Authors: Ruth Clampett
“Oh, it’s not that. My friend’s dad owns the place, and I’ve been helping them out while their manager is out for a few months recovering from knee surgery. I’ve only been doing it on Saturdays.”
She nods. “Well, show me your work.” She reaches for the sketchbook. “Are you good?”
I quickly step back, making my sketchbook out of her reach. “I’m
really
good,” I state confidently. After all, it’s the one thing I know for sure. I have talent; all my CalArts teachers told me so, and I got a studio job right out of school. “I’d love to show you my work, but this is just my scribbling. I want to show you the good stuff.”
She puts her hand up. “Okay, when you’re ready, I’d be happy to look at your work. You know where to find me.”
Yes, I’d be happy to find you. If she only knew how long I’ve admired her.
“Will you remember me if I ask to show you another time? I mean, you must see a lot of artists’ work.”
Her lips curl up with delight. “Yes, I’m very sure I’ll remember you, Nathan. You’re pretty distinct.”
I dig my wallet out of my back pocket, open it, then pull out the colorful rectangle. “Here, let me give you my card just in case.” I feel suddenly grateful to my dad who taught me to always carry business cards because
you just never knew when opportunity would strike
.
It curls ever so slightly in her palm as she holds it close to read. She flips it over and studies the art on the back. “Nice card,” she affirms before sliding it into her wallet.
“Thanks,” I respond, trying to read every shade of her expression.
She looks up at me and studies me for a moment. “So what’s with the bowtie? Is this a fashion statement?”
I can feel my face get red as I reach up and touch the bowtie that is sewn into my polo shirt. “No, this is the uniform. Can you believe it? And just in case the employees don’t look geeky enough, this outfit seals the deal. We can’t even wear jeans. It’s high-waisted corduroy pants or twill slacks only. When my friend’s dad, the owner, is here, he makes us tuck in our shirts.”
“Oh, that’s priceless!” she says. “It reminds me of those wild outfits the girls wear at Hot Dog on a Stick.”
“You don’t really think I’d wear a pocket protector of my own volition do you?”
“I wasn’t sure. It’s actually kind of sexy in a weird way. I bet you pick up some interesting hotties in that get-up. I bet there’s one waiting for you in the back room.”
My imagination comes to life as I think of Brooke in the back room.
“Yeah, we better hurry this up so she doesn’t get jealous,” I reply with a smile, pleased that I’m bantering. That book I read on how to talk to women seems to be paying off.
“What’s she wearing…your hottie in the backroom?” Brooke is very provocative.
“Not much.”
She laughs.
God, I love her laugh.
“Is she tied up?”
This isn’t helping tame the fantasies I already have about her.
Jesus, hold it together man.
“Maybe.” I cough nervously.
“You animators are all pervy,” she snickers. “I love it.”
She suddenly gets a look in her eyes and leans in closer. “You know you have great teeth. I’m really into teeth…for about five minutes in high school I thought about going to dental school. But when I realized that I wouldn’t just be in sexy mouths like yours I dropped the idea immediately.”
“Thank you.” I smile broadly so that my teeth are showcased nicely. Her off-handed comment about being in my sexy mouth is creating some wild visuals in my head, but I try to refocus.
She appears to like, or at least tolerate geeks, and she definitely likes my teeth. I’m on her radar now, so winning her heart, although unlikely, is no longer up against insurmountable odds. Now it would just be equivalent to winning the lottery and people win the lottery all the time…right?
She reaches toward me to take the bag and her change. “So maybe I’ll see you at work.”
“Yeah, let me know if your connections work…you know the male to female thing.”
Her resulting smile would melt glaciers, and I feel my heart swell inside my chest. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. I swear this is love; what else could it possibly be? I want to pull her into my arms and never let her go.
“I’ll do that,” she says, then turns on her heel and walks towards the door.
I watch every move, committing it to memory…my fingers itching to wrap around a pencil and capture her on paper so that she’ll always be with me.
Her pale, slender hand reaches for the door, and as she pulls it open she turns back toward me, self-assured enough to know that I’m still watching her. “You know, Nathan, don’t let the cool clothes fool you. Deep down I’m a fan-girl geek…always have been, always will be. All my favorite people are too. Us geeks are the cool ones, because we are who we are; we don’t try to be anyone else. Right?”
Although I am doubtful of her declaration, I nod and smile at her before she steps from the shadow of the doorway into the sun. The girl I adore glows in the warm light, brighter than anyone else passing by. As she shimmers and moves away I realize that there is no question in my mind, even if it defies logic or reason.
I am in love.
“
Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” “Yes Brain, but why does the chicken cross the road if not for love?” ~Pinky and the Brain
i
I
pull into the parking garage and scan the reserved spots looking for Brooke’s metallic, pale-green Prius. I usually come in before her, and today is no exception. Yet this morning the feeling of seeing her empty spot is different. Now that we’ve made a connection, I feel protective of her, curious about where she is and what she’s doing.
It occurs to me that she could be with that idiot Arnauld, who she’s rumored to be dating. The jealous beast roars inside of me. Arnauld’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve the perfection that is Brooke. I notice his space is empty as well, and my stomach tenses as I realize that there is every possibility that they are together right now: in the final throes of morning sex, or soaped up and showering together, or perhaps arguing as to who finished off the last of the milk for their Lucky Charms.
Damn him.
I sigh heavily as I blend into the group of employees streaming out of the parking structure and marching towards the building.
I feel so different today as I go through the main entrance and walk past the neon-lit Sketch Republic sign. I am different; I want something now that I gave up wanting a long time ago. The idea of wrapping my arms around a girl and kissing her has suddenly become tangible. I want Brooke to be that girl, and that feeling’s like stretchy cellophane pulled tightly around me.
So when I reach my desk, I’m grateful to have a challenging scene to work on. For all the exuberance of animation, it’s an exacting process that requires complete concentration. I’m hoping this focus will keep me from obsessing about Brooke, but I’m doubtful.
Joel likes to assign the most physical scenes to me because he says I’m old school Tex Avery in my animation style—adopting the master’s stretch and squash flair. This week’s assignment involves a fight between Bucky and Bernie Beaver after Bernie breaks Bucky’s video game remote control. Before I start, I picture in my mind what I want to do with the characters.
I may be a quiet guy on the outside, but my work is always full of energy and expression. A surprised eye may stretch a foot long, or an open mouth’s jaw can drop to the ground. I sharpen my pencil, attach the animation paper to the pegs on the light table, and fall into my work. All of my anxiety and excitement flows through my pencil, and the resulting drawings are particularly energetic.
“Hey dude, what’s up?” Joel leans into my cubicle, and I look up at my desk clock to realize it’s almost noon. I peel out my earbuds while pulling a drawing from the stack that I know he’ll like.
“Is this what you had in mind for this scene?” Bucky has hit Bernie over the head with the broken remote, and now it’s lodged in his forehead like a horn. Bernie’s eyes are large X’s and Bucky’s smile extends freakishly past the edges of his pointed face.
“Oh, yeah,” he howls. “That’s perfect! You always make it even better than I’ve pictured it, Tex.”
Referring to me as animation great Tex Avery is a sure sign that he’s getting ready to ask for something. He usually isn’t so complimentary, and I can hear it in his voice. I raise my eyebrows and tip my head waiting.
“Listen, no pressure or anything but management is demanding all the animators do seven feet this week since we are behind schedule.”
The news is worse than I thought. “Damn, that’s over forty drawings a day. We aren’t a factory pumping out widgets.”
“Sorry. Arnauld is all over my ass because I wanted to redo that scene last week. I’ll bring lunch in for you guys today.”
I tense up and pop my earbuds back in.
That jerk, Arnauld
. He always expects us to work faster and get the work done cheaper. “All right, well then I better pick up the pace.”
By the afternoon my whole body is stiff from bending over the table, and I realize it’s almost four o’clock. This is our magic Starbucks time when a group of us walk over to refuel on caffeine to get us through the rest of the day. The bunch gathers near the elevator and then we pack in when it arrives. I’m squashed in the back corner with rotund Andy, in his
Elmo for President
T-shirt, pressing into me.
Nick groans loudly when the elevator stops at the next floor. My heart surges though when the doors part and Brooke is revealed with her hands on her hips, focused on figuring out how she will fit into the overcrowded space.
“Come on Brooke, we won’t bite,” Nick teases, as he steps to the side and she slides in next to Genna.
“Yeah sure,” she responds. “Last time this happened, I ended up with a ‘fragile’ sticker on my ass.”
“Well, that wouldn’t have been me, darling. You’re one tough cookie—anything but fragile.”
She smiles at him. “So where are all of you going anyway?” she asks, craning her neck and scanning the group.
“Our afternoon Starbucks run,” he responds. “It’s the only way we can survive the tedium of this animation chain gang.”
“Oh, you poor, poor animators!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Go work at Disney then. They serve Starbucks in the break rooms. Of course that means you may have to do Mickey Mouse and that princess stuff.”
“No!” yells out crazy Andy, like he’s just been stabbed in the gut. “Anything but that!”
“Well, why am I not invited on these coffee runs, huh? Are you too good for me?” Brooke asks.
“Look, guys, the development queen wants to hang with the hired help. Well, come with us, your majesty,” says Nick.
She frowns. “I can’t. I have a meeting. A really, really important meeting.”
“Uh huh…” he says playfully.
“Your job may depend on me being at this meeting. No worries though, our mutual caffeine fulfillment is far more important.”
Nick turns to Andy. “See…she’s such a tease. And I bet she drinks one of those stupid drinks too, like a half-caf soy caramel macchiato with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla and a Splenda very, very gently stirred in.”
“Three pumps,” she responds before she makes a grand exit when the door opens on the second floor. My eyes bug out as she steps out to head down the hallway. Her slacks hug her round bottom perfectly, and she turns back with a pivot to look in the car. Our eyes meet for a moment and she smiles, recognizing me. “Later, kids,” she says happily before she turns away. My heart is thundering like a tribal drum.
Everyone’s chattering so much in line that they don’t seem to notice until we are almost back to the studio that I’m holding two drinks.
“Are you double fisting these days?” Nick asks, studying my two cups.
“No,” I say, blushing. “This one’s for someone else.”
“Really?” Nick asks in an exaggerated voice. “And who, pray tell, would that be?”
“Ooooo,” taunts Kevin.
“Does Nathan have a secret luva?” Andy taunts.
“I didn’t think you wanted people to know about us, Andy,” I respond. Since he is the only one without a coffee, he’s the perfect foil. His purchase was a huge brownie that he usually washes down with his jumbo Coke left over from lunch.
“Ha! Gotcha,” Kevin laughs and smirks at me. “So you’re his secret luva taking the place of his life-size vinyl doll?”
Danielle’s eyes grow wide as we step back into the elevator. “He has one of those vinyl life-size dolls? Yucko!”
“You said it,” Nick agrees. “I wouldn’t put my prize in one of those things.”
“Hey, don’t knock the doll, dude,” Andy responds. “She’s really good to me.”
“We should all pitch in and get Nathan one,” Kevin responds. “You two could double date!”
Thankfully Nick moves off topic and starts talking about the latest botched recording where the voice artist doing Bernie showed up coked out. While they’re distracted, I slip away, grateful for an excuse to escape their torture. I head towards the executive offices, and when I see Brooke’s, I notice that her assistant is away from her desk so I boldly step inside. I’m so nervous I’m trembling, but a flash of courage comes over me, and I go with it.
Her office is large, with a sitting area including a large couch.
Maybe one day I’ll sit there next to her,
I happily imagine
.
The couch faces huge windows that look over the Forest Lawn Mortuary and part of the Warner Bros. back lot. As I step closer to the window to check out the view, I notice something different about her office compared to the other executives I’ve seen. Instead of large framed posters on the walls of Sketch Republic’s productions, she has an eclectic gathering of art in styles that look familiar to me. As I step closer, I realize that they are original works from some of our staff artists.
How cool.
I wish she had one of mine up, too. I also notice a print I’ve never seen before from one of my favorite animated movies from another studio. My girl must have a bit of rebel in her, I suspect, grinning. No idiotic Bernie the Beaver posters in here.