Animate Me / Chapter Thirteen / And the Award Goes to…

“Every adventure requires a first step.” ~Cheshire Cat

Saturday morning I stand in front of a row of stores on Melrose Place confused. When I look to the right I see a designer’s store called Stella McSomething and when I look to the left I see another expensive looking clothes place called Marc and Jacob but I don’t see a fancy hair-cutting place. I study the address on the paper and look up again. Is this like Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in Harry Potter where you have to cast a magic spell for the buildings to slide apart and reveal your destination? Maybe it has a protective nerd shield. Perhaps it’s a sign that I shouldn’t be here.

Just when I’m about to give up I notice an antique looking gate between the two buildings. I approach it and peer through, revealing a courtyard with a fountain and all kinds of exotic looking plants. Is this the place?

I tentatively pull open the gate and step inside. Just on the other side of the fountain I see a wall of glass with busy haircutting people inside. I can almost hear Betty, the tiny woman who lives in my car’s dashboard and runs my GPS, say, “You have reached your destination.”

The minute I approach the reception desk I realize my life is no longer my own. I also realize that I should’ve dressed nicer.

“Hi, I’m Nathan Evans and I have an appointment with Bradley.”

“Yes, of course,” the glamazon purrs before stepping from behind the desk. “Come with me.”

I walk behind her marveling at how she balances in those ridiculous shoes. They have big platforms and a mess of straps halfway up her calves. Her skirt is short enough that she probably can’t bend over without a show. She stops in front of a door.

“You can change in here.”

“Change?” I sputter. Am I getting a physical exam along with my haircut?

She squints and I can tell she’s trying not to roll her eyes. She opens the door and steps towards a fancy antique looking wardrobe thing. Reaching in, she pulls out a black robe made of a thin fabric—definitely not terry or flannel. I’m supposed to wear this? Maybe this is Hogwarts.

“You take off your shirt and hang it in here, and then put this on,” she explains like I’m a candidate for preschool. “Can I get you a cappuccino or a glass of wine?”

Wine? It’s ten in the morning. This crowd must like to get the party started early. “Actually, some water would be great, thanks.”

After she closes the door behind her, I pull off my hoodie and T-shirt and hang them up. As I slide on the robe I stop to look in the mirror noting that those new crunches and bench presses Curtis showed me are paying off. When Brooke put her hand on my chest Thursday night, I didn’t flinch from embarrassment but welcomed it because I know working out has been worth the effort. Curtis has had me on a regimen for years, initially in the hopes that I would be able to defend myself when people picked on me. But I kept it up because it relieved the stress of bending over an animation table all day.

I tie the robe shut and venture outside. Another woman approaches me. She has her eyebrow pierced, light blue eyes and the blackest hair against her pale skin.

“Hi Nathan, I’m London. Let me take you to Bradley.”

He must be the king of this castle because the throne-like chair she leads me to is in a private area facing the garden. Bradley sweeps in right after her and shakes my hand.

“So you are Nathan.”

I nod.

“Morgan asked me to take good care of you. You are taking Ms. Brooke to the Emmy’s tomorrow, yes?”

Ms. Brooke? I nod again, still overwhelmed.

He tips his head, examining me. I can tell there are a lot of thoughts running around in there that he won’t be sharing, but I’m used to that feeling when people meet me.

“I looooove Brooke, so I am going to make sure you’re the hottest guy at the event.”

Really? I think skeptically. Well, good luck with that.

He steps behind me and watches my reflection in the mirror as he runs his hands through my hair, lifting and watching it fall.

“Can I show you something?” I ask, remembering my plan.

“Sure, do you have a picture of a cut you like?”

“Not exactly.” I pull out my old glasses and put them on, then press my hair over my forehead. “This was my old look that Arnauld suggested could be improved. I thought it would be helpful for you to see it.”

Bradley coughs and London hands him his bottle of water. He is pressing his hand on his chest and can’t seem to talk, so I continue.

“Can I ask your opinion? I mean, is it really that bad?”

“Well, let me understand,” Bradley asks once he has his voice back. “What is this, some kind of pseudo-intellectual, geekazoid grunge, pre-Mia Farrow-Woody Allen, ‘I’m too busy thinking deep thoughts to do anything as frivolous as getting my hair cut’ look?”

I stare at him, blinking repeatedly, stuck on the creepy Woody Allen reference.

“Was any part of that what you were going for?” he questions.

I dig in my pocket for a folded paper and I open it carefully. “No, I was patterning myself after Roy Orbison in his later years. I hold up a picture of the singer who was popular in the fifties. “See the glasses and how he wore his hair swept down. He was so cool when he toured with the Traveling Wilburys.”

Bradley holds it up and studies the image. “You think this is cool?” he asks, not hiding the disbelief in his voice. “Wait a minute, isn’t this guy dead?”

“Yes, but…” I begin to argue before he cuts me off.

“Oh no! I don’t do dead guy styles or Justin Bieber haircuts. I draw a hard line there. We all have our limits and those are mine.”

He folds up the paper and gently removes my glasses and sets both on a side table.

“Nathan, did Morgan explain that I’m the best?”

“Yes,” I lie. Morgan only told me how much he cost, which of course would imply that he’s either the best, or people with money are stupid.

“You need to trust me Nathan. I am going to make you look hot. You have great hair, a great face…you need a style that compliments both.”

“Okay,” I say weakly. “I’ll trust you. Just do what you think is best.” Hair grows back after all.

“You’ve made a wise choice,” he says dramatically. “You’ll be glad you did.”

I take a deep breath, glad that without my glasses everything is a little fuzzy when London takes me off to wash my hair. The full impact of what I’ve agreed to won’t hit me until I leave the salon.

I can’t imagine why it takes so long to cut my hair; I’m not Rapunzel or anything. But Bradley seems pretty damn serious about his work, taking steps back to consider his progress every few snips. I sense that we are done when London comes towards me with an oversized paintbrush and starts dusting me off like a knick-knack.

Immediately following he swings the chair face forward, and they both step on either side of me to study my reflection.

“Wow,” sighs London. Her intonation is full of admiration, so I figure that’s a good thing.

“Yes,” Bradley agrees, nodding. “Yes.”

I squint, and so London hands me a large hand mirror.

Wow, I look really different. “Hey, that looks good,” I say, surprised.

“He looks hot,” London says to Bradley.

“Sizzling,” the master insists. “Now, Nathan…I’m tempted to not give you those glasses back because they must not be worn…ever again.”

“Don’t worry, I have contacts and new glasses Brooke picked out from L.A. Eyeworks.”

Bradley smiles; I guess he approves. I leave my tips and thank them. Heading out, I’m so stunned from the whole experience that I almost leave with my robe on. Luckily I catch myself before I make it to the front desk.

The glamazon looks flustered as she runs my credit card. She keeps staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable, but there’s nothing I can do about it now, the hair I always hid under is gone.

Once home, I end up taking many opportunities that day to stare at myself too. I put in my contacts so I can continue to break them in, and consequently every time I look in the bathroom mirror, I get a clear look of my new haircut. I’m less surprised with each glance, until by the end of the day, I think I like it.

• • •

“Ah, Mom,” I sigh as she fusses over me.

She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “All the times I’ve tried to get you to cut your hair, and you refused.” But then she smiles. “It was that lovely girl…Brooke, wasn’t it? You did it for her, didn’t you?”

I nod, my face turning red. “I just hope she likes it.”

“Oh, she’ll like it,” Mom responds with no hesitation.

“She’ll see it tonight. Remember, he’s taking her to the Emmys,” Curtis explains.

“Are you wearing your tux?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, I’m so glad I have that tux, Dad.” I watch him grin with satisfaction and nod his head.

“Outstanding! It looks like our calculated investment is showing the potential to pay off far beyond our original projections,” he says rubbing his hands together happily. “And one can never underestimate the potential impact of an impressive personal presentation with a desired mate.”

“Yeah, you’re going to look so hot she’s going to be all over you, dude,” Curtis confirms encouragingly.

I can’t help but blush and grin at their support. I know that they genuinely want me to be happy.

“Well, you must call when you get home and let us know how it goes,” Mom insists.

“If it goes well, calling you is the last thing he’ll be doing,” Curtis snickers.

I can’t get my hopes up like that, but the thing I know for sure is that I’ll get to see Brooke in that dress again and be her date. Anything beyond that is icing on the cake.

Back home, I spend a couple of hours roughing out pages for the next B-Girl issue. I’m glad to have my time occupied until it’s finally time to get ready to go. Once I’ve showered, fixed my hair with that stuff like Bradley showed me, and gotten dressed, it all hits me.

I’m taking Brooke to the Emmys.

As I study myself in the mirror I realize, for perhaps the first time in my life, that I’m not bad looking at all. Since these plans were made, I’ve desperately wanted to believe that I could look worthy of being with her tonight. And with my final glance, I actually believe that I do.

My stomach flip flops the whole way to the florist, because it means I’m that much closer to being with her again. As I park I wonder if she’s nervous too. Once out of the car, I slide the tux jacket off the hanger from where it’s hung in the back seat, and pull it on. I wish I could have sorted out my bow tie, but I’m sure Brooke will do a better job with it than I could. I roll my shoulders back and clear my throat before I ring the doorbell.

She buzzes the gate, but I’m all the way down the stairs before she pulls open the door. I stop in my tracks. Her hair is swept up and she’s wearing the dark red dress, the fabric fluttering around her legs in the breeze.

She’s a vision, and tonight she’s mine.

“Nathan!” she gasps. “You’ve cut your hair.”

I nod, noticing that her cheeks are flushed and her expression’s bright. Her eyes move over me, from my hair, to my eyes—now unhindered by glasses—to the tux. “Oh my God, you look so handsome,” she says slowly, each word pressing into me. I can tell she means it. “Wow,” she whispers.

I’m speechless and while I’m searching for the right response, I manage to hold out the bunch of flowers.

“For me?” she says, stepping forward. “That’s so sweet.”

I watch her take them and look down into the swirl of dark and light pinks. “Peonies,” she sighs. “How did you know these were my favorite flowers?”

“I did my research,” I answer grinning.

She smiles, tipping her head as she studies me. I can tell she’s impressed.

“Brooke…” I start.

“Yes?”

“You’re so beautiful…I mean, you look so beautiful tonight…well, I mean both—you are beautiful and you look so beautiful tonight…but then you always look beautiful, not just tonight…” I ramble, horrified. I’ve apparently lost all verbal ability, thereby making a complete idiot of myself.

She steps closer and touches her fingers to my lips, stilling me.

“Thank you.” She pulls her fingers from my lips, yet still lingers close to me. It almost feels like she’s going to kiss me, but then she turns towards the foyer.

“Here, come on in.”

She turns and heads into the kitchen and I follow, noting that she’s barefoot. She pulls out a vase, fills it, then deftly unwraps the flowers and quickly arranges them before pulling back to admire the results.

“No one has ever brought me peonies,” she says wistfully. “Until you.”

I smile, excited about how well things are going, but just then the doorbell rings.

“Can you get that? It’s the driver; tell him I need a couple minutes.”

The driver assures me it’s no problem, and I go back inside to find Brooke bent over the couch struggling with her shoes.

“Ugh, I can’t seem to get the hook thingy to fit in the little hole!”

“Can I help?”

“Please. These are the only shoes I have that will look right with this dress.”

I kneel down in front of her and remove the high-heeled sandal and examine the strap. “Damn, those are tiny holes. Here let me give it a try.” I slip her beautiful foot back into the sandal and thread the delicate strap into the buckle, and then carefully press the prong into the hole. It takes some force, but it finally pops through. When I finish I wrap my hand around her ankle and softly stroke her skin.

“How’s that?”

She leans forward on the couch and looks down. I can’t help put peek at her lush cleavage. I swallow hard and struggle to focus.

She smiles. “Perfect. Can you do the other one too?”

I repeat the action, but when I’m done I let my hand trail higher up her calf and back down marveling at her beautiful legs. When I look up at her she’s biting her lip as she watches me. I lift up on my knees so my face is level with hers and our eyes meet. Can she feel how much I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her? But before I can, I feel her hand sweep along the side of my face.

“Thank you.” She pauses as if she wants to say something else, but then sighs. “We better get going or we’ll be late.”

I nod, and slowly stand up and then take her hand, helping her off the couch. Right before we get to the door she stops me, “Hey wait a sec, I need to do your tie.”

“Oh yeah,” I stammer, embarrassed. “I’m no good at these things.”

“Well, I am,” she says softly as the steps up close to me and begins maneuvering the two strips of fabric.

I look down at her. She’s so focused on what she is doing that it gives me the opportunity to stare. Her skin is luminous and her shiny lips slowly part as her hands flutter with the bow tie just under my chin. I’m so drawn to her that I don’t know how I’m going to get through a whole evening without touching her continuously.

When we arrive, Brooke’s movie star beauty is apparent to everyone. As we step out of the limo one of the security managers tries to usher us into the red carpet line. We notice our colleagues heading directly into the theater and we end up having to convince them that we aren’t actors and aren’t supposed to walk the red carpet.

Right before we step inside we are led to an area where we pose for press pictures. I gently slide my hand around the back of Brooke’s waist until I wrap my fingers along her side and pull her closer. I feel incredibly proud to be here with her. My smile is genuine as the flash captures us right as she looks up at me and smiles.

The energy in the air’s exciting but once we’re seated and the ceremony starts it gets dull pretty quickly. I don’t watch much TV so the nominees and shows don’t mean much to me. I only spark up when it’s announced that the animation category is coming after the commercial break.

“Are you nervous? I know we’re favored to win,” I say, searching her face for anxiety. If I were her I’d be a wreck.

“Yeah,” she admits, twisting her hands.

“You’ll do great, you’re a natural. I reach over and squeeze her hand and she smiles warmly.

“I’m glad you’re the one here with me, Nathan.”

My heart’s pounding when our category finally comes up, and two actors start announcing the nominees. When they announce Danny Deletes as the winner, Brooke looks over at me beaming and as we rise out of our seats, I give her a big hug. I don’t sit back down until I know she is safely down the aisle and up the stairs to the stage.

She looks amazingly composed considering that I felt her trembling when I hugged her. Damn, she’s beautiful. I’m so mesmerized watching her that I don’t clearly hear her speech at first, something about accepting for the artist who created the show. But right before she ends, it seems like she’s searching for me in the audience. Her words cut right through me.

“This is for the animation artists who quietly put their hearts and souls into their work to create magic for us all. I’m honored to be a part of their world.”

I take a sharp breath and fall back against my seat. I can’t believe the way she makes me feel. Every time I think it isn’t possible that she could do or say anything to make me love her more, she proves me wrong.

She gives me a shy smile as she settles back into her seat. I lean in closer to her.

“Congratulations, Brooke. You were amazing up there.”

“Thanks. I think your Starbucks cup drawing brought me good luck.”

I smile warmly at her and whisper, “And just for the record, I’m honored to be part of your world.”

Luckily the hair guy, Bradley, had warned me how boring award ceremonies can get, so I came prepared. Well into the second hour, I pull out my mini-sketch pad and pencil and start drawing little caricatures for Brooke of the different people we see on stage. She almost laughs out loud at the one of Ellen DeGeneres dancing with one of the guys from Glee.

When the ceremony torture is over we head over to the Governor’s Ball for what appears to be formal dinner torture. Even though Arnold’s an ass for abandoning Brooke, I’m starting to see why he didn’t mind missing this endless event and all the industry small talk required. Everyone is standing around having cocktails, so I leave Brooke with some people from Disney Animation to go get us drinks at the bar.

When I finally get back there’s some good looking guy standing too close to Brooke and handing her his card. I grip my drink so hard I’m lucky the glass doesn’t shatter. As I step up he looks at me and takes his cue.

“Okay Brooke, call me next week and we’ll have lunch.”

I wish I were one of those guys who could just haul off and punch him, instead I watch him walk away.

“Who’s that?” I ask carefully.

“Richard’s from Disney. He says he wants to meet with me about a potential joint project between the studios for charity.” She glances at me, watching to see my reaction. I can tell she isn’t completely convinced of his motives either.

“Yeah, I bet he wants to meet with you. Are you going to go?” I hand her the drink.

“I don’t know.”

I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. It’s one thing to know she’s with Arnold, but if she starts seeing another man too, I know I won’t be able to handle it. But before anything can get even more tense and awkward, Gene from Nickelodeon joins us and the industry banter starts up again. I just want to get the hell out of here.

When it is time to be seated Brooke looks at me and seems to sense that I’m at the end of my rope.

“Hey, are you all right?”

I nod, not wanting to reveal the jealous beast that is burning inside of me.

She takes my hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you sure? What about the people you should be talking to?”

“I don’t care about that. I’ve done my bit. Let’s go get a burger.” She grins and my heart soars. I whip out my cell phone and call our driver.

Once in the limo we crack open the chilled champagne and clink glasses before settling back into our seats. Due to traffic and construction it’s a slow drive back, so by the time we get to In-N-Out we’re already buzzed.

There’s nothing like the vision of Brooke in her evening gown, perched in a plastic seat, waiting for me to bring her a Double-Double, animal style. The Emmy sits grandly on the Formica-topped table. I can only imagine what the other diners think of us, but I don’t care.

I undo my tie and the top few buttons of my dress shirt so I can breathe. We laugh as we eat, her doing goofy impressions of the speeches while I draw the corresponding caricatures in my little sketchpad. More than once she takes a napkin and wipes the ketchup off my chin. This is how I like my Brooke. This is how we should always be.

We’re even more boisterous on the limo ride back to her house. We finish off the champagne and put our feet up so we are practically lying down. I open up the skylight so we can look at the stars. Something about the vastness of the night sky makes me feel like anything is possible.

When we reach her house I sign for the driver and walk her to the door.

“Thanks for letting me take you Brooke…” I start, hopeful that this isn’t goodbye.

“You’re not leaving yet!” she laughs as she takes my hand and drags me in. “I have some wine open in the fridge.”

Yes! I follow as she pulls me along.

She hands me the bottle while she grabs two glasses and we head back to the living room. I notice she’s walking a little funny.

“Are you okay?” I slide off my jacket and drop it over the edge of a chair.

“Yeah, it’s just my feet are killing me. I can’t wait to get these shoes off.” She lowers herself onto the couch as I uncork the bottle and pour the wine. I hand her a glass and watch her lips skim the edge as she takes a sip.

“We need some music,” she suggests as she settles against the cushions. “Do you have your iPod with you? I don’t want to get up and look for mine.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, but I’m not sure there’s anything you’d want to listen to on my playlists.”

“Don’t be so sure, handsome. Here, let me see,” she teases as she reaches towards me.

I remove my iPod from the inside pocket of my jacket, then hand it to her. “Be gentle,” I implore.

She takes another sip as she skims the many playlists. She grins widely and looks up at me. “The Carl Stalling Project? You have Looney Tunes music on your iPod!”

“Yes,” I admit, my cheeks turning red. “I think it’s cool. Stalling was brilliant.”

“It is cool,” she agrees. “But that’s not the mood I’m looking for.” Her eyes light up as she makes a different choice and then hands it back to me. She gives me a coy look with one eyebrow raised. “Very interesting playlists.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“The dock’s right there.” She points to a small table next to the wall.

I smile and take the iPod back and set it in the dock, without looking to see her choice. The sounds of Marvin Gaye’s, Let’s Get it On fills the room. I freeze, horrified realizing that she found an old playlist titled Make-out Music which I had made when I thought I still had a sexual chance with Rachel. Damn! Why hadn’t I deleted it?

My mind races wondering how I can explain this to Brooke, but I look up and she’s smiling and seems inspired. The buzz from the champagne probably isn’t hurting my cause either. Don’t be an idiot Nathan; she chose that playlist after all. It occurs to me to calm down and just go with it, so I give her an awkward smile back.

She sips her wine and then lifts her leg up and twists her ankle. “Help,” she implores.

“So…you really need my help?” I’m teasing her so she teases back, making it sound so damn sexy.

“Badly,” she suggests.

I step closer and lower myself to my knees in front of her.

The sound of her voice and the look in her eyes does something to me. I slide my hands around her ankles and rub my thumbs back and forth along her insteps. “Can I take these off for you?”

“Please,” she whispers.

I carefully unhook the first delicate strap and then pull it open, before slowly easing it off her foot. I know that she thinks I will merely move onto the other shoe, but I start massaging her gently.

She moans softly. “Oh, that feels so good.”

I smile and look down. Even her feet are perfect.

“Nathan?”

“Uh, huh?” I’m focused on her toes with their little painted toenails.

“I love your haircut. I especially love that he left some of that messy part on top; it’s just enough to pull on.” She reaches forward and winds her fingers in my hair, pulling gently.

If I wasn’t completely turned on a moment ago, I certainly am now.

“You cut your hair for me, for tonight…didn’t you?”

I nod, and shyly look up at her. Part of me doesn’t want that information to make her uncomfortable, the other part wants her to know that I would do anything for her.

“You look so damn sexy in that tux. Will you wear it again for me sometime?”

“Whenever you want,” I murmur as I caress her soft skin just above her ankle. I reach over and start to undo the other sandal.

“You know, Nathan, when the time comes I’m going to have a really hard time sharing you with another girl.”

Oh Brooke, you didn’t just say that, did you? I can’t help but look at her shocked.

She must take my expression the wrong way because her expression falls.

“Oh, but of course. You’re nothing like Arnauld. You probably couldn’t be with more than one woman at a time. Could you?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to be.” I state firmly before I think how she will react.

She nods as she watches me touch her. With one hand tenderly massaging the ball of her foot, the other runs up her calf, each stroke just a little higher.

She closes her eyes and moans again. I notice her legs pull further apart, just slightly, yet the suggestion is there. She lifts the hem of her dress up higher. I’m so excited I can barely breathe.

I picture kissing her between her legs and desire rips through me.

Oh Brooke, can I? Please…please…

Marvin Gaye’s seductive voice in the background is encouraging me to make my move and get it on with Brooke. When he sings how he’s held back the feeling for so long I shake my head knowingly. I also know I may never have this opportunity again.

My hands are now stroking each calf evenly and I take a deep breath and stop at her knees. I’m empowered, sensing the spirit of Marvin is with me. My fingers press into the soft skin, gently parting her legs far enough for me to fit in between. She opens her eyes just as I lean down and begin kissing her on the inside of her thigh, just above her knee.

Her sigh is ragged and wanting as I lower myself even closer. It gives me hope that she’ll let me pleasure her this intimate way. Rachel always said this was something I was truly great at. Now if I don’t get too nervous and fumble, it will be Brooke’s turn to find out why.