Animate Me / Chapter Eleven / Man With a Tux

“We’ve been framed, Gumby. Never trust animated people.” ~Pokey

At four in the morning I wake up suddenly and lay there stunned until it is time to drag myself to work. I watch the clock until the afternoon, when our group finally heads to Starbucks. Now I am minutes away from seeing Brooke again, signifying the impending conclusion of my restlessness.

I walk right past Morgan and into Brooke’s office. Brooke is working at her computer, so I go straight up to her desk and sit down in the one of the visitor chairs. She looks up when I set down her coffee.

“Well, hello.” She laughs but then stops when she notices the look on my face.

“Are you all right?”

I lean forward on my elbows. I gaze at the grain in the wood of her desk and finally ask the question that has tormented me for the last twelve hours.

“So that’s it, isn’t it…Rachel’s gay?” I exhale long and slow, finally letting the air out of my chest. “It hit me in the middle of the night, and I’ve thought of nothing else since then.”

She gets up and closes her office door, then returns to her chair. She pulls up close to her desk and leans in towards me.

“Well, that would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ve wondered if that were the case from time to time. I even asked her once but she insisted that she wasn’t.”

Brooke has a sympathetic look on her face. I’m shaken even though I’ve agonized over the idea since four a.m., complete with visions of Rachel with other women dancing in my head.

“She must not have felt ready to admit it to you.”

“Is that what my mom thinks too?” I ask anxiously.

“Shouldn’t you ask her directly?” she gently suggests.

“I need to know right now. Come on, Brooke…”

She slowly nods, and I sigh.

“But please talk to her about it. I feel bad telling you.”

“Why didn’t I trust my instincts? Do you think Rachel was always gay, or did I make her that way?”

“Oh God, how could you think that? Of course she was born that way, but she must have cared about you enough to want to try men anyway.”

“Oh, lucky me!” I say sarcastically. “So remember how I told you that she loved me, you know…giving her oral sex? I was thinking about that all day and how she would always have her eyes closed. Do you think she was imagining I was someone else…a woman?”

“Maybe,” Brooke says sadly.

“Yeah, and her current roommate is kind of a tomboy. I swear, I’m so damn slow!” I press my fingers over my forehead in frustration.

“You just didn’t want to see it. Didn’t you say she was the first girl that you had a strong connection with? All things considered, I’m not surprised you didn’t pick up on it since she had indicated to you that she was straight.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” I say quietly.

“No, I’m not. Give yourself a break; you aren’t only attracted to gay women. Like what about Dani? I know she isn’t gay. And you seem to enjoy me, and I’m not gay.”

“But you’re just helping me. That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does, I’m not just helping selflessly. I always get really turned on with you,” she says matter-of-factly, like she’s talking about the weather.

“You do?” Suddenly it’s like the clouds have parted. Rachel, and all her gayness, fades out of my mind.

“What? You can’t tell? I thought it was rather obvious at your place yesterday morning. I’ve been very tempted to accelerate the education into advanced studies.”

I blush and immediately feel my pants tightening. “Wow, I’d really love to sign up for that.”

Oh, you’re such an idiot! I shift in my chair, embarrassed that I opened my big trap.

“Damn…sorry, I’m just so clueless. I wasn’t completely sure you really felt like that…”

She laughs. “Well then, you’ll just have to take my word for it.” She looks down at her coffee and lifts it to examine it more closely. “Now, what do we have here?”

“Brooke Berry Shortcake,” I respond, smiling.

The drawing is of her perched like a sexy pin-up on top of a huge strawberry with a strawberry hat on her head. She’s wearing yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt.

“Oh, this is awesome. I love it!”

I smile at her and then look down at the pile of projects strewn over her desk. “Well, we should get back to work.” I slowly push away from her desk.

“Are you okay?” she asks, watching me carefully.

“I guess so. But I think I’ll drink the hard stuff tonight.”

• • •

Dani nails me near the break room.

“So I hear you and Brooke went to the Rose Bowl. What am I, chopped liver?”

“No, you’re just not Brooke.” I point out, confused that this isn’t obvious.

“But I’m your pretend girlfriend. I need attention too.”

I suppose she’s right since she’s the one trying to help me. “Okay, when should we go out again?”

“Well, a bunch of us are going out tomorrow night. Why don’t you take me?”

“Is Nick going?”

“Yup,” she says happily.

“I’m onto you, Dani.”

“Screw you, Nathan. I’m onto you too.”

The next day, just after lunch I get a frantic call from Brooke.

“Nathan, thank God you’re there. I’m so screwed. I have a presentation in an hour, and my damn computer’s frozen. I have documents I have to print out. I’d call the IT guy but he’s a raving idiot.”

“No problem. I’ll be right up.” I’m so excited she needs me that I take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

She looks completely stressed when I arrive. She pushes away from the computer and offers me her chair.

“Thanks for coming so fast.” There’s relief and gratitude in her voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you fixed up in no time.” I settle in and get to work with complete focus. I need to make this work for Brooke.

About ten minutes into it, I’ve unfrozen the computer and located the documents, when Arnold comes into her office. I look up and see him regarding me with scorn.

“Do you ever work, man, or just come in here and bug Brooke?”

Stunned, I sit up tall and start to respond when Brooke jumps in.

“Lay off, Arnauld,” she says harshly. “For your information my computer froze before I could print out the treatments for the meeting. He’s helping me recover them.”

“But I thought he was an animator. Why didn’t you call IT?”

He directs his glare back at me. “Let me guess; are you one of those super geeks who stays up all night playing with computers too?”

He reminds me of the jocks who used to bully me in high school, and I can’t let him do that to me in front of Brooke.

“No, I’m an animator who happens to be good with computers.”

I hear Brooke snicker softly.

Arnauld rolls his eyes and turns to Brooke. “Whatever. Look babe, I’ve got a problem.”

“What’s that?” she asks impatiently.

“I’ve got a conflict now with Emmy night, and I’m not going to be able to go.”

“What are you talking about? It’s this Sunday! You’re supposed to take me. This is a big deal.”

I can’t help but listen, and I take a glance. I’m surprised at how upset she looks. She must really want to go to the Emmys.

“I know this is your big night…after all, you are the one who discovered Lazlo and helped him develop Danny Deletes, but I’ve worked things out. Roger’s offered to take you instead.”

“I don’t want to go with Roger,” she all but shrieks. “He is the dullest man I know. He’ll want to talk projections all night.” She puts her hands on her hips and juts her chin out. “So, what’s so damn important that you can’t take me?”

He looks down and I know before he opens his mouth that it’s bad.

“Zach got us ticket for the big fight in Vegas. Third row seats.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re blowing off my big night for a fight?”

“Do you have any idea what it took for him to get those tickets, babe?”

“I don’t give a damn what it took! I’m not going with that loser Roger so you better rethink your plans.”

“Roger is CFO of this company Brooke.” He turns and points at me. “What? Would you rather go with this dweeb?”

I turn around pissed off. Did that asshat just call me a dweeb in front of Brooke? “Hey,” I challenge him, absolutely amazing myself.

“Don’t worry, toon boy, she’d never go with you.”

“Screw you, Arnauld. I’d love to go with Nathan.” She turns to me. “Will you take me to the Emmys Nathan?”

Things are suddenly looking up. “Sure, when it is again?”

“Wait just a damn minute,” Arnauld rages. “You can’t go with him. Just look at him with those goofy glasses and floppy hair, you’ll look ridiculous. I bet this geek didn’t even go to his prom. Have you ever even rented a tux, man?” He folds his arms over his chest assuming victory.

“Actually I own one,” I state calmly.

“What?” they both ask in unison.

They both look shocked. I can’t begrudge Brooke for her surprise. It’s unusual for someone like me to own a tux. But my dad dislikes renting anything. It’s against his religion or something. So we all got tuxes for the black tie event when he won the National Award for Outstanding Innovations. He told me at the time that I would wear it for my wedding one day. I bet he never imagined that I would wear it to the Emmys too.

“Is it a Halloween costume or something?” Arnauld asks warily.

“No, actually it’s an Armani. I got it at Barney’s.”

I’m sure that little tidbit impresses him, Mr. Hip Fashion guy. Screw you, hairy back. I hope one of those boxers gets knocked out of the ring and lands on you, crushing that stupid look right off your face.

Brooke’s grin is priceless. I can tell she may break into a happy dance any moment.

“Well then, that’s all settled. So if you’ll excuse us Arnauld, we have some plans to make.”

He gives me a death glare and I shrug my shoulders. He storms out of her office.

She walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek.

“What’s that for?” I ask puzzled.

“That was priceless…I swear I love you, Nathan. You really perform well under pressure. How did you ever think up that tuxedo thing…and Barney’s! That was brilliant!”

“But I really do have an Armani tuxedo from Barney’s, Brooke.” I explain, suddenly worried that she doesn’t intend to actually go with me. “Can I still take you?”

She throws her head back laughing, and it makes me smile to see her so happy.

“Hell yes! Believe me, there’s no one else I’d rather go with.”

The next day I tell Brooke that I’m considering contacts.

“Is this about Arnauld mentioning your glasses? Don’t think you have to change because of what he said.”

“I know. But remember when you took off my glasses that time and told me what nice eyes I have? I actually started thinking about it then. I even talked to my ophthalmologist about it last week at my check-up.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. As long as you’re going why don’t I come and we’ll pick up some stylish frames as back up. Lot’s of girls love guys in glasses if they’re cool ones.”

“You’ll come help me pick them out?”

“Sure, let’s see if we can get into L.A. Eyeworks this evening. Arnauld gets all his glasses there.” She scans through her Blackberry until she finds the number. “Do you have your prescription?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s in my book bag.”

• • •

The highlight of my week thus far is Brooke picking out frames and gently easing them on me. Each time, she brushes my hair up off my forehead and steps back for a better view.

“Your green eyes are so gorgeous. They were hidden under your heavy old glasses.”

I smile as she slowly pulls the third pair off. They’re a sleek European design like the hipsters wear.

After the fourth pair, she shakes her head and mutters something to herself.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, pushing the new frames further up my nose.

“No, you just look really hot. You’re going to have the girls lined up.”

“A line of girls? Well, then…let’s buy this pair. If you think I look hot, that’s good enough for me.”

She goes and talks to the technician while I study myself in the mirror. I don’t see the big difference, but I’m used to ignoring my reflection unless I’m shaving.

She returns, stepping up behind me to study how I look again. I can’t help feeling nervous; it’s so important to me to look good for her.

“Well?” I question. Has she changed her mind?

“Very hot,” she confirms.

“You think so? Would you be one of those girls in line?”

“Hell, I’d be first in line.” She makes a dramatic Dream Girls-like arm motion. “I’d be all, watch out, bitches…he’s mine.”

He’s mine? Oh God, that’s making me wild inside.

I swallow as I watch her in the mirror’s reflection. “How soon will they be ready?” I ask anxiously. I need these glasses now.

“You can take the contacts tonight. They’ll deliver the frames to you tomorrow.”

Thursday I suffer through the contacts only a few hours in the afternoon so Brooke can see me wearing them. It’s as long as I can stand them, and that’s with repeated eye drops. As it is I spend half of my lunch hour trying to get them in, after being too chicken to try in the morning.

I can’t tell what’s more painful, adjusting to the little discs stuck to my eyeballs or all the attention my new look is garnering. I have to wonder, why didn’t anyone tell me I looked like a super geek in my old glasses? I always thought they were cool.

All the girls seem to be intrigued with me now. Even Morgan gives me the look when I go to Brooke’s that afternoon.

“Hey handsome,” Brooke says as she reaches for her macchiato. “Are you coming over tonight to help with the website? I’ll show you my dress for Sunday.”

“Sure,” I say enthusiastically. “Do you want me to pick up dinner?”

“Nope, I’ve already ordered us a sushi platter.”

“You were that sure I was coming?”

“Have I mentioned that I’ll be wearing my yoga pants?” She teases.

I grin. “Well then, I’m coming for sure.”

Brooke suddenly looks up and I turn to see Morgan in the doorway.

“Sorry Brooke, but Arnauld just called and he needs you in on this call. They are in the conference room across from his office.”

She stands up and grabs her Blackberry and notebook. “Okay, thanks Morgan.” She touches my shoulder as she steps away from her desk. “So, I’ll see you later.” She winks, and I nod, smiling.

On my way out of Brooke’s office I pause at Morgan’s desk.

“Morgan, can I ask your advice?”

She looks surprised, but nods. “Sure.”

“As you know, I’m escorting Brooke to the Emmys Sunday.”

She jumps in. “Yeah, before I forget, do you want the limo to pick you up at your place, or Brooke’s?”

I have no idea how to answer that, but it occurs to me that at the end of the night I don’t want to just have the driver drop her off. “Well, why don’t I go to Brooke’s and then they’ll just have one stop?”

“Okay, then be there and ready to go at five. Oh, and you do know it’s black tie, right?”

She must really think I’m an idiot, but I remember I need her help so I remain polite and calm.

“Yeah, thanks Morgan, I’m set with a tux. But Arnauld said my hair looks stupid and I don’t want to embarrass Brooke. Do you know of a good barber I could go to who would make me look all right?”

I can tell that my question has pleased her. “Great idea. Let me do a little research, and I’ll email you within a half hour. It’s kind of late notice for the top people though.”

“Well, I could do it any time tomorrow late afternoon, or Saturday.”

Morgan makes notes on her pad.

“Also, I have no idea about these things…do I bring her a corsage or something?”

Morgan snickers. “No, this isn’t the prom.”

I blush, feeling humiliated. “Okay, so no flowers then.”

“Well you could bring her flowers when you come to her place…you know, to congratulate her for her achievement. That would be sweet.”

“Do you think roses?”

“Actually Brooke loves peonies. She orders herself an arrangement once a month because they’re her favorite. I’ll call her favorite florist, Mark’s Garden on Ventura Blvd., and have them put together an arrangement. You should pick them up at four-thirty Sunday. I’ll email you their address as well. You can pay for them there.”

“Wow, thanks Morgan. You’re amazing.”

She glows with the compliment. Maybe she really isn’t that bad.

“You’re welcome. Take good care of Brooke. Okay, Nathan? This is a big night for her.”

“I’ll do my best.” I assure her.

• • •

When I get to her house that evening the sushi’s just been delivered, and I bristle at the young delivery guy checking out my girl in her yoga pants.

I’m wearing my new glasses that make me look “really hot” and to seal the deal I’m wearing a size large narrow black Gap T-shirt that I previously would have never considered wearing. Normally I wear extra large because I like my clothes loose and comfortable. But the contacts and new glasses have got me feeling bold, like it’s time to break new ground.

“Hey, Brooke,” I say stepping inside.

“Oh my,” she says when she sees me and gives me a hug.

She steps back and nods. “I would strongly suggest you wearing that shirt and those glasses more often. They really show off how handsome you are.”

I love how she says that so matter-of-factly.

“And look at you.” I grin, gesturing to her outfit.

“Yes, my yoga pants have made another appearance just for you.”

I sigh. “It’s the simple things that make me happy.”

She pulls me towards the kitchen. “Come on, I bought Sapporo beer to go with the sushi.

After dinner we clean up and start to head into the studio.

“Hey, before we start can I show you the two dresses I’m trying to decide between for the Emmys?”

“Sure,” I agree. I may not know anything about women’s clothes but I’d look at Brooke in anything. Who’d have thought I’d ever be judging fashion?

She disappears into her room and comes back out a few minutes later in a long black fitted gown of some velvety looking material. It’s elegant and makes her look older than she is.

“What do you think?” she asks, sounding uncertain.

“You look beautiful, Brooke. It’s really fancy.”

“Fancy?” she smiles at me, her fashion idiot friend. What was she expecting?

“You look great. But you’d look great in anything.”

She makes a face at me. “All right Mr. Picky, let me show you the other one now.”

She’s gone a longer time and she comes down the hall even more tentatively.

This dress is a deep red, almost wine colored and it makes her pale skin glow. The fabric sweeps over her curvy hips and thighs. I look at her long neck and then down to where her breasts nestle in the top folds of the dress.

“Wow,” I say quietly. I can’t stop looking at how pretty she looks, soft but sexy, shy but provocative. “Wow.”

“Right?” she questions. “I like this one too. Here can you help me with this zipper?”

She steps close, turning around and I freeze as my gaze trails over her.

Her back is exposed all the way down to the top of her bottom, the softest white skin I’ve ever seen. My mouth actually waters as I fight the urge to run my tongue all the way up the length of her. I want to softly kiss her across her shoulders and then wind my hands around her until they are cupping her breasts.

“Zipper?” she asks looking over her shoulder to see what’s holding me up.

With great focus I take the tiny zipper pull between my fingers and drag it up as slowly as possible without giving myself away. I desperately want to leave her back naked, smooth as a field of freshly fallen snow.

When I finally zip the dress closed she turns around and the fabric swirls, falling against her in an embrace. Her cleavage is revealed…well not just revealed but celebrated, her breasts round and full. My lips ache to skim over them.

The fabric cinches at her curvy waist and then molds to her shapely bottom. This dress is everything a dress should be, because all I want to do is take it off and make love to her.

She takes several steps back while smoothing the fabric over her hips. Turning sideways she pulls the fabric up where it cups her breasts, then runs her hands back down to her hips. I’m fully hard now watching her touch herself. I’m trying to contain my overwhelming desire.

When she turns around and smoothes the fabric over her bottom, I’m so aroused I can’t focus. I take several steps back until I can sink onto the couch. I pull a throw pillow over the situation in my pants, hoping she doesn’t notice.

“So? What do you think, this or the black one?”

“Are you kidding?” I ask stunned. “This dress was made for you. You look amazing.”

“Really?” she asks like she’s still not sure. “You’re not just saying that?”

“It’s perfect, seriously. It really shows off your great body, and the color’s beautiful on you.” I sigh and smile.

“This is my favorite too. I feel really good in it. But Arnauld said it was unflattering.”

I can feel how tender she is all around her edges, and a powerful desire to protect her roars through me.

“What? He’s nuts.” I say, trying not to just go off on him and get her even more upset. But I’m so angry. It’s like he tries to control her by messing with her head.

“I don’t know why I let him get to me, Nathan. I’m normally so confident, but he’s always pointing out what’s wrong with my body and I guess it’s worn me down.”

“You know, I’m sorry to be selfish, but I’m glad Arnauld’s going to Vegas for that fight. I may not know anything about fashion stuff but I’m a man and I know what I like. If Arnauld can’t see how beautiful and desirable you are in this dress, then he has his head up his ass. I can’t wait to walk in front of all those people with you on my arm.”

“Really?” she asks studying me with her wide eyes.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m so proud to be going with you.” I take a deep breath and hold it, barely believing that speech came out of me. But that’s what Brooke does to me. She inspires me to be more than I think I can be.

She stands there silently and I wait, not sure what to do next. But a moment later I realize that there are tears trailing down her cheek.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment, I sense what she needs. So I get off the couch and step right up to her. Reaching over, I wipe her tears away with my fingers and pull her into my arms.

And although I have no words left that can adequately express her beauty and how she affects me, I hope the way I hold her says everything.