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 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?