2cool2btrue by Simon Brooke Read Free Book Online Page A

walls and all the desks are heavy constructions in dark wood which contrast beautifully with our white and clear Perspex, state of the art Apple Macs, I notice. That, somehow, can’t be a coincidence. There is a sort of fresco painted on the ceiling. Piers has already explained that the room is intended to look cool but understated and cost effective, to make it clear to our investors and trading partners that all their money is going into the product. Whatever that is.
    He shows me my desk.
    My desk.
    What my parents always wanted. Okay, I’m not wearing a suit but I’ve still got a desk with a phone on it. Their reaction when I told them that I was going to start modelling was every bit as joyous as if I’d said I was going to join a monastery or become a Bangkok ladyboy. I kept trying to explain that I was just going to do it for a while until I worked out what I wanted in the way of a career. Their sad, anxious looks every time the subject was raised drove me bonkers with irritation.
    “What shall we tell our friends when they ask what you’re doing now?” said my mum as if this was the final, clinching argument against this whole daft idea.
    “Just tell them I’m dead,” I shouted as I headed upstairs to my room, now more determined than ever to do it, and to succeed at it just to spite them. What better driving force for a career could you hope for than revenge on your parents?
    They relented slightly when they saw that I was making a living and enjoying it—that being the order of importance to them. I just worry sometimes that my career decision is what made my dad turn out the way he did.
    I haven’t actually told the agency about my new job. You know, just in case. Well, I told Karyn. She said she couldn’t believe it and she was very sad but she wished me all the luck in the world. In the end we agreed that I wouldn’t go to castings unless they were “requests,” in other words the client has specifically asked to see me, but if jobs came up she would definitely pass them on and I’d take a day off to do them.
    I sign another form about being a director and then get introduced to a guy called Zac who is the technical whiz, as Piers puts it. Zac sits in a corner surrounded by two giant computer screens, a number of keyboards, a computer graphics drawing board, some CPUs and an explosive spaghetti of wires and cables.
    He avoids my gaze shyly as we shake hands and says in an American accent, “Welcome aboard, bud.”
    “Thanks. This all looks pretty impressive,” I say, less out of interest and more by way of conversation.
    “It is,” Zac tells me. He strokes the giant Apple Mac between us. “These are some of the most sophisticated software packages ever devised running on state-of-the-art equipment and we’re using it all to create the most beautiful images and the most exciting experience, ever, on the Internet.”
    Stunned by this visionary speech, I let his words sink in for a moment.
    “We’re all on a journey here at 2cool,” says Piers quietly from over my shoulder.
    I consider this thought too.
    Our secretary is Scarlett. She has bright pink dreadlocks and is wearing a yellow angora cardigan, a tartan miniskirt and jelly sandles. I find myself looking her up and down but she doesn’t seem offended. I suppose if you dress like that you must be used to people giving you a stunned once-over whenever they meet you.
    “Hi Charlie,” she says over a firm handshake. “Welcome to 2cool.”
    “Thank you,” I smile, trying to make up for my discourteous gawping. “So what’s your background, then, Scarlett?” It turns out that she used to work in film post-production but has decided that the Internet will take over from conventional movie production and marketing very soon as the principal creative medium of the future.
    I’m about to ask, “Won’t people still want to go to the cinema together?” but it seems churlish, and besides, Piers has thrown a pile of glossy magazines on