Animate Me Read online

  She looks over at me. “Hey, Nathan. What’s up?” She says. I can hear the exhaustion in her voice.

  “Can I come in? I want to clarify something.”

  “Sure,” she replies pointing to the couch. “Have a seat; I’ll just be a sec.”

  I slowly approach the couch and realize that I had pictured sitting with Brooke on this couch the first time I was in her office. Well, this at least is a step in the right direction.

  I clear my throat as she appears to finish up an email.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Someone asked me if I have been bringing you coffee to butter you up for a pitch. I just wanted to let you know that I would never do that. That’s not why I’ve been talking to you, and you know…bringing you coffee.”

  A gentle smile transforms her tense expression. “Okay, then why have you been bringing me coffee and talking to me?”

  I’m dumbstruck for a moment. What do I say without sounding like an idiot? “Well, because you’re the kind of girl…I mean, when you give your talks at the company meetings I always…” I stop before I dig a deeper hole.

  “Yes?”

  I look down before blurting out, “You’re just really nice and interesting. And I never thought you’d talk to someone like me…I mean, you’re an executive, and I’m just an animator. You’re so cool to talk to.” I twist my hands nervously in my lap.

  You’re batting a thousand here, bucko. I inwardly roll my eyes.

  “Just an animator? Please. Give yourself some credit. You guys are what really matters around here.”

  I can’t tell if she is just trying to make me feel better, or if she means it. She has a magical way of always making me feel important—like her equal, even though I’m not.

  “Well, it wasn’t the most impressive meeting seeing me at Jimmy’s Geek World in my bow tie and all.” Something suddenly occurs to me that I had completely forgotten. “Hey, did your USB cord work?”

  Her cheeks flush as she makes the cutest face at me. “Can you believe I haven’t even checked yet? The rest of my weekend and this week have been crazy busy.”

  “Okay,” I reply a little disappointed that the object of our union had been pushed aside. “Tomorrow’s my last day covering for Bill there, so if you have time to check it out and there’s a problem, you know where I’ll be.”

  Her phone rings, and although she doesn’t answer it, it reminds me that I should let her get back to work.

  “That’s good to know. Thanks.”

  I stand up to leave and push my floppy hair off my glasses. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m curious…how old are you?”

  She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head. “I’m going to have to talk to the dean of the Chivalry University—they obviously don’t know what they’re doing. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to ask a woman her age?”

  My head drops, forcing me to push my glasses back up my nose. I start backing out of her office with my hands up.

  “Sorry, sorry…just forget I asked.” I’m so embarrassed…why am I such an idiot? I’m going to have a stiff drink tonight and try to get over this.

  “Hey, chill out…I was joking. I’m thirty. Why?”

  I stop in her doorway, and try to catch up with the change in mood. She was just teasing me. I think for a second.

  “You just seem so young to be so successful.” Good recovery, dude.

  “I guess so,” she agrees. “How old are you?”

  I pause for a moment before I fess up. Will she have an issue with being older than me? “Twenty-six.”

  “You’re so young! So I could say the same. Look how much you’ve accomplished.”

  Although I don’t believe I’m a success yet, I take the compliment. “Thanks.” I turn once again to leave. “So if I don’t see you tomorrow…then Monday?”

  “Sure, it’s your turn for the coffee. Just saying…” She grins.

  I nod and push my hands in my jeans. “See ya.” I give her my best tooth-flashing smile and head back to my cube. For all the twists and turns of that roller coaster ride, I step into the elevator feeling victorious.

  Brooke brought me coffee! Progress has been made.

  Animate Me / Chapter Four / Goodbye Geek World

  “When you get a little older, you’ll see how easy it is to become lured by the female of the species.” ~Batman to Robiniii

  I stand in front of the mirror, pushing my hair around hoping it ends up in some acceptable shape. I have never been able to control the unruly mess, and I usually don’t even try, but today is different. Today belongs to Brooke, and I’ve got to look my best.

  It’s making me nervous how hopeful I am that she will come by Geek World since it sets me up for a tremendous let down if she doesn’t show up. However, logic is escaping me, and my emotions have broken loose and are bouncing off the walls.

  Looking in the mirror one final time to check my teeth, I notice my uniform’s faux bow tie is crooked. I study my reflection trying to imagine what Brooke would see when she looks at me, and with one brisk movement, I grasp the bottom of my shirt and pull upwards, yanking it over my head. I’ll tell Jimmy that I spilled coffee all over it or something, but I can’t wear that shirt today. I’ve made tangible progress with Brooke, and I don’t want her to be reminded of me as that completely awkward geek from a mere week ago.

  I spend the morning helping customers while Jimmy works in the stockroom. At lunch he brings me back a burrito from Taco Bell to eat at the cash desk since I don’t want to risk missing Brooke. I’ve just wiped the final remnants of refried beans off my fingers when the door opens, and everything that is tilted in my world suddenly straightens.

  Oh good God, what is she wearing? She has this black stretchy get-up on that makes her look like a cross between Catwoman and one of those Zumba dancers on TV. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me? She strides right up to the cash register and pushes her sunglasses onto the top of her head.

  “Hey, Nathan! I’m so glad you’re here. How’s it going?”

  “Hi, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you today.” I smile happily.

  “Well, guess what?” She pulls the Geek World bag out of her oversized purse.

  “The thingy didn’t work?” I ask.

  “Nope, I guess my computer is gay after all. I think I need the male-to-male connection. It must be all that gay porn I watch on my computer.”

  “You watch gay porn?” I question, feeling aroused at the idea of Brooke watching porn—even if it’s gay porn.

  “Sure, don’t you?” she teases.

  “No,” I stutter. “I’m not gay.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was kidding, and I’ve only seen it a few times. Don’t judge me because I love men and their beautiful naked bodies. With that stuff, you get double the fun.”

  “If you say so. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with porn. I’ve been known to enjoy it once in a while.” I feel the flush burn up my neck and across my cheeks, but I try to maintain my cool. If Brooke can talk so casually about something so private with me, I want to be able to do the same.

  She smiles. “See, that just means you’re a healthy young man.”

  I bristle on the word young. Does she really see me as someone too young to ever be in her league? She’s only four years older than me, but I have to admit she must have a lot more experience.

  She looks down and starts to open her shopping bag, so I step out from the counter and head over to the cables and accessories section with her. “So male to male?” I ask.

  “Yup, two outties. No innies.”

  I pull the correct cord off the spindle rack before I turn back towards her. “That’s some outfit, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Oh, this? I just came from the gym. Arnauld says I’m getting fat, and I need to work out more.” She turns and looks back at me over her shoulder. “Do you think my ass looks too big?”

  “Too big?�
� I swallow nervously. My eyes move over the perfection that is her bottom. It may be ample, but it is a thing of beauty…round and robust.

  Down boy. It would be so wrong to get aroused in Geek World. I try to refocus on what she’s saying.

  “Yes, that’s what Arnauld said. He called me a fat-ass this morning.”

  “Ah…no,” I stammer… “I think your bottom looks great…really great.”

  “See, this is why I should be dating someone like you…someone who appreciates my ample ass.”

  “You’re pretty much perfect if you ask me,” I confirm. “I can’t imagine how he could possibly think anything less.”

  “Oh, you!” she sighs. “You’re so sweet. As for Arnauld, I suppose this is what I get for dating a gym addict. He has such an incredible body, but it makes him expect everyone else to have one too.”

  I crumble inside. No, I don’t want to hear about Arnauld’s incredible body and what that does to Brooke. I wish he were a sloth with a beer belly and hair on his back. “Does he have hair on his back at least?” There I go with my verbal diarrhea. I need a filter for my big mouth.

  “No…he gets it waxed. Please don’t repeat that. He’d look like a monkey if he didn’t.”

  “I don’t have any hair on my back,” I point out.

  “Noted,” she smiles. “You’ve got that smooth skin, don’t you?” She asks as she innocently runs her fingers over my cheek.

  I close my eyes for a second to try to capture the feeling of her caress in my mind. Then I snap back to the present, realizing that she just called me smooth.

  “Well, smooth in a manly way,” I proclaim in a faux macho voice.

  “Well, then, your girl must be very lucky.”

  And once again I am tongue-tied. Do I tell her that I don’t have a girlfriend? That I haven’t since college? That will make me look like an even bigger loser. As the debate volleys in my mind, she looks down at her watch.

  “Damn, I better get going. I’m meeting a friend for a late lunch, and I don’t want to show up in yoga pants and a tank top.”

  I bite my tongue and follow her to the register. As I enter the exchange and wait for the receipt to print, an idea occurs to me. “Do you have someone helping you with your data transfer?”

  “No,” she admits. “If I did, it’d be done by now. My usual IT girl has been doing a job up north and hasn’t had time for me.”

  “Well, I’m pretty good with that stuff, so if you need help, please call me.”

  “Really? That’s so nice of you.”

  “I mean it.” I pull out my wallet. “Here, let me give you my card again; my cell number’s on it.”

  She puts her hand out to stop me. “You don’t have to do that. I still have the card you gave me.” She slides it out of her wallet and shows it to me.

  And something about that, the fact that she had held onto my card and carried it with her all week, makes me unbelievably happy.

  She grins widely and shoves the bag with the gay cord in her purse.

  “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Okay, but promise me you’ll call if you need help.”

  “Oh, I will.” She turns to leave, and all I can think as I watch her walk away is thank God for yoga pants.

  Soon after she leaves, Jimmy can see that I’m totally distracted, so he pushes me to take a break. Perched on the stool in the back room, I think about our conversation and the contrast of how much easier it was to talk to Brooke since even a week ago. I can’t help but wonder if she likes me, even if just the littlest bit. A few times I’ve noticed her looking at me like she’s interested.

  Thanks to the newest Mortal Kombat release, the afternoon is busy so the time flies by. It’s almost time to leave when my cell phone goes off.

  “Nathhhhaaaaannnnnn!”

  “Brooke, is that you?” I ask concerned.

  “I’m ready to throw this piece of junk out the window! No matter what I try, nothing works. I’ve just spent two friggin hours, and I’ve gotten nowhere.”

  My hand tightens over the phone. “I’m sorry, you should’ve called me earlier. Can I come over and fix it for you?”

  “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.”