Are you ready for that. I mean, you’re sure of what you want, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” She takes my hand in hers. “I’ve just got to deal with him and get it over with.”

I suddenly picture Brooke with Arnold and my stomach falls. A seed of fear is planted, growing through me wild and untamed. What if he says something that scares her just enough?…enough so that she’s not so sure after all?

Feeling edgy, I push my chair back and get up, walking to the railing. I take a deep breath trying to calm myself as I gaze at the view.

I feel her settle next to me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “I don’t want you to have to go through this. It makes me crazy how he tries to manipulate you.”

“I know,” she admits. “But I need to finish this conversation with him so we can move forward.”

I turn and look at her. She needs to understand how serious this is for me. “Brooke, you know how much I love you, and now that I know you love me too, everything’s changed. I can’t share you with him or pretend to the world that you’re not my girl.” I take a deep breath and imagine life moving on as it was, as if nothing happened. I shake my head. “I just can’t.”

“I don’t want that either,” she says quietly.

I know what has to be said. “This has to be it…an end for Arnold, and a beginning for us. If it isn’t…”

“Yes?”

“I can’t just sit back and watch you with him, knowing you love me. You have to make a choice. It’s the only way for me.”

She steps into my arms and rests her cheek on my chest.

“Well, of course I choose you,” she says softly, with no trace of hesitation.

My breath catches as I pull her tight against me. When we kiss, the emotion is raw as if each fear we had buried this week has broken through the soil and come to light. Every feeling is heightened and dramatic like it’s the last time we will be together, even though we both know that isn’t the case.

Pulling me inside to her bedroom, she’s rendered in gold from the cast of the twinkly lights outside the window. She kisses me again, but this time soft and slow, like butter melting.

“Brooke,” I moan as her fingers purposefully unbutton my shirt, and slide it off. She leans into me, kissing my shoulder, and tenderly feathers her lips up my neck.

I’m silent, yet my heart speaks to her as I hold her close.

Love me

I sense somehow she hears me. She pulls back enough to look up into my eyes.

“Oh, Nathan,” she whispers. “Don’t you realize how much I need you?” Her voice has a desperate edge, her grip tight on my arms.

Show me

Her shirt peels off easily, a white flag waving before it falls. My lips trail across her forehead and into her hair. Hands reach, skimming bare skin, but it’s not enough. Insatiable, I crave more and more…I desire everything…every part of her.

“I need you too, Brooke, more than you know.” I run both hands through her hair and pull her into a kiss.

Choose me, my heart murmurs.

Her hands pull my jeans open and I sigh as her fingers slowly dip inside.

“I want you, baby,” she says softly.

Another deep kiss, there’s a sharp pull from my heart to hers.

“I’ll always take care of you…cherish you,” I say gently.

Believe in me.

“You promise?” She moves my hand to her breast, now bare.

Cross my heart

“Yes, yes,” I assure her, fingers circling as she leans closer.

Be with me…forever.

She pushes her skirt off her hips, until it puddles around her feet. She’s glorious in her bare beauty, curves to graze with my tongue, my fingers, my soul.

Her lips press against my ear, the soft whisper. “Make love to me.”

Yes. She is mine.

Up on the bed, I’m on my knees with her soft hips cradled in my hands. I pull her closer slowly. The sense of fullness once I’m completely inside of her is overwhelming. She’s a vision as she moves with me. Even in the faint light I can see her eyes look straight through me.

I love you, Brooke

“Nathan,” she whispers, again and again as I touch her tenderly.

Never stop calling my name…especially when you’re in my arms

“Is this what you need?” I ask, my fingers sliding, full of intention while I continue to rock into her. I watch her carefully, every stroke an attempt to make her tremble.

“No one has ever made me feel like this.” She tightens and sighs, then opens deeper.

We are meant for each other, Brooke

The way her hair fans across the sheets is startling, a silk headdress, worthy of a queen.

“Do I feel good to you?” she whispers, then moans.

I can’t…I can’t find the words for her perfection

“Jesus, Brooke.”

Shining eyes. “…oh, my love,” she whispers.

I curl over her, and her legs trail mine as my strokes go deeper, harder, pushing us somewhere we’ve never gone. She gasps with each thrust and I feel her sigh of surrender right before my movements become desperate and hard.

“I love you…so…much,” I stutter.

She cries out and pulls me close as we climax. The world falls away as we hold each other tightly in our own mysterious and unending galaxy.

Our bodies seem to stay connected long after we finally pull apart.

• • •

I wake just as dawn breaks and slowly realize where I am. Brooke’s wrapped around me like a starfish on her rock and I sigh with contentment. The memory of the night before fills me with hope and resolve.

In the quiet I conclude that it’s a waste of time to worry about our future. It is certain and destined, even if we have to crawl out of the jungle to shed a monkey on our journey. Brooke will find another job, I have B-Girl and plenty of savings…but most importantly, we will be together.

By the time Brooke wakes, my positive attitude is solid and it rubs off on her too. We watch the DVD collection of Gumby and Pokey episodes over coffee, toast and jam. When it’s finally time to head out, I keep it light agreeing that I’ll text her mid morning. I resolve to listen to Wayne Dyer on my iPod as long as possible while I visualize Brooke and I, united in our own little world.

• • •

I try to focus on work and get a fair amount done. I’m proud I’ve lasted until almost eleven before I finally text her.

Thinking about my girl…how’s it going? Have you seen Mojo yet?

I’m fine, love. No, he’s been in closed-door meetings all morning so I haven’t had to deal with him yet.

Okay. I’ll check in with you later. I love you.

I love you too. XO

I take a break from Bucky and take some time to study Joel’s Robbie model sheets for the new project when I suddenly hear my name.

“Nathan?”

I think I recognize her from HR. She always has the fake happy look on her face.

“Yes?”

“I need you to come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“We need to talk to you.”

“We? Can you tell me what’s this about?”

“Please just come with me,” she insists. The happy smile is gone.

So this is how it’s going to go. I turn off Wayne Dyer silently hoping that he stays with me even if I have to leave my iPod behind.

I follow her to the elevator. It’s the most nerve-wracking ride I’ve ever had, the silence is like a deafening scream. As soon as we step off I realize that we’re heading towards Arnold’s office.

“Why aren’t we going to HR?” I ask, trying to manage my nerves.

“It was decided to have this meeting here.” She says simply likes she’s giving me directions to the mailroom or something.

When she pulls open his office door I pause at the threshold, realizing that there isn’t a single thing inside I’m ready for. Curtis taught me that in football a blindside is when you are tackled without seeing it coming. My instincts tell me to run the other direction, but I know a man must face things head on.

I am Brooke’s man, and I will not run.

I step inside and scan the room. The main HR lady is in the first seat, sitting so upright she looks like she has a metal rod up her back. Then there are two suits watching me carefully, another strangely familiar looking guy sitting just outside the pack and then finally Arnold, seething like a monkey who’s had his banana taken away. The death glare he gives me would totally derail me if Wayne and his affirmations didn’t have my back.

Brooke is gloriously absent from this train wreck and I’m so glad. It’s the one bright spot of relief in this cheery gathering.

“Please have a seat Mr. Evans,” suit lady directs and points to the chair facing the firing squad. “These are our lawyers, Mr. Ruiz and Mr. Felton,” she informs me as she points to the suits on my right.

Damn.

I have two thoughts. The first is that I’m pretty sure I’m not here to get a promotion. I have to fight off a smile at my humor in the face of disaster.

The second is that they can fire me for some bogus reason and blast me out of here on a rocket. It’s not going to change anything that matters to me.

Fuck them…every single one of the soulless fuckers.

I move to the chair, sit down and fold my arms over my chest defiantly. Let’s get this done.

I’m ready, you raving assholes.

Bring it on.

Animate Me / Chapter Twenty-Five / What’s Mine is Yours?

“Hurry Cecil, he’s wrecking our terribly happy magic kingdom!” ~Beany Boy^xxiv

“Nathan Evans?” Suit lady asks.

Is this a trick question? My sullen audience regards me warily. I glance around the room and note that Mojo only has framed posters of Sketch Republic shows up and the show pictured in front of me was canceled last season. He really should get that replaced.

“Yes?”

“Are you familiar with the employee conduct rules that you agreed to when you were hired here at Sketch Republic?”

She holds up the rule book they gave us at orientation.

“Sort of. I mean I didn’t read it, but I know the basics; don’t kill your co-workers, stuff like that.”

“This is serious, Mr. Evans.”

I just stare at her with my game face. She must not want to play. Well, I really don’t want to play either. “Yes, I think I understand the rules pretty much.”

“Note that on page seventeen it clearly addresses the rule against excessive fraternization on company property.”

“Excessive?”

A disturbing feeling crawls through me. Where the hell is she going with this? As if I wasn’t unsettled enough, the guy lurking just behind Arnold is staring me down. I look back over to the HR lady, the confusion evident in my expression. My arms loosen where they are folded over my chest, and fall down to my sides.

“Are you aware that there are security cameras in our conference rooms?”

Cameras in the conference rooms…filming what? Oh my God.

Fuck

Fuck, no

My stomach is now somewhere near my knees. I suddenly feel naked, in front of Arnold and the suits, no less. “No.” I admit with great reluctance.

“What was that, you fucking pervert geek?” Arnauld yells.

“Hey!” I yell back. It’s bad enough knowing he must have watched the footage, but if I’m getting fired anyway, I’m done with his crap.

“Arnauld,” one of the suit men barks, holding their hand up like a stop sign.

My mind goes blank but for one thought.

Brooke

We had sex in that room, never realizing we would unknowingly acquire an audience who doesn’t appreciate the allure of Brooke bent over the super-sized conference table. I know I’m flushed crimson, and I hate myself for it. I clear my throat. “I see. No, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t okay according to the employee guidebook.”

“I’m going to take you down, you little fucker,” Arnold growls.

“Arnauld! Do we need to step outside for a moment?” the bigger suit asks.

“No,” he barks. “Let’s get this done.”

“So I’m fired. Anything else?” I scoot to the front of my seat. I just want to get out of here, and protect Brooke from what’s sure to come…the sooner the better.

“I don’t think you understand how serious this is Mr. Evans.” The smaller suit advises. “We’re very concerned because it appears that some level of force was used in the activities on the video from the conference room recording.”

Holy shit.

Force? What are they saying?

The scenes that afternoon start to flash through my memory: pulling Brooke down to her knees, pushing my cock into her mouth. This is what the camera saw, but it must not have heard Brooke asking me to do those things…telling me she wanted it that way.

The blood drains out of my face as it occurs to me how bad this would look on camera. Could they be thinking I took Brooke with aggression against her will? I feel my breakfast rise up in my throat and I choke it back. Surely, once they talk to her they will realize they misunderstood the events. Right?

“Now Mr. Evans, I would strongly advise you to speak with your lawyer before you comment. This is an extremely serious situation.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I insist, ignoring his warning. “It was completely consensual. I swear. Ask Brooke.”

“Again, I advise you to wait for your lawyer, Mr. Evans.”

“Brooke would never want that,” Arnold fiercely insists. He looks like he’s going to beat the crap out of me. I hope he doesn’t have a gun in his desk drawer because I wouldn’t put anything past that fucker.

Despite his fury, I can’t hold back. “Like you’d know,” I retort.

His fists curl and he looks like he’s going to explode. “I’m going to…”

“Arnauld,” the bigger suit looks angry.

The whole room’s starting to spin. Jesus, I have to get out of here. I turn back to the Human Resources woman. “So what are you going to do to me now?”

“You will be released from employment and escorted from the building. Do you have a lawyer?” She asks.

I nod silently, thinking about my parent’s long time lawyer, Walter, who’s been helping me with my Sharper Edge contract. I’m sure he’ll help me with this.

“Okay, you need to make arrangements with your lawyer, and tomorrow we’ll meet with both of you to determine if charges will be pressed. We’ll be speaking with Ms. Tobin shortly.”

Speaking with Brooke…Escorted from the building…

A sick feeling of dread washes over me, so with trembling hands I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone, then turn on the texting feature.

“What’s he doing? Take his fucking phone away!” Arnold demands.

“I’m texting my lawyer,” I insist.

“Arnauld, it’s his right,” someone says as I look down to focus on my phone.

I tap out the long message as fast as I can, indicating three receivers. Meanwhile I can hear the firing squad discussing me in the background.

To: Morgan, Dani and Nick

HELP. I’ve been fired and soon will be escorted from the building. Morgan please warn Brooke-conference room has a camera. D&N go get the drawings out of my bottom drawer NOW and save them for me. PLEASE

I hit send. When I look up they are still quietly discussing something in cryptic shorthand among themselves so I wait, my knees bouncing wildly. Less than a minute later my alert goes off.

THAT IS FUCKED-don’t worry, Nick’s getting them. They’re safe with us.

Well, that’s something at least. But the next message from Morgan is a blow.

Too late-they already have her.

I’m snapped back to attention.

“Now, Mr. Evans, there’s another matter we need to discuss.”

“Another matter?” I ask weakly. I’m not sure I can take anything else.

He opens up a file folder and pulls out a document and sets it on the coffee table we’re sitting around. It looks like one of the many forms I signed when I started here. Even from this distance, I recognize my signature at the bottom.

Next he opens a large manila envelope and pulls out a stack of comic books. The moment he lays them on the table and fans them out I break out into a cold sweat. In perfect order he has laid out every copy of B-Girl.

“Why do you have those?” I ask, panicked. “They don’t have anything to do with Sketch Republic.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Mr. Evans. They have everything to do with Sketch Republic.” The lawyer turns to HR lady. “Okay, we’re ready for her.”

I look up at Arnold and I can’t read his intense expression. Whatever he’s up to, it’s going to be far worse than anything I’ve feared. Hate doesn’t begin to describe the way I feel about him. It’s a good thing I don’t have a gun either, because now I’m afraid I’d use it too.

In my stupor, I have a vague sense of HR lady moving outside the room and a moment later the door opening again. I turn just in time to see Brooke step inside the office. To say she looks stunned would be an understatement. She looks rigid with fear.

Her eyes scan the crowd. She calculates each face and who they are, and by the time she gets to me her expression has fallen. I see sheer terror on her beautiful face. When our eyes connect there’s a tenderness in her expression, but just then Arnold taps the chair next to him.

“Brooke, come sit here.”

She doesn’t know about the conference room yet. Her vulnerability in the face of this terrifies me. I wish I had mental telepathy or something so I could let her know what’s happened. I sense if I yell something out anyway, it will only make things worse for her. She’s a deer in the headlights. Is she the next one to be sacrificed?

I note that she scans the setting again as if she’s looking for another place to sit, but it’s the only empty seat. She moves to it slowly, with great hesitation. Her gaze fixes on the lurking guy, and it’s as if she suddenly understands something I don’t.

She starts to get her bearings as she sits. “What’s this about?” she demands with authority. “Why is Nathan here?”

“This meeting is about him and some of his activities while an employee of our company,” explains the suit named Ruiz. “You’ve been brought into this particular discussion because it involves you.”

“Really?” she asks with confidence. “How?”

Ruiz picks up the first issue of B-Girl from the pile and hands it to her. I want to dive over the table and take it back. This isn’t how I wanted her to meet B-Girl. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

“Do you know what that is?”

“Well, clearly a comic book. What about it?” She doesn’t look down. She seems to understand that when she does everything’s going to unravel.

“Can you please examine it, Brooke, and read the title to me.”

She looks down and studies the cover, not just the title but the center image of B-Girl, where she undoubtedly sees her own reflection looking back at her. She doesn’t react with recognition, pleasure or anger; she just closes her eyes and drops her head.

All my worst fears about her meeting B-Girl have just been realized. My heart falls.

“Read it,” Arnold demands.

She opens her eyes and studies it again warily. “The Adventures of B-Girl,” she says softly.

“B…Yes, B-Girl,” Ruiz says. “And who does she look like?”

There’s a long pause.

“Brooke?” Arnold insists.

“Me.” Her eyes close again. “Me,” she echoes quietly.

The suit turns to me. “Mr. Evans, when did you start self-publishing this comic book?”

I pause. I can’t lie, the issue date is right there on the cover. “Two years ago,” I answer.

“And how long have you been an employee of Sketch Republic?”

“Three years.”

“Yes, and how long have you been friends with Ms. Tobin?”

“A couple of months,” I say softly. We are more than friends, asshole.

He turns back to Brooke whose eyes are still closed. The look on her face is killing me. “Have you seen these comic books before?” he asks, waving to the pile and copy in her hands.”

She opens her eyes and shakes her head slowly, like it’s so heavy it may fall off.

“Please respond, Brooke.”

“No.”

“So you weren’t aware that Mr. Evans clearly was obsessed with you and had exploited your image for over two years?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I call out. “I would never exploit Brooke.”

“I must point out Mr. Evans, that you already did. This is absolutely exploitation.” He then turns to Brooke and starts in on her. “Ms. Tobin, since you are friends, can you explain to us why he never told you about the books. This is an important detail to not share.”

She sighs. “Does it really matter now why he didn’t tell me? He just didn’t. He had his reasons.”

She sounds like she doesn’t care and I can’t understand why.

“It’s not a big deal,” she continues. “Artists take inspiration from everywhere.”

Not a big deal?

“This is more than inspiration, Brooke. This is a violation of your person, your image. You’re an important woman in this industry, and he’s made a mockery of you,” says Ruiz.

Great, just great…now they want her to think I was making fun of her.

“I don’t see it that way,” she says. “It doesn’t mean a thing to me. I mean, who still reads comic books anymore anyway.” She gives him back the comic like she couldn’t be bothered.

“And since you are unaware of your identity being used, shall I assume that you were also unaware that the president of our company was mocked in this comic…mocked and vilified by one of his employees?”

“No, I was not aware of that. How was Arnauld mocked?”

He picks up the most recent book at the bottom of the pile and fans through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. “Here.” He holds up the comic. “The last issue had the introduction of Monkey Man, who rules a factory of mind-controlled minions.”

Oh, fuck. These assholes are thorough. Should I be flattered that they obviously read all the books?

She purses her lips together tightly and shakes her head. “No, I was not aware of Monkey Man either.”

I search her face for a glimmer of something, anything, but she’s stone-faced. My Brooke has left the building.

“Brooke.” Arnold suddenly speaks, his voice cracking. “Please, tell me honestly…you really didn’t know about this?”

She turns and faces him square on. “I promise you, Arnauld, I did not know we were in his comic.”

His face softens. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry he did this to you…to us.”

She drops her face and closes her eyes again. I notice that her fingers are white as they dig into the upholstery of the chair’s arm.

“Okay, that’s all we needed to talk to you about, Ms. Tobin,” the lawyer announces.

She slowly opens her eyes and for a moment they rest on the document the lawyer pulled out of the folder when this discussion began. Her eyes suddenly fill with fear and I see them shift to Arnauld, before shooting back to the document.

“What are you going to do?” she asks in a tense tone to no one in particular.

I’m trying to not fall to my knees as I realize that there’s a horror lurking I don’t yet understand.

“I’ll explain at dinner, baby. Don’t worry. We have it all under control.”

“I want to know now,” she demands, her voice haunting.

“We must ask you to leave now, Brooke,” Ruiz insists in a tone that says everything. Arnold might think he has her back, but the lawyer’s not an idiot. He knows her loyalty can’t be assured.

“I’m not leaving,” she says loudly, digging in her heels. “I want to know what’s going on here.”

“Brooke, we must insist you leave. Please don’t make us call in security,” the suit says firmly, making it clear he means business.

“That won’t be necessary,” Arnauld says smoothly.

“Brooke, don’t make him bring in security,” the Monkey says gently. “I’ll explain everything later.”

She curls over in her chair with her eyes closed, and we all sit silently waiting. It kills me that she looks so broken. It’s all hitting me that I’m the one who’s put her in this position. I am just as bad for her as the Monkey. I just didn’t see it.

HR lady stands and gestures to Brooke. “Come on, Brooke, there’s another issue we need to discuss over in my office. They’re waiting for us.”

Brooke finally looks up, her expression completely blank. She slowly rises and moves towards her as they head for the door.

I’m overcome, it feels like everything is shattered, as if I’ve fallen into the center of the earth and I’m not coming back out. “Brooke,” I call out right before they reach the door. The devastation in my tone surprises even me. I almost don’t recognize my voice.

She stops suddenly to my cry and pauses. I hold my breath as the seconds pass, praying for her to turn and face me, but instead she never turns. She just keeps moving, out the door, away from me.

Away from us… and that’s when I die inside.

For most of the rest of the interrogation I am Charlie Brown with a bunch of adults surrounding me going, “wa,wa,wa,…wa,wa…wa,wa,wa.” I’m not sure what they’re saying and I really fucking don’t care. But finally something catches my attention, and snaps me out of my stupor.

“To be clear, we own B-Girl, as stated in your employment agreement.”

What in THE FUCK are they talking about? Employment fucking agreement? Own B-Girl?

This must be about the document Brooke noticed before she left. It finally hits me. My mind recalls the standard form I’ve signed for Sketch Republic and other freelance work I’ve done before I start their projects. It maintains their ownership while I work on their properties.

“That’s for stuff I do here at work, not on my own time at home,” I insist. I ball my hands into tight fists.

“I’m afraid you have misinterpreted the agreement if that’s what you think,” Ruiz says calmly.

“B-Girl is mine,” I state clearly.

“Not anymore,” Arnold says smugly.

“Over my dead body,” I assure him. “I will fight this as long as it takes, no matter the cost.”

“Well I hope you’re a very wealthy man, Mr. Evans. Because these cases are extremely expensive, and Arnauld’s prepared to take this all the way.”

I think of dad and my family…my creation and my dignity are what I have to fight for. They wouldn’t let me back down.

“I have the resources,” I insist. “I’ll fight it all the way too.”

“Good, I love a fight when I know I’ll win,” Arnold says casually. “Meanwhile, we’ve contacted Sharper Edge Comics and given them the details. So be aware that your deal is now on indefinite hold until our potentially long case is finished. But I’m sure that they’ll be more than happy to deal with us directly when we’ve won…we’re professionals after all.”

I glare at him, wishing his fur would burst into flames, and he’d die a slow painful death.

“And while we have fun in court, I think I’ll use someone on staff to start redesigning B-Girl to my liking so that we can hit the ground running after we win. Maybe I’ll get your old team involved.”