Dance For The Devil (4 page)

Jake frowned. Skeeter was doing a pretty good job of describing his feelings, and it twigged a response. Sometimes Jake felt the same way – like today, with Cynthia Blake. Nothing one could put a finger on... just a feeling. He’d chalked it up to the new environment. People were different on the West Coast, more open and laid back. Complete strangers talked like they were best friends and intimate details were disengaged without preamble. It was unsettling.

“Mr. Vandercamp pretends he’s so great, like Santa Claus or something, and Mrs. Vandercamp is like a plastic doll. And Jason Vandercamp is creepy too.”

“Shut your filthy mouth,” Amy shrieked from the backseat. “Shut your lying, filthy, disgusting mouth or I’ll kill you!”

“Amy!”

“Make him take it back! Jason Vandercamp is not creep
y and neither is his family. They’re normal, can’t you see that? They’re the normal ones, not us. They’re normal and loving and the Vandercamps are a family. Can you say that about us?”

Jake pulled the car over, shut off the ignition and turned to Amy. “Yes, I can. We
are
a family, Amy, and I love you very much.”

Her yells had turned to sobs. “We’re a broken family.”

“Maybe, but we’re strong enough to be put back together. That’s what love is, you know – glue. Our love will glue us back together.” Jake thought for a moment before continuing. “I know it’s been a rough year, a truly horrible year. Some of that is my fault, I admit it, but I’m trying to change. Sometimes I make mistakes –” He paused at Amy’s derisive snort, “Okay, a lot of mistakes, but I am trying. I realize I work too many hours but that’s part of my job. However, you two are more important to me than any old job.” Jake hesitated. “Maybe it’s not working out here. Maybe we should move back to Toronto.”

Silence. Finally, Skeeter shook his head. “No, I like it here. It was hard at first, b
ut now I’ve made a good friend.”

“Amy? What do you think?”

“I think Mom should move back with us.”

Jake paused, choosing his words carefully. “I know you’d like that, but it’s not going to happen. For better or worse, it’s just us now.”

She began sobbing again. “I know.”

Everyone was quiet while they digested that. Finally, Amy spoke. “I think we should stay, at least for a little while longer. Skeeter’s right, I’ve made friends, too. But it really hurt my feelings what Skeeter said about the Vandercamps.”

“Sorry,” Skeeter mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jake took a deep breath. The situation was diffusing. He restarted the engine and eased the car back onto the road. “Maybe we need a holiday, guys, what do you think?”

“Disneyland?”

Jake smiled. “No, Skeeter, not now, anyway. Maybe at Christmas break. I was thinking more of a weekend thing. We could drive up island and explore Long Beach, or maybe take the ferry to Vancouver. Or, we could go the other way, to Seattle. Take in a movie, do a little shopping, check out the Space Needle. Play tourist. What do you think?”

“Yeah!”

“Amy?”

She sniffed. “I wouldn’t mind shopping. I could use some new clothes, everything I have is so geeky.”

“Okay. Great. It’s a date. Next weekend, the three of us. You guys pick the place and I’ll make the arrangements. The three amigos, off on an adventure.”

“Dad?”

“Yes
, Amy?”

“Promise you won’t cancel?”

Jake met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I promise. Even if I break my arm, I’ll make it. Even if I break both arms, one leg and have to wear a goofy-looking neck brace, I’ll make it. I promise. In fact, even if I’m dead, I’ll still make it. You might have to drag my coffin behind you, but I’ll be there.”

She giggled. Honest to God, thought Jake, she giggled. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh since... well, since they moved here.

Things were looking up.

**

Things were looking down. On Friday, Pluto’s Playground developed a programming glitch that threatened to derail the entire game. When the testers reached level six, the orbit sometimes went out of whack and they found themselves back at level one. At the beginning. For no reason.

Worse, because it happened only occasionally, the error would not be easy to locate. Jake had promised the boys in Marketing that the game would be ready by the end of October, ready for the Christmas season. A massive advertising campaign had teased consumers since summer and the industry buzzword hinted Pluto’s Playground would be this year’s bestseller. A true coup for Marvelworks. This little company was starting to attract notice, and to delay distribution would be extremely detrimental, possibly suicidal. To distribute a faulty game... Jake shuddered at the thought.

Gil Vandercamp was in an uncharacteristic panic. He strode into Jake’s office unannounced and threw a copy of Pluto’s Playground onto Jake’s desk, dislodging a sheath of papers which flew off like a tickertape parade.

“Gil. Nice entrance. I gather you’ve heard about our little problem,” Jake remarked dryly.

“Little problem? It’s a fucking disaster!”

“Calm down, Gil, it’s a minor disaster and we’ll fix it. It may take a few days, but we’ll fix it.”

“We don’t have a few days! A group of Japanese executives are flying in from Tokyo on Tuesday specifically to see this product.”

“So, don’t take them to level s
ix.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. You
know as well as I do that level six is a vital selling point. They need to see it.”

It was true. The concept of Pluto’s Playground was to orbit through space, deflecting the array of usual videogame obstructions, like asteroids, black holes and a truly gruesome selection of aliens. That, and navigating your own spaceship, was the fun part. The educational part was figuring out mathematical coordinates and applying scientific facts in order
to win. Children learned without realizing. That was Marvelworks motto: fun and
education
, and the education part set this company apart from the flock.

Le
vel six was particularly appealing on a visual level. Here, players explored Pluto, trading their spaceship for a vehicle which allowed them to travel across the planet surface, fighting winds and gasses, or going underground and doing battle with giant subterranean worms.

That was the way it was
supposed
to work. Instead, while poised to slice off the creature’s slimy head, the player suddenly found himself back at the beginning of the game, reading the game title and being prompted to input the number of players. Highly frustrating.

Gil was pacing antsily. “I’ve got the design team coming for the weekend, plus the full production team. No one
leaves this office until the glitch is fixed, okay? They eat, sleep and shit here.”

“Oh, damn.”

“What?” Gil stopped pacing and abruptly ran his hands through his silver hair. “What?”

“I’ve got a conflict. Plans for the weekend. Unbreakable.”

“Break them anyway.”

“No, you don’t understand, Gil. I promised the kids –”

“Look, I don’t care if you’re having a fucking heart transplant, you’re the only person who knows what’s going on. This was your brainchild and you need to fix it. So pick up the fucking phone and cancel your fucking plans, or else.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Pick up the fu–”

“Yeah, I heard you, I just didn’t believe you. Are you issuing me an ultimatum, Gil?”

“And if I am?”

“Then you can take this shitty job and shove it up your ass. My children are more important. They’ve been through enough heartache already without me disappointing them again.”

“You need to examine your priorities, Jake.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Look, I’ll take the game
with me and work on it over the weekend, and I’ll keep in touch by video conferencing. That’s the best I can do, take it or leave it.”

Gil’s eyes were cold. A chill reached out and grasped Jake’s heart, and momentarily, he felt a stab of fear. Absurd, yet there it was. “You leave me no alternative,” Gil said finally, glaring at Jake. “Do it your way. I’ll be in touch.”

Gil left the room, and once again it seemed empty without his presence. Only this time, another feeling permeated the room. Something ominous. Dark.

Jake thought about Skeeter’s words:
‘I don’t like them. They’re creepy’.
Well, something definitely felt creepy right now.

Your imagination is working overtime, old boy. Gil is a great guy. A wonderful boss, a good friend.
Yeah, so why the sudden personality change?

Many reasons, Jake rationalized, bending to retrieve his fallen papers. Gil has tremendous pressure on him to deliver a workable game
. His company and reputation were in jeopardy. He was stressed. He was a type A. He was...

Oh, Christ, he was grasping at straws. Next he would be chalking it up to Gil’s birth sign, Gemini, the twin personality. The fact was, Gil was pissed off and mad as hell. Pluto’s Playground wasn’t working. Jake had to fix it, end of story.

He thought about cancelling the weekend with the kids. Skeeter would be disappointed, Amy would be furious. He would let them down... again. He would fail... again. There was no way out. They were going.

**

In the end, Jake should have stayed. The weekend was a complete disaster, start to finish. He stayed late on Friday, desperately trying to locate the design error. Consequently, they ended up catching a late ferry to Washington State, and the boat was packed. After searching in vain for a trio of seats, they gave up and sat apart. Not an auspicious beginning for a weekend of family togetherness.

Usually the ferry ride was enjoyable, the beautiful scenery of the Gulf Islands
keeping their attention, the three-hour ride broken by leisurely strolls on the deck, coffee in hand. A mini-cruise. But Friday, the weather turned truly ugly and it was too dark to see anything but the odd flickering of lights. Small children raced around, upsetting coffee cups and banging outstretched legs. Jake had hoped to sneak a bit more work in, but given the atmosphere, it was impossible.

The long drive to Seattle dampened already low spirits, and the mood for the weekend seemed set. Jake tried his darndest to cheer the kids up, but even Skeeter, normally carefree, was in a foul mood. The reason for this became clear early the next morning, when Skeeter, flush with fever, vomited all over the hotel room carpet.

“Oh, gross,” complained Amy. “I suppose we’ll have to
smell
that all day long.”

“Amy, he didn’t do it on purpose.”

It was no use trying to convince her. Amy seemed to feel that Skeeter had acquired the flu purposely to annoy her.

Moving Skeeter was out of the question, as was leaving the boy alone. Jake, against his better judgement, bundled Amy into a taxi and sent his brooding daughte
r to a nearby shopping mall, his credit card in her hand. She returned six-hours later with two bags full of the ugliest clothing Jake had ever set eyes on. He tried to look enthusiastic, but his true feelings must have shown because she promptly burst into tears and locked herself in the bathroom. Skeeter puked again, Amy announced she’d just got her period, and Jake, despite spending every available minute studying Pluto’s Playground, couldn’t locate the problem.

When they returned home, Amy wasn’t speaking to anyone, Jake had a splitting headache, and Skeeter was too sick to do anything but stay in the backseat with his head stuffed into a paper bag, trying not to barf.

**

“My dad is a complete asshole,” Amy anno
unced to Jason and his friends. “He says he loves me, but he is such a liar. His idea of love is to hand me his Visa card and ignore me.”

“Mine too,” Alex said, a dark haired boy who would be good
looking if not for the virulent crop of acne marking his face.

“It’s my mother who’s the stupid one,” Elise stated.

“At least you have a mother,” Amy complained. “Things were better when my Mom was around, but... well, she doesn’t care either. Nobody does. I could commit suicide and no one would give a shit.”

“I would,” Jason said. “We all would.”

The other kids nodded, and Amy looked at them gratefully.

“Well...” Jason began, and they looked at him expectantly. He hesitated, then began slowly. “Sometimes I go to these meetings. They’re kind of weird, and sometimes they do strange things, but you feel pretty good afterwards.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well, church things, kind of, only more liberal. I mean, we pray and all that, but our philosophy is radically different. Positive and enlightening. You feel empowered afterwards instead of subjugated.”

“Subjugated,” Amy echoed, sounding unsure.

Jason spread his hands. “Traditional churches are very negative. The priest or minister
peddles guilt: society is bad, the world is evil and your every thought and natural urge should be repressed. For example, sex. The most primal, natural instinct of all and we’re told it’s a sin. Isn’t that a joke? Sex is evil, yet everyone does it. Half the priests are doing it with their congregation, the other half are busy screwing little kids. Where the hell do they get off telling you sex is a sin? Pious assholes.”