Primary Obsessions. Charles Demers
face into a vague simulacrum of human seriousness, tried to interject. “So, then, if I’m hearing you right—”
“But yeah,” Annick said, the last revs of the caffeine from her diet cola blasting out through her system, pushed to the brink of aggression by both the smug look on her know-nothing co-panellist’s face and her simultaneous realization that she’d left her travel mug in the back of the cab. “When they’re trying to express their disorders to the people in their lives, their loved ones, even themselves—it’s inconvenient that the clinical term for what they’re suffering has been belittled into a cutesy label meaning ‘neat-freak.’”
“Now, Cass, you—”
“I mean, the people who make movies, I’m not sure they realize the power they’re wielding when it comes to shaping public perceptions of an anxious condition that the general public knows virtually nothing about. For thirty years after Rain Man, everybody thought autism meant counting toothpicks. Now they just think it means you’ve been inoculated against the mumps.”
“I’m sorry, do I get to talk?”
“Go for it,” Annick said, fully irritated now. “I’m willing to bet it won’t be your first time today.”
“Now, Dr. Boudreau, please.”
“We can’t have comedy without people getting offended.”
“That’s true.”
“So you agree with me?”
“Yes, on a point unrelated to the conversation.”
“But no, it’s at the very heart of the conversation. You want to shut down a film because it doesn’t toe your ideological line.”
“Wait, what film am I trying to shut down?”
“Dr. Boudreau, I’d like to ask—”
“Wait, no, sorry. What film am I trying to shut down?”
The screenwriter rolled his eyes. “You want this movie to fail simply because—”
“Listen, my friend, I don’t care one way or the other what happens to this movie. To be honest, just the fact that it’s not about superheroes kind of has me rooting for it.”
“But to call for a boycott—”
“Boycott? I’m just saying your movie doesn’t give an accurate—”
“Well it’s not my movie,” he huffed.
“What?”
“I didn’t write the movie,” Johannsen said peevishly, clearly unhappy to have been forced to break his affectation of studied chill.
“Wait, sorry—if it’s not your movie, then what are you doing here?”
“Unfortunately that’s all the time we have, I’d love to have you both back to discuss this anytime. I want to thank our guests, local screenwriter Cass Johannsen…”
“Thanks for having me,” he said curtly.
“And Dr. Annick Boudreau…”
“You know who would be great next time is my colleague Cedric.”
As she made her way back out through the newsroom, Annick frowned as she looked into the adorably cluttered cubicle next to a load-bearing concrete pillar and found it empty. As she craned her neck, climbing to the tips of her toes to take in what she could of the open office, she felt a series of undulating fingers working their way down the small of her back.
“Jesus, does your ass look incredible.”
“I knew I wore this suit for a reason.”
Annick leaned over to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s lips. Philip Lee, a science journalist who had somehow dodged round after round of layoffs with all the luck and aplomb of a baby sea turtle scuttering to the water’s edge, now ran his fingertips gingerly down the sides of Annick’s thighs, and instantly erased the taste left in her mouth by the panel.
“I was hoping you’d still be here.”
“Well, the effects on genome patenting from the new free trade deal with the Kingdom of Jordan aren’t going to sort themselves on their own.”
“That was about one hundred pounds of content in a twenty-pound sentence.”
“I know, I lost the thread of it myself halfway through.”
“Well clearly you don’t have any work left in you. Let’s walk home? I came in a cab.”
“Oh, memories. I remember that time.”
“You are disgusting.”
“Listen, you head home, I’ve got another hour here, but that’s tops. We’ll reheat the rest of that lasagna from Tuesday.”
“It is so cute that you think I didn’t already eat that lasagna.”
“Phil?” It was a smoky, well-calibrated voice coming from behind Annick’s shoulder, an alto shot through with terrific confidence. Annick turned to see a tall, handsome woman in a very expensive suit that wasn’t supposed to look like one. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“No, no problem, Bonnie,” said Phil, standing. “Bonnie, have you met my girlfriend? Dr. Annick Boudreau.”
Annick smiled and stuck out her hand. “He always says ‘doctor’ in case one of his scientist pals thinks I’m just a dumb girl.” Bonnie gave a small smile, and shook hands. “Actually, we met at the Christmas party last year. You came to my rescue.”
“How’s that?” Bonnie arched an eyebrow.
“When I was cornered by the guy from the cooking show?”
A slow and subtle smile began to spread across Annick’s face. “I have only hazy recollections of this…”
“You interrupted him talking at me, and said ‘Hey, check out the face on that pair of tits.’”
Bonnie made an unsuccessful attempt at suppressing her pride.
“Okay, I remember now.”
“His neck snapped up so quickly I thought he was going to have to wear a brace.”
“Sure, or an electric collar.”
“It’s wonderful to have all of these strong women in my life,” said Philip, “but a little terrifying when they get together like this. What can I help you with, Bonnie?”
“They told me you were promised the J-school placement kid this evening?”
“Lindsay? Yeah, she’s going to help me scan this trade deal for keywords.”
“Any chance it could wait?”
“Well—I could probably make do on my own. You need her?”
Bonnie nodded with an urgency all out of sync with her bearing and her outfit. “I’m supposed to be doing some fact-checking calls on that smuggling story with the lumber port on the island, but we just had a real blood and guts story come in. I have to go.”
“Oh, no,” said Annick.
“Of course, Bonnie,” said Philip.
“Yeah, young guy in Kitsilano, upstairs landlords heard screaming and called the police. They found him with his throat opened up, his roommate in the bathroom calmly washing up after. I gotta get over to VPD.”
“Jesus.”
“Christ. Yeah, of course. I can handle this on my own.”
“Thanks, Phil. Annick, nice to see you.” Bonnie nodded and left, and Philip let out a long, frustrated exhalation as he planted himself in his seat.
“You better grab your own dinner.”
“My