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 her 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?”
She turns and faces him square on. “I promise you, Arnauld, I did not know we were in his comic.”
His face softens. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry he did this to you…to us.”
She drops her face and closes her eyes again. I notice that her fingers are white as they dig into the upholstery of the chair’s arm.
“Okay, that’s all we needed to talk to you about, Ms. Tobin,” the lawyer announces.
She slowly opens her eyes and for a moment they rest on the document the lawyer pulled out of the folder when this discussion began. Her eyes suddenly fill with fear and I see them shift to Arnauld, before shooting back to the document.
“What are you going to do?” she asks in a tense tone to no one in particular.
I’m trying to not fall to my knees as I realize that there’s a horror lurking I don’t yet understand.
“I’ll explain at dinner, baby. Don’t worry. We have it all under control.”
“I want to know now,” she demands, her voice haunting.
“We must ask you to leave now, Brooke,” Ruiz insists in a tone that says everything. Arnold might think he has her back, but the lawyer’s not an idiot. He knows her loyalty can’t be assured.
“I’m not leaving,” she says loudly, digging in her heels. “I want to know what’s going on here.”
“Brooke, we must insist you leave. Please don’t make us call in security,” the suit says firmly, making it clear he means business.
“That won’t be necessary,” Arnauld says smoothly.
“Brooke, don’t make him bring in security,” the Monkey says gently. “I’ll explain everything later.”
She curls over in her chair with her eyes closed, and we all sit silently waiting. It kills me that she looks so broken. It’s all hitting me that I’m the one who’s put her in this position. I am just as bad for her as the Monkey. I just didn’t see it.
HR lady stands and gestures to Brooke. “Come on, Brooke, there’s another issue we need to discuss over in my office. They’re waiting for us.”
Brooke finally looks up, her expression completely blank. She slowly rises and moves towards her as they head for the door.
I’m overcome, it feels like everything is shattered, as if I’ve fallen into the center of the earth and I’m not coming back out. “Brooke,” I call out right before they reach the door. The devastation in my tone surprises even me. I almost don’t recognize my voice.
She stops suddenly to my cry and pauses. I hold my breath as the seconds pass, praying for her to turn and face me, but instead she never turns. She just keeps moving, out the door, away from me.
Away from us… and that’s when I die inside.
For most of the rest of the interrogation I am Charlie Brown with a bunch of adults surrounding me going, “wa,wa,wa,…wa,wa…wa,wa,wa.” I’m not sure what they’re saying and I really fucking don’t care. But finally something catches my attention, and snaps me out of my stupor.
“To be clear, we own B-Girl, as stated in your employment agreement.”