“No one has ever made me feel like this.” She tightens and sighs, then opens deeper.
We are meant for each other, Brooke
The way her hair fans across the sheets is startling, a silk headdress, worthy of a queen.
“Do I feel good to you?” she whispers, then moans.
I can’t…I can’t find the words for her perfection
“Jesus, Brooke.”
Shining eyes. “…oh, my love,” she whispers.
I curl over her, and her legs trail mine as my strokes go deeper, harder, pushing us somewhere we’ve never gone. She gasps with each thrust and I feel her sigh of surrender right before my movements become desperate and hard.
“I love you…so…much,” I stutter.
She cries out and pulls me close as we climax. The world falls away as we hold each other tightly in our own mysterious and unending galaxy.
Our bodies seem to stay connected long after we finally pull apart.
• • •
I wake just as dawn breaks and slowly realize where I am. Brooke’s wrapped around me like a starfish on her rock and I sigh with contentment. The memory of the night before fills me with hope and resolve.
In the quiet I conclude that it’s a waste of time to worry about our future. It is certain and destined, even if we have to crawl out of the jungle to shed a monkey on our journey. Brooke will find another job, I have B-Girl and plenty of savings…but most importantly, we will be together.
By the time Brooke wakes, my positive attitude is solid and it rubs off on her too. We watch the DVD collection of Gumby and Pokey episodes over coffee, toast and jam. When it’s finally time to head out, I keep it light agreeing that I’ll text her mid morning. I resolve to listen to Wayne Dyer on my iPod as long as possible while I visualize Brooke and I, united in our own little world.
• • •
I try to focus on work and get a fair amount done. I’m proud I’ve lasted until almost eleven before I finally text her.
Thinking about my girl…how’s it going? Have you seen Mojo yet?
I’m fine, love. No, he’s been in closed-door meetings all morning so I haven’t had to deal with him yet.
Okay. I’ll check in with you later. I love you.
I love you too. XO
I take a break from Bucky and take some time to study Joel’s Robbie model sheets for the new project when I suddenly hear my name.
“Nathan?”
I think I recognize her from HR. She always has the fake happy look on her face.
“Yes?”
“I need you to come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“We need to talk to you.”
“We? Can you tell me what’s this about?”
“Please just come with me,” she insists. The happy smile is gone.
So this is how it’s going to go. I turn off Wayne Dyer silently hoping that he stays with me even if I have to leave my iPod behind.
I follow her to the elevator. It’s the most nerve-wracking ride I’ve ever had, the silence is like a deafening scream. As soon as we step off I realize that we’re heading towards Arnold’s office.
“Why aren’t we going to HR?” I ask, trying to manage my nerves.
“It was decided to have this meeting here.” She says simply likes she’s giving me directions to the mailroom or something.
When she pulls open his office door I pause at the threshold, realizing that there isn’t a single thing inside I’m ready for. Curtis taught me that in football a blindside is when you are tackled without seeing it coming. My instincts tell me to run the other direction, but I know a man must face things head on.
I am Brooke’s man, and I will not run.
I step inside and scan the room. The main HR lady is in the first seat, sitting so upright she looks like she has a metal rod up her back. Then there are two suits watching me carefully, another strangely familiar looking guy sitting just outside the pack and then finally Arnold, seething like a monkey who’s had his banana taken away. The death glare he gives me would totally derail me if Wayne and his affirmations didn’t have my back.
Brooke is gloriously absent from this train wreck and I’m so glad. It’s the one bright spot of relief in this cheery gathering.
“Please have a seat Mr. Evans,” suit lady directs and points to the chair facing the firing squad. “These are our lawyers, Mr. Ruiz and Mr. Felton,” she informs me as she points to the suits on my right.
Damn.
I have two thoughts. The first is that I’m pretty sure I’m not here to get a promotion. I have to fight off a smile at my humor in the face of disaster.
The second is that they can fire me for some bogus reason and blast me out of here on a rocket. It’s not going to change anything that matters to me.
Fuck them…every single one of the soulless fuckers.
I move to the chair, sit down and fold my arms over my chest defiantly. Let’s get this done.
I’m ready, you raving assholes.
Bring it on.
Animate Me / Chapter Twenty-Five / What’s Mine is Yours?
“Hurry Cecil, he’s wrecking our terribly happy magic kingdom!” ~Beany Boyxxiv
“Nathan Evans?” Suit lady asks.
Is this a trick question? My sullen audience regards me warily. I glance around the room and note that Mojo only has framed posters of Sketch Republic shows up and the show pictured in front of me was canceled last season. He really should get that replaced.
“Yes?”
“Are you familiar with the employee conduct rules that you agreed to when you were hired here at Sketch Republic?”
She holds up the rule book they gave us at orientation.
“Sort of. I mean I didn’t read it, but I know the basics; don’t kill your co-workers, stuff like that.”
“This is serious, Mr. Evans.”
I just stare at her with my game face. She must not want to play. Well, I really don’t want to play either. “Yes, I think I understand the rules pretty much.”
“Note that on page seventeen it clearly addresses the rule against excessive fraternization on company property.”
“Excessive?”
A disturbing feeling crawls through me. Where the hell is she going with this? As if I wasn’t unsettled enough, the guy lurking just behind Arnold is staring me down. I look back over to the HR lady, the confusion evident in my expression. My arms loosen where they are folded over my chest, and fall down to my sides.
“Are you aware that there are security cameras in our conference rooms?”
Cameras in the conference rooms…filming what? Oh my God.
Fuck
Fuck, no
My stomach is now somewhere near my knees. I suddenly feel naked, in front of Arnold and the suits, no less. “No.” I admit with great reluctance.
“What was that, you fucking pervert geek?” Arnauld yells.
“Hey!” I yell back. It’s bad enough knowing he must have watched the footage, but if I’m getting fired anyway, I’m done with his crap.
“Arnauld,” one of the suit men barks, holding their hand up like a stop sign.
My mind goes blank but for one thought.
Brooke
We had sex in that room, never realizing we would unknowingly acquire an audience who doesn’t appreciate the allure of Brooke bent over the super-sized conference table. I know I’m flushed crimson, and I hate myself for it. I clear my throat. “I see. No, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t okay according to the employee guidebook.”
“I’m going to take you down, you little fucker,” Arnold growls.
“Arnauld! Do we need to step outside for a moment?” the bigger suit asks.
“No,” he barks. “Let’s get this done.”
“So I’m fired. Anything else?” I scoot to the front of my seat. I just want to get out of here, and protect Brooke from what’s sure to come…the sooner the better.
“I don’t think you understa
nd how serious this is Mr. Evans.” The smaller suit advises. “We’re very concerned because it appears that some level of force was used in the activities on the video from the conference room recording.”
Holy shit.
Force? What are they saying?
The scenes that afternoon start to flash through my memory: pulling Brooke down to her knees, pushing my cock into her mouth. This is what the camera saw, but it must not have heard Brooke asking me to do those things…telling me she wanted it that way.
The blood drains out of my face as it occurs to me how bad this would look on camera. Could they be thinking I took Brooke with aggression against her will? I feel my breakfast rise up in my throat and I choke it back. Surely, once they talk to her they will realize they misunderstood the events. Right?
“Now Mr. Evans, I would strongly advise you to speak with your lawyer before you comment. This is an extremely serious situation.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I insist, ignoring his warning. “It was completely consensual. I swear. Ask Brooke.”
“Again, I advise you to wait for your lawyer, Mr. Evans.”
“Brooke would never want that,” Arnold fiercely insists. He looks like he’s going to beat the crap out of me. I hope he doesn’t have a gun in his desk drawer because I wouldn’t put anything past that fucker.
Despite his fury, I can’t hold back. “Like you’d know,” I retort.
His fists curl and he looks like he’s going to explode. “I’m going to…”
“Arnauld,” the bigger suit looks angry.
The whole room’s starting to spin. Jesus, I have to get out of here. I turn back to the Human Resources woman. “So what are you going to do to me now?”
“You will be released from employment and escorted from the building. Do you have a lawyer?” She asks.
I nod silently, thinking about my parent’s long time lawyer, Walter, who’s been helping me with my Sharper Edge contract. I’m sure he’ll help me with this.
“Okay, you need to make arrangements with your lawyer, and tomorrow we’ll meet with both of you to determine if charges will be pressed. We’ll be speaking with Ms. Tobin shortly.”
Speaking with Brooke…Escorted from the building…
A sick feeling of dread washes over me, so with trembling hands I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone, then turn on the texting feature.
“What’s he doing? Take his fucking phone away!” Arnold demands.
“I’m texting my lawyer,” I insist.
“Arnauld, it’s his right,” someone says as I look down to focus on my phone.
I tap out the long message as fast as I can, indicating three receivers. Meanwhile I can hear the firing squad discussing me in the background.
To: Morgan, Dani and Nick
HELP. I’ve been fired and soon will be escorted from the building. Morgan please warn Brooke-conference room has a camera. D&N go get the drawings out of my bottom drawer NOW and save them for me. PLEASE
I hit send. When I look up they are still quietly discussing something in cryptic shorthand among themselves so I wait, my knees bouncing wildly. Less than a minute later my alert goes off.
THAT IS FUCKED-don’t worry, Nick’s getting them. They’re safe with us.
Well, that’s something at least. But the next message from Morgan is a blow.
Too late-they already have her.
I’m snapped back to attention.
“Now, Mr. Evans, there’s another matter we need to discuss.”
“Another matter?” I ask weakly. I’m not sure I can take anything else.
He opens up a file folder and pulls out a document and sets it on the coffee table we’re sitting around. It looks like one of the many forms I signed when I started here. Even from this distance, I recognize my signature at the bottom.
Next he opens a large manila envelope and pulls out a stack of comic books. The moment he lays them on the table and fans them out I break out into a cold sweat. In perfect order he has laid out every copy of B-Girl.
“Why do you have those?” I ask, panicked. “They don’t have anything to do with Sketch Republic.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Mr. Evans. They have everything to do with Sketch Republic.” The lawyer turns to HR lady. “Okay, we’re ready for her.”
I look up at Arnold and I can’t read his intense expression. Whatever he’s up to, it’s going to be far worse than anything I’ve feared. Hate doesn’t begin to describe the way I feel about him. It’s a good thing I don’t have a gun either, because now I’m afraid I’d use it too.
In my stupor, I have a vague sense of HR lady moving outside the room and a moment later the door opening again. I turn just in time to see Brooke step inside the office. To say she looks stunned would be an understatement. She looks rigid with fear.
Her eyes scan the crowd. She calculates each face and who they are, and by the time she gets to me her expression has fallen. I see sheer terror on her beautiful face. When our eyes connect there’s a tenderness in her expression, but just then Arnold taps the chair next to him.
“Brooke, come sit here.”
She doesn’t know about the conference room yet. Her vulnerability in the face of this terrifies me. I wish I had mental telepathy or something so I could let her know what’s happened. I sense if I yell something out anyway, it will only make things worse for her. She’s a deer in the headlights. Is she the next one to be sacrificed?
I note that she scans the setting again as if she’s looking for another place to sit, but it’s the only empty seat. She moves to it slowly, with great hesitation. Her gaze fixes on the lurking guy, and it’s as if she suddenly understands something I don’t.
She starts to get her bearings as she sits. “What’s this about?” she demands with authority. “Why is Nathan here?”
“This meeting is about him and some of his activities while an employee of our company,” explains the suit named Ruiz. “You’ve been brought into this particular discussion because it involves you.”
“Really?” she asks with confidence. “How?”
Ruiz picks up the first issue of B-Girl from the pile and hands it to her. I want to dive over the table and take it back. This isn’t how I wanted her to meet B-Girl. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.
“Do you know what that is?”
“Well, clearly a comic book. What about it?” She doesn’t look down. She seems to understand that when she does everything’s going to unravel.
“Can you please examine it, Brooke, and read the title to me.”
She looks down and studies the cover, not just the title but the center image of B-Girl, where she undoubtedly sees her own reflection looking back at her. She doesn’t react with recognition, pleasure or anger; she just closes her eyes and drops her head.
All my worst fears about her meeting B-Girl have just been realized. My heart falls.
“Read it,” Arnold demands.
She opens her eyes and studies it again warily. “The Adventures of B-Girl,” she says softly.
“B…Yes, B-Girl,” Ruiz says. “And who does she look like?”
There’s a long pause.
“Brooke?” Arnold insists.
“Me.” Her eyes close again. “Me,” she echoes quietly.
The suit turns to me. “Mr. Evans, when did you start self-publishing this comic book?”
I pause. I can’t lie, the issue date is right there on the cover. “Two years ago,” I answer.
“And how long have you been an employee of Sketch Republic?”
“Three years.”
“Yes, and how long have you been friends with Ms. Tobin?”
“A couple of months,” I say softly. We are more than friends, asshole.
He turns back to Brooke whose eyes are still closed. The look on her face is killing me. “Have you seen these comic books before?” he asks, waving to the pile and copy in her hands.”
She opens her eyes and shakes h
er head slowly, like it’s so heavy it may fall off.
“Please respond, Brooke.”
“No.”
“So you weren’t aware that Mr. Evans clearly was obsessed with you and had exploited your image for over two years?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I call out. “I would never exploit Brooke.”
“I must point out Mr. Evans, that you already did. This is absolutely exploitation.” He then turns to Brooke and starts in on her. “Ms. Tobin, since you are friends, can you explain to us why he never told you about the books. This is an important detail to not share.”
She sighs. “Does it really matter now why he didn’t tell me? He just didn’t. He had his reasons.”
She sounds like she doesn’t care and I can’t understand why.
“It’s not a big deal,” she continues. “Artists take inspiration from everywhere.”
Not a big deal?
“This is more than inspiration, Brooke. This is a violation of your person, your image. You’re an important woman in this industry, and he’s made a mockery of you,” says Ruiz.
Great, just great…now they want her to think I was making fun of her.
“I don’t see it that way,” she says. “It doesn’t mean a thing to me. I mean, who still reads comic books anymore anyway.” She gives him back the comic like she couldn’t be bothered.
“And since you are unaware of your identity being used, shall I assume that you were also unaware that the president of our company was mocked in this comic…mocked and vilified by one of his employees?”
“No, I was not aware of that. How was Arnauld mocked?”
He picks up the most recent book at the bottom of the pile and fans through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. “Here.” He holds up the comic. “The last issue had the introduction of Monkey Man, who rules a factory of mind-controlled minions.”
Oh, fuck. These assholes are thorough. Should I be flattered that they obviously read all the books?
She purses her lips together tightly and shakes her head. “No, I was not aware of Monkey Man either.”
I search her face for a glimmer of something, anything, but she’s stone-faced. My Brooke has left the building.
“Brooke.” Arnold suddenly speaks, his voice cracking. “Please, tell me honestly…you really didn’t know about this?”
Animate Me Page 31
