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 Robin

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.”

“Oh, I see,” I say calmly. Luckily she can’t see my internal happy dance.

She leads me down a narrow hallway to her home office. The walls are painted a buttery yellow, and the room is bright and cheerful with a window looking over a portion of the canyon.

“So here are the little monsters that have been torturing me.”

I move towards the laptops confidently. This is something I know, and I’m happy to be her tech savior. Hopefully it will make her understand that she can count on me.

I sit down at her desk and open the first laptop. “Okay, I’ll need your password.”

“Buttercup,” she replies without hesitation.

“Like the flower?”

“No, like the Powerpuff Girl.”

I laugh. “I would have taken you more for her sister, Blossom. Buttercup was kind of mean.”

“You don’t know my dark side yet. I can be quite nasty.”

“Really?” It’s hard for me to imagine. “You aren’t mean at all; I just know it.”

“No, not really,” she admits. “But my Dad used to call me Buttercup, and I can have a smart mouth.” She steps closer. “Hey, take off your glasses.”

As soon as I do, she slides her hand up my forehead and pushes my long bangs back. “I knew it! You look like Professor Utonium! You’re tall like him and have that sculpted face and sharp jaw line. I always had a thing for him…he was so loving with his girls.”

“Watch out, your boyfriend Mojo Jojo may get jealous.”

“Are you calling my boyfriend a monkey?”

“Well, you’re the one that talked about his monkey’s back.”

“And he does want to take over the animation world,” she admits.

“Besides calling me the Professor isn’t so great—he was clueless after all,” I say.

“Don’t knock the Professor; he was brilliant in the lab,” she admonishes me.

“Yeah but he was clueless when it came to the girls,” I remind her, laughing.

Brooke smiles at me warmly, and I turn back to the computers and start my diagnostics.

Over the next hour while I check the systems, update her software, and transfer her data, Brooke sits on the daybed in the office and keeps me company. She tells me stories about growing up in West L.A. where her mom worked for a chiropractor and her dad owned an organic food co-op, years before organic food became a trend. She describes herself as bookish and self-conscious because she wasn’t part of the “in” crowd at her middle and high schools. Other kids thought her obsession with cartoons and comics was weird, especially for a girl. She ignored the naysayers and took every kind of drawing and cartooning class until she finally had to accept that she didn’t have the natural talent for it. It wasn’t until she got a chance to intern one summer at Animation Magazine that she found her calling. She ended up earning a scholarship to the USC film school where she focused on the administrative and marketing side of the business. The contacts she made there served her well once she was out of school.

“You know, my first job was with Nickelodeon as an assistant in development, and that’s where I first met Arnauld. He’d come in to pitch a joint production between our studios. The project never happened, but Arnauld and I did. Within six months, he got me hired for a higher level position at Sketch Republic.”

“Management didn’t mind that you were involved?”

“They didn’t seem to,” she admitted. “We’re very professional. Sometimes it feels like more of a professional relationship really.”

As hard as it is to hear about Arnauld, these are the little nuggets I’m gathering in my arsenal to win over Brooke.

Later when Brooke serves me a platter full of weird non-food, like barley salad and brown rice with lumpy tofu gravy, we take our plates outside to enjoy the view. From her balcony, you can see parts of Hollywood and downtown. We are just about to start when her cell phone rings and she sees it’s from Arnauld.

“Do you mind if I take it? We’ve missed each other several times today.”

“Sure,” I agree as I watch her step a few feet back into the house. She’s close enough that I can hear what she says.

“Hey, baby.

Yeah, that sounds like fun. Is Stuart behaving himself?

Yes, I went to the gym, and you’ll be happy to know I took the class and did my full work out. Now I’m eating that crappy healthy stuff you like from Whole Foods.

No, not alone…I’m about to eat with my friend, Nathan, from the studio. He came over and helped me set up my new computer.

Yeah, okay, get going. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t lose too much at the tables.

Okay, me too. Bye.”

She slips back into her chair and stabs a tofu nugget with her fork before wrapping her lips around it.

“Does he mind that I’m here?” I ask nervously. If Brooke were my girl, I’d go atomic to hear another guy was at her house having dinner with her.

“No, not at all. He knows you’re just a friend, but even so—he isn’t the jealous type. Besides we have an open relationship; we’re both free to date other people.”

“You do?” I ask horrified.

“Last month I hooked up with an old boyfriend I hadn’t seen in years. We only went out a couple of times, but it was fun.”

I don’t know if I should be happy with this news or discouraged. She can date other people, but I’m just a friend. I push the nasty food around on my plate as I consider everything.

“You don’t like it?” she asks, nodding towards my meal.

“No, not really. I’m not a health food kind of guy. Don’t worry, I’ll order a pizza when I get home.” I grin at her.

“Oh, thank God!” she laughs as she pushes her plate away. “You’re so fit looking that I figured you ate like Arnauld does. Well, to hell with this crap. Let’s order a pizza! I even have some beer stashed in the back of the fridge.”

“Now, you’re talking.” I didn’t miss that she called me fit. Buying that damn treadmill now really seems like the best investment I ever made.

We dump our food in the trash and tease each other about what toppings to have on our pizza. I draw the line at artichokes…nasty little buggers. They look like alien food.

A couple of hours later, we’re sprawled out on her couch, watching a compilation DVD of independent animated films from the Annecy Animation Festival, and we’re getting a little tipsy from our third round of beer.

“Okay, that one didn’t make any sense at all. Did you understand it?” she asks laughing.

“The story? Was there one? I was too distracted by the weird animation with the wobbly lines.” I moan holding my head with my hands.

“Have you ever submitted a film to a festival?”

“No, but I’ve thought about it. There is a short I did during my first year at Sketch Republic that with a few edits and new titles could be a possibility.”

“Do it!” she yells out.

“Okay!” I yell back, and we both break into a fit of laughter falling back against the couch. I feel so happy just hanging here with her that I’m giddy. I don’t ever want to leave.

When she finally catches her breath she turns to me. “I hope your girlfriend appreciates you.”

I’m so relaxed and content that I open my mouth before I’ve thought it through. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“But I thought…”

“Nope!” I announce assertively, shaking my head. “Who has time for a girlfriend? The only girlfriend I’ve got is the one I draw every night for my comic book.”

“How did I get the idea you had a girlfriend?”

“I have no idea.”

“But don’t you like someone? You must have your eye on someone? You’re amazing and there are a lot of cute girls at Sketch Republic. What about that in-betweener, Genna?”

“Oh, I like someone, but she doesn’t know it.” I take a swig of my beer, and my head spins with my daring proclamation.

“Oh, this is exciting! I know, I know who it is…it’s that adorable Dani who was in your cube the other day, isn’t it?” She’s practically bouncing off the couch.

“Oh, yeah…Dani,” I say sarcastically, but I must be too subtle since she continues along this misguided path.

“I bet she likes you too. What’s stopping you? Have you taken her out?”

“We’ve gone out,” I admit, omitting the fact that the only time Dani and I went out is with Nick and the gang. I begin to wonder why I’m digging this hole. I guess I don’t want her to fully understand yet what a social freak I am.

“Well, did you kiss her? That gives a pretty clear message…hard to miss that, even if she’s clueless.”

My head falls forward as I begin to put all my attention on peeling the label off my beer bottle. My stomach is rolling. “No, I haven’t kissed her. I’m the world’s worst kisser, so that isn’t even an option.”

“What in the hell are you talking about…world’s worst kisser?” she slurs. “That’s impossible.”

“How would you know?”

“I can just tell. You’re creative, and creative guys are the best. Plus you’ve got those lips with that sexy mouth. Hell, I would kiss you just to get closer to your amazing teeth. It’s just impossible.” Her arms are waving dramatically.

“Well I love that you think I’d be great to kiss, but according to Rachel….”

“Rachel?”

“My girlfriend at CalArts…she hated kissing me—refused actually.”

“Do you have bad breath or something?”

Before I can respond, she practically crawls into my lap and puts her nose up to my surprised, open mouth.

“Wow, your breath is sweet, not bad at all.” She falls back to where she was sitting on the couch.

“Gee, thanks. No, my biggest problem is that I’m just stiff and awkward.”

“Oh, please…” She jumps up and reaches out for my hand. “I know I’m tipsy but never mind that. Do you want me to help you?”

“Sure, how?”

“I’m going to help you get over this crazy idea. Come on, stand up.”

I take her hand, and she pulls on me until I push myself up off the couch. I steady myself and smile to see her so serious, her fists perched authoritatively on her curvy hips.

“Okay,” she instructs. “Pretend I’m Dani and we’ve just had a date.” She starts pulling me forward.

Oh, good God, I moan inwardly. This is really getting out of hand. I need to stop it, but like a car crash that you know you should avoid looking at, it seems beyond my control.

“So Dani is walking you to her door to say goodnight. What do you say?”

“Um, I had a great time?”

“No, that’s too generic. Make it about her. ‘Dani, I hope you know how much I love spending time with you.’” She takes my hand, as we get closer to the door. My fingers tighten over hers.

“Dani, I hope you know how much I love spending time with you,” I repeat, my heart thumping wildly with a mix of anticipation and fear.

“Can I see you again?” she asks in a low voice as we reach the door.

I swallow hard. “Can I see you again?” I whisper.

She pushes me against the door, and the look in her eyes undoes me. I forget that she is acting, demonstrating this scene for my benefit. All I can feel is this overwhelming passion I have for her. I’m already excited. Can I, can I?

“Can I kiss you?” she asks with those beautiful eyes searching mine.

“Yes,” I whisper as she steps forward. I feel her hands rest on my chest first before they move up to my shoulders. A second passes, and then she’s so close to me that I can feel the heat from her skin, her full breasts skimming my chest. Oh, Brooke.

What if, like every other time in my intimate history, I’m disappointing? What if she gets disgusted and gives up on me? I’m overwhelmed with fear, but I close my eyes and reach for her with my heart and soul. I say a silent prayer that this will be a moment where my life changes course, all my wrongs with girls will be right…this will be the kiss that’ll change everything. Or will it?