Animate Me / Chapter Twenty-Six / Calling on Wonder Woman

“Kill my boss? Do I dare live out the American dream?” ~Homer Simpson

“No, fucking way!”

Dani looks like she’s going to kill somebody, well, Mojo to be precise.

“Can he do that?” Nick asks, looking sick to his stomach.

“I’m not sure. If I fight it—even if he doesn’t win the lawsuit—it sounds like he’s going to drag me through court for a long time. I think he’ll keep it going until he breaks me financially and emotionally.”

They both stare at me with horror etched across their faces.

“But in some ways he’s already broken me. If you could’ve seen Brooke’s face…”

“Fuck,” whispers Nick, shaking his head.

“And the asshole is like, ‘Brooke I’m so sorry for what this sniveling loser has done to you…’ like he’s going to comfort her from my freaky exploitation and abuse.”

“Mother fucker,” Dani gasps. “You’ve got to fight this Nathan!”

“I will,” I say with determination. “What choice do I have? If he wins and steals B-Girl I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

“What’s Brooke say about it?” Nick asks concerned.

“I haven’t been able to talk to her yet. They must still be talking to her.”

“Talking? You mean breaking her down,” throws in Dani.

“And I’ve called her several times but her phone’s still off. Morgan’s on alert to call me as soon as she’s out of there. I just need a chance to explain everything to her.” My head falls. “I need her.”

“I know, man…I know,” Nick says. “She loves you. No matter how bad it looks right now, she’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right,” I say, trying not to crumble inside. “I know Mojo is going to keep messing with her, and that kills me.”

“The mother fucker needs a message,” Dani announces cryptically.

Nick lights up. “What we talked about earlier?”

“Yes, yes. Let’s go see my brother after we leave here. This will be right up his alley.”

“You’re a genius,” Nick says with admiration. “The army is building as we speak. It will be epic.”

“I know,” she acknowledges. “And together we will rock this thing.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask warily. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing you need to know,” Dani informs me.

“You guys…seriously, I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account.”

“It’s not just you, Nathan; although of course your situation has inspired us. This is for all the artists and creative people who get fucked over by the suits. This is for all of us.”

“Okay, just be careful,” I implore. “I can’t take anymore guilt right now. If you lost your jobs too, I don’t think I could handle it.”

“We are super-sleuths, we are ninjas,” she hisses. “By tomorrow…”

“Honey, realistically we’re thinking the day-after-tomorrow…”

“By the day after tomorrow,” she continues, “Mojo will see his future with the very people who make his worthless ass look good, and believe me, Nathan, it won’t be bright.”

After Nick and Dani leave I call my Dad and give him the bad news. As if it wasn’t horrible enough to tell him about Arnold stealing B-Girl, my humiliation is complete in having to describe Brooke and my conference room antics. He asks about Brooke, and I explain that I haven’t talked to her yet, that I’m not sure how she feels about me after the big reveal. With a heavy heart I finally tell him about her lack of response when I called out to her before she left the meeting.

I’m grateful he doesn’t lecture me, just remains quiet as I try to rationalize my reckless stupidity. When I’m done, he offers to call Walter on my behalf. I can sense how worried he is about me when not even a single calculation or deduction is worked into his quiet words.

Only moments after we hang up, my phone rings. I answer it so quickly I don’t even check my screen for who it is.

I hear the cries first and my heart clenches. My fingers tighten over my cell phone.

“Brooke?” I gasp.

“No…Mor…gan,” she stutters.

“Are you alright, Morgan? What’s happened?” I ask, worry flooding through me. Our tough friend has cracked. This is bad.

She takes a deep ragged breath. “Everything’s fucked, isn’t it Nathan?” she asks.

“Yes,” I admit solemnly.

“Brooke’s gone,” she offers. “She left and I have a feeling she isn’t coming back.” She starts to cry again, and I feel sick with worry for her and for me.

“Where are you?” I ask. “Do you need me to come get you?” I have to get to Brooke, but I need to take care of Morgan too.

“No, I need to stay here and watch the fort for Brooke just in case. They just came and took her computer.”

“Fuck.” This is really happening.

“What did you mean, Morgan…when you said she’s gone?”

“She gave me her phone and said she was going to disappear for a while. She told me that she considered me a cherished friend. And that she was going to miss me.” She starts crying again.

Why would she give Morgan her phone before she even called me back? Did she even get my message?

“Disappear? What did she mean, ‘disappear’?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen her like that. She was crying. She looked awful and scared… like she was about to walk through fire.”

“Brooke…” I whisper.

“There was something about them being able to track her with her phone.”

Oh my, God. My Brooke’s scared, really scared. I have to get to her. But in the same moment I realize that without her phone, I have no way to reach her, to find her. She’s lost to me too. “Did she tell you where she’s going?” I ask.

“No, she said I couldn’t know, but that she would contact me on my cell phone as soon as she could.”

It’s not like Brooke to be paranoid. This is freaking me out. “Do you have any idea where she would go?”

“Not really…” Morgan sniffs, then continues, “…because from the sound of it, she won’t go somewhere obvious like her friend, Jenn’s. It sounds like she doesn’t want to be found.”

It also doesn’t sound like she’s coming to me and that realization kills me. She knows I’d do anything for her, but I’m not the one she wants right now.

Still on the phone, I stand up and grab my car keys. I’m halfway to my car before I realize that I didn’t even close my front door. I force myself to sit on my front step, realizing that I have to calm down and focus. I can’t drive in this state or I’ll be unsafe to others. I take a deep breath.

“Okay, Morgan, let me think for a minute. Let’s go back a few steps. How long was she in HR?”

“Well, over an hour,” she says calming down once she hears I’m trying to stay calm.

“And then?”

“She came back here white as a ghost and really agitated. She told me to get that head lawyer from legal, Ruiz on the phone. Then she went in her office and closed the door.”

“Okay, so she talked to the lawyer…” I prompt.

“And then after a few minutes I see her extension’s light on my phone go off. So I wait a bit, and when she doesn’t come out I knock on the door. She doesn’t answer, so I crack the door to peek in.”

“And?” I ask anxiously.

“Damn, Nathan, she was curled over her desk with her face down, sobbing…just sobbing. Oh, God. It was awful. So I let myself in, closing the door behind me. I went to her, but I wasn’t sure what to say, what to do…so I just offered her a bunch of Kleenex.”

“Did she say anything?”

“She just kept chanting, ‘it’s my fault…because of me…he’s ruined.’”

“Ruined?” I feel like I just got punched in the stomach. I know she’s talking about me.

“I’m so sorry, Nathan. What did they do to you?”

“Arnold’s stolen my comic book and taken ownership.”

“Fuck…no! I knew it was something really bad. I knew he’d get revenge somehow for Brooke falling in love with you.”

“Yes, I knew he would too. I just never dreamed it would be this.”

“Well, that would explain what she said next. She told me to tell you that she was going to do everything she could to stop it. That she couldn’t face you again until she fixed this somehow.”

“Did she say how she was going to fix it?”

“No, I couldn’t even tell if she had a plan, or if she was just rambling in despair.”

“Did she say anything else?”

There’s a long pause.

“What, Morgan?”

“Shit, Nathan, I don’t want to tell you this…”

“I need to know everything. Please.”

“Then she told me that she knew all along she wasn’t good enough for you, and this just proves it. You’d be so much better off without her fucking up your life.”

“What?”

What?

I’m almost angry at her…furious. How can she say that after everything we’ve shared together? I need her right now more than ever.

“Maybe she was just being dramatic, Nathan. She was so distraught.”

“I’m going to go to her house, and see if she’s there. She would have to go get stuff if she’s leaving for a while.”

“Hurry then,” she warns. “I’m sure she won’t be there long. She’s been gone for at least an hour now. I couldn’t get away to call with all the computer stuff going on. And before that, Arnauld stormed over here and yelled, then interrogated me because I was supposed to call his office the moment she returned from HR”

“The fucker yelled at you?”

“Yeah, evidently he wasn’t done with her yet. And you know what? I don’t care if he fires me. Dealing with him just then was the last thing she needed.”

I feel a powerful surge of gratitude towards Morgan. “You did the right thing. Thanks for always looking out for Brooke,” I say reassuringly.

“Of course.”

“Okay, I better go. I’ll check in with you later.”

“All right. Hey, Nathan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for all of us.”

• • •

I put all my focus into driving since my mind and spirit are shot. I keep my cool until I get all the way around Lake Hollywood only to find that they have the road closed due to a movie location shoot. The location cop informs me that unless I can wait about forty-five minutes, the only thing I can do is retrace my steps and then come up from the front, through Hollywood. That alone will take almost thirty minutes or more because of traffic. And that’s when I lose my cool.

I turn my car around like an Indie 500 driver and gun it on the windy road around the lake. By the time I hit Barham Blvd. heading towards Hollywood, I’m completely amped up.

She can’t just fucking leave me when I need her most. She told me she loved me. She told me it was forever. It was one thing when I thought she was mad at me about B-Girl, but this is something else.

I’m mad at this weak Brooke who slinks away from me when things get rough. I want my strong Brooke, who will stand by me in battle. We could fight this together.

As soon as I pull up to her place I can tell she’s already gone. I let myself in the gate, then futilely ring the doorbell over and over and peer in the front windows. There’s no sign of her.

I’ve never felt more defeated. I sit on her doorstep with my head in my hands trying to figure out what to do next. “Don’t do this to me, Brooke,” I whisper. “Please don’t do this to me.”

I’m almost back to my house when my cell phone rings.

“Where are you?” Curtis asks, forgoing formalities.

“Driving home.”

“Come to Billie’s store. Dad called and told me what’s going on. We need to talk.”

“I don’t think I can, Curtis. I’m a wreck.”

“Brooke was here not long ago. Billie tore into her.”

“I’ll be right there.”

When I finally arrive at the Outer Limits, Billie has a worried expression as they approach me. Curtis nods an abbreviated greeting.

“Curtis says Brooke was here,” I say directly to Billie. “What happened?”

Billie stops right in front of me and rests her fists on her hips defensively. Her expression morphs from concern, to stormy, to fierce.

“I told her to get the fuck out of my store.”

I groan and pull my hands over my face.

“Why, Billie?”

“Curtis had just called me with the lowdown, how she didn’t come to your defense in the meeting…and then she showed up here. She was trying to buy a complete set of your comics and it pissed me off. What if she’s taking them to that asshole Arnauld guy?”

“I assure you. He already has a set.”

“And then she started to cry like a baby, and babble that it isn’t what I think. Plus, some bullshit that she wants to help you. “So I asked why she wasn’t with you when you needed her most. Didn’t she understand what it meant to be loved like that? Enough that you would create a character in her name and show her all the love in the world? I mean what the hell?”

“Oh, Billie,” I say defeated.

“She blubbered about not being good for you, that you would be better off without her.”

I shake my head in despair.

“So I told her that if she was that big of a wimp, in my opinion, she’s right…but that you would never see it that way. If she abandons you, it’ll kill you.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She just cried harder. What an emo.”

“Billie!”

“So I told her to take the books and that I didn’t want her money. I just want her to do the right thing by you.”

I look at Billie. She’s right, and she’s wrong about Brooke. Either way I’m fucked.

“What? If she’s going to abandon you when you need her most, then I’m done with her. I’m sorry Nathan, but it’s wrong.”

“It’s not what you think Billie. She also told her assistant that she’s going to try to help me. Even if Brooke is mad about B-Girl, I need to believe she still cares about me. I swear, she wouldn’t just let Arnold take me down without trying to do something. Can’t you see that?”

“I’m only looking at what’s right in front of me. And you should too.”

Her words haunt me the entire drive home and with each passing hour it gets worse.

Brooke could have reached me by now. I don’t care if it was by a damn payphone or telegram. If she knows me at all she’d know how desperately I’d need some reassurance about now.

Even if she can’t handle the fact that I’d obsessed about her so long and hid B-Girl from her, she owes it to me to at least talk about it. A stream of anguished thoughts loops in my head, playing over and over and over until I think I’m going mad. I make a calculated decision to surrender to alcohol to numb my tortured, hopeless thoughts.

• • •

It’s a long dark night with my silent cell phone clutched in one hand, an iceless, amber filled glass in the other as I wander aimlessly through my haunted house. I’m a ghost, my deep sighs painful echoes, as I fear the loss of the life I’d always wanted.

I see Brooke everywhere…her shimmering mirages taunt me. But every time I reach for her, my shaky fingers grasp nothing but air.

The next morning, the bright light in the bathroom scorches my eyes. I stand with a slight wobble before I adjust and approach the sink.

What day is it anyway? Ah yes, Tuesday…the day after the worst day in my life.

I glare at my reflection. Good thing Brooke isn’t seeing me now. This would pretty much seal the deal.

“Hey Nathan, did you know that Jack Daniels is not a good substitute for Brooke?” I ask myself aloud.

“No?” I answer.

My reflection in the mirror is blurry. It’s probably not a good sign that I’m talking to myself.

“But last night I sure thought the Jack Daniels was worth a try.”

In the mirror I watch my hands lift in a gesture like I’m explaining my reasoning. I then scowl and shake my head disapprovingly.

“Back to the drawing board, Nathan.”

I lean over the sink and splash water across my swollen face and puffy eyes.

I thought only crazy people talked to themselves. So now I’m a crazy fucker.

Morning is a cold, hard bitch.

With considerable inner conflict, I answer the phone call from my Dad. Apparently my zombie-like responses to his questions discourage him.

“Nathan. Pull it together. Have you eaten anything, or did you just imbibe last night?”

“Do you really want to know?” I ask, disheartened.

“Ah, Son. I’m coming over there. But first there’s good news. Walter just called, and they aren’t pursuing the conference room issue. Seems that yesterday Brooke convinced them it was consensual, that she encouraged the aggressive behavior. She also told them that she absolutely wanted to copulate with you while bent over the conference room table.”

“Dad. Stop. I really don’t want to hear it.” I can’t even feel relieved.

“Well, I am extremely reassured that this predatory Lothario issue has been put to rest. But have I taught you nothing, Son, about risk aversion? Next time, take a moment to factor the hazards of exposure, versus the fleeting, yet euphoric moment of physical release. Practicality will win out every time.”

“Yes, I’m an idiot. Noted,” I slur, slightly. “Are we done?”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Maybe.”

“Take a shower, and get dressed. I’m on my way over.”

Minutes after we hang up I hear bells ringing again. The mother fucking noise needs to stop. I realize in my stupor that it’s my phone and I finally answer it.

“Nathan?”

“Yes, Walter?”

“I need you to go through all of your art, and look for any examples of how you could have been developing these characters before your time at Sketch Republic.”

“But I didn’t develop them until I was at Sketch Republic.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding me Nathan. Do you want to win or not?”

As I hang up I feel a jolt of reality. Do I want to win? Is he fucking kidding? I have to win. Despite my pathetic state of despair, I haven’t lost sight of the fact that Brooke and B-Girl are everything to me. I sink into the living room chair and imagine my life without my two best girls, and my throat starts to tighten until I feel like I can’t breath. My eyes scan across the cases of collectibles, and note that each figurine and action figure is stoically posed and still as if waiting for their command for our upcoming battle. Are they worried about me? Do they miss Brooke too? I have to imagine they do…who wouldn’t?

I get up to find my phone and decide to leave a message on the land-line at Brooke’s house.

“Brooke, if you ever come back to your house and listen to your answering machine, and if you ever care about me and what I think again, will you call me? I thought this was it — you and me, true love and all that stuff. Now you’re gone, and I’m lost.”

“I’m dying here. Can you call me?”

• • •

Dad finds me in the backyard, sitting in a lawn chair in my Scooby PJ bottoms and no top. The near-empty bottle of Jack Daniels is on the ground next to me, but the large bottle of water is my drink of choice now, as I slowly take sips and stare at the shrubs.

He sighs with resignation, and pulls up a chair across from me. He just sits quietly for a while and observes me. Finally he clears his throat and starts to speak, but before he gets the words out, I hold up my hand to stop him.

I shake my head firmly, and he leans back silent. Another minute passes.

“Maybe it was all a dream?” I finally offer.

“Yesterday?” he asks.

“No, yesterday was very real. Maybe everything before yesterday was a dream…the part where Brooke was in love with me. I had a great job and a comic book deal…because now they’ve all evaporated into thin air, so maybe they were never real.”

He looks me directly in the eyes. “Son, the only thing gone is that job. And as it was, you were ready to move on from that. The rest is still abundantly real. They are still yours to have. You just have some fastidious work to do.”

“I’m not sure I have it in me, Dad. I don’t know if I can fight my way through this without Brooke.”

Dad pulls his fingers through his hair frustrated. I think I’m making him crazy, but I’m beyond caring at this point.

“You must pull yourself together and fight, Nathan. You have to do it for yourself, and you have to do it to show her what you’re made of.”

“But maybe she doesn’t love me anymore. Maybe I’ll never make it up to her. Maybe I’ll live the rest of my life alone.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put up with this peevish whining today, considering the state you’re in and what you’ve just been through. But then, enough. You need to find your confidence and potent strength for battle, Son, not just wallow in your disappointments.”

“I have every right to wallow,” I moan, leaning forward with my face in my hands. My elbows dig into my knees and the pain almost feels good. “I could be the fucking king of wallow.”

“Nathan, what do you imagine Brooke would think if she saw you like this?”

“That I’m a loser not worth her time.”

Dad clears his throat and there’s a long moment where I can tell he is weighing his words, making mental flowcharts of my potential responses and the appropriate counter argument for each one.

“Son, have you forgotten that Brooke is on some type of mission to help you? Does that mean anything to you? Her actions regarding secrecy and walking away from her carefully honed position shows her unwavering commitment to you. It also ensures she won’t make you any more vulnerable to Arnold than you already are.”

“I can’t imagine why she’s doing anything. I think she hated B-Girl.”

“You have no way of knowing that. Just because she acted disinterested with a group she knew were counting on a dramatic reaction, shows she’s cunning and fast on her feet. I refuse to underestimate her abilities, and if I were you I wouldn’t either.”

“Really?” I ask weakly.

“You will never know how she really feels about B-Girl until you are together alone and have a chance to talk it out. I sense that won’t happen until she knows you are safe from his treachery.”

“I guess,” I say uncertainly.

“Give her some time, Son. She will come to you when she’s ready. Remember she was hit hard yesterday too. It also doesn’t sound like she has a support system like you do. She was exposed and humiliated from the conference room footage. She no longer has a job, whether by her volition or not. Finally she found out that the man she was in love with, kept a very large secret from her, that involved her, for their entire relationship.”

His words hit me hard, my angry outer shell cracking and falling in small pieces around me. I take a swig of water and sit a little taller in my chair. “What do I do now?”

“You need to focus on your defense and cooperate with Walter. Go through all of your art and look for anything at all that could help your case. Take rigorous care of yourself during this time of extreme stress…no more binge drinking. Your electrolytes must be completely out of equilibrium.”

“Everything’s out of whack,” I admit, rolling my eyes.

“You need to structure your day, work out fastidiously and eat healthy.”

Damn…my Dad and his practical insanity can be incredibly annoying at times.

“Eat healthy?” I stretch out my legs and notice the Scooby-Doo on my right shin must have gotten doused with scotch at some point last night.

Dad stands. “Look, get in the shower and I’ll find something in the kitchen for you to eat. When you’re done, you need to start going through your archives. We’re meeting with Walter in the morning.”

At first the hot shower feels like a thousand needles penetrating my skin, but after a minute it actually soothes me. By the time I get out and dry off, I start to feel human again…still miserable, but at least human. When I step into the kitchen I smell brewing coffee and peanut butter.

Arthur looks stern as he shakes his head. “Your cupboards are practically bare, Nathan. The best I could do is peanut butter and jelly. There’s barely evidence here of two major food groups, the other three are completely missing. I’m surprised you aren’t showing signs of malnutrition.”

I shrug. “I love peanut butter and jelly. And I usually have milk here for my Lucky Charms cereal, but Brooke and I were so busy this week and I ran out. That’s another food group…three outta five, Dad.”

He just shakes his head, as he pushes the plate towards me and then pours a mug of coffee.

He joins me at the table and like a papa bear, watches me slowly eat. We don’t talk, but we’re comfortable in the silence. As my head starts to clear I can’t help but appreciate that he’s here trying to help me.

When I’m done I push the plate away, and briskly rub my face. “Okay,” I say, trying to assure him I’ll be all right, even if I’m not so sure myself.

“Okay,” he responds relieved. “So are you going to get to work now?”

I nod.

“Good boy.”

I smile at him, and he smiles back when he realizes how that sounded.

He stands to leave. “I’m going to call you later and if I don’t hear progress, I’ll be back,” he warns grinning.

Did my Dad just do a Schwarzenegger-Terminator impression? I can’t help but smile. “Okay. Thanks Dad.”

He pulls me into a hug. “I love you, Son. We’re going to get through this.”

“I believe you, Dad. And I love you too.”

• • •

As I pull open the first drawer in my home office, my internal struggle starts. I close my eyes wincing. I’m just not sure I can do this right now. I open my eyes and briefly look at the neat stack of drawings. Every sketch makes me think of Brooke, and Starbucks cups, Arnold taking B-Girl, and Sketch Republic going on without me. Resisting the urge to flee, I look over to the window and notice my Wonder Woman figurine perched on the nearby shelf. I get up and walk over to her, admiring her majestic stance.

With a sudden impulse, I pick her up and carry her back to my desk area. I pose her on top of the bookcase facing where I’m trying to work. A feeling comes over me.

“Hey, Wonder Woman,” I say in a quiet voice. “I could use a little motivation right about now. Could you help me out?”

I don’t even feel like the freak I am as I study her, waiting patiently for her response. “If you could talk, I bet you would tell me to be strong…wouldn’t you?”

I reach over and tip her head forward like she’s nodding.

“Can you share a little of your super powers with me? And as long as I’m going down crazy lane, can I ask one other thing?”

Her little eyes gaze at me intently.

“Can you look out for Brooke too?”

I don’t even have to nod her head for her, because just then the light from the window shifts and she kind of glows. I might be imagining it, but it gives me comfort nonetheless. She’s going to help show us the way.

I reach into the open drawer with new resolve. My heart may be shattered, and I still fear I may never hold my Brooke again, but I’ve got to prove to myself and Brooke what I’m made of. I’m gonna try to fight for my B-Girl like any superhero would.

I look back at the little heroine and nod. “Okay, Wonder Woman, let’s get this done.”