Dance For The Devil Page 3

  Weird, in a way. But good. It felt good to be part of that family. With Gil’s influence, perhaps he could learn to be a better father himself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The entrance to the Vandercamp family home was grand. A winding driveway lined with century-old oaks, a large expanse of manicured lawn and a bounty of roses blooming everywhere the eye wandered. The Tudor-style house was very traditional and very English. A uniformed butler greeted guests at the front door and escorted them through the elegantly appointed mansion to the back garden. Here, terraced patios overlooked the swimming pool and tennis court, and ultimately, the ocean. Extending from the shoreline was a private pier, where Gil Vandercamp kept his boat moored. “Not a yacht by any standards,” Gil chuckled depreciatingly, but at forty-two feet, the Vandercamp boat was large enough to boast two staterooms plus an area that converted into a third. Certainly ample space for a couple with only one child.

  The party was in full swing. Several dozen adults mingled on the patio, while their children swam and ran and played. A group of men were competing in a friendly game of croquet and Jake noticed Gil Vandercamp was part of this group. Gil motioned for Jake to join them and Jake held up five fingers to indicate he’d be along shortly.

  Jake turned to his kids, finding them already engaged in the throng of teens. Skeeter was poolside, preparing to cannonball his skinny body with the hopes of drenching a bevy of sunbathing girls. Amy was nose-to-nose with Jason Vandercamp and a few other kids, deep in conversation. It was nice to see her finally making friends. Jake accepted an icy beer from a white-coated server and went to join Gil and whack a few croquet balls.

  “Jake, old buddy, great to see you. I was getting worried you weren’t going to make it.” Gil threw his arm around Jake and greeted him like the prodigal son.

  Jake laughed. “Yeah, kind of late, aren’t we? Teenage girls take an extraordinarily long time to get ready. Last week Amy couldn’t care less about her appearance and today she kept us cooling our heels for over an hour. I suspect your son has something to do with that.”

  “If you think teenage girls take a long time to prep, you should see teenage boys. Jason can spend an entire morning blow-drying his hair, trying to get just the right unkempt look. Kids. You gotta love ‘em.” Gil passed Jake a mallet. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about that new idea you had the other day and I have some suggestions that might interest you.”

  “Any input would be welcome.”

  “I wouldn’t want to step on any toes, but – oh, Lordie, here comes Cynthia Blake. Looks like she has her sight set on you, Jake. An unattached man is something a woman cannot stand. It’s a genetic defect. They always want to set you up with their cousin from Spuzm or some goddamned thing like that. You are shark bait, buddy; a big, bloody bucket of chum.”

  Gil turned his smile to the approaching woman and held out his arm. “Cynthia, darling, what brings you all the way over here? You’re going to get grass stains on those gorgeous shoes of yours.”

  “Oh, Gil. I’ve been waiting for Jake to arrive, I’ve brought someone for him to meet, the most adorable woman –” Her voice was slurred, evidence she’d been drinking.

  Gil cut her off, smoothly winking at Jake. “Chum,” he mouthed, before turning back to the woman. “Now, Cynthia, you know Jake’s recently split from his wife. Give the poor guy a chance to enjoy bachelorhood.”

  “Oh, Gil! You’re such a tease! Anyone can see how lonely the poor man is. I was wondering if he might be interested in joining our little meetings...”

  Gil’s smile became rigid. “I hardly think –”

  “But he’d be a marvellous addition. Just think, someone new, someone so... strong, and with such creative ideas –”

  “Maybe later, Cyn, but let’s not bother Jake right now, alright dear? He’s a busy man and he doesn’t have time for this nonsense.”

  “Oh, but –”

  “I said now is not the time to discuss it.” Gil grabbed her arm firmly and began to lead her away, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder at Jake.

  Harris Bentall, whom Jake recognized from another department of Marvelworks, brought his croquet mallet over and stood beside Jake. “What was that all about?”

  “Not sure,” Jake answered, laughing. “Cynthia wanted to invite me to a meeting of some sort but Gil promptly stopped her. I don’t know whether to thank or throttle him. Sometimes Gil forgets people are perfectly capable of speaking for themselves.”

  Harris looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Gil did you a favor. Cynthia Blake is a bit kooky, if you know what I mean. Her husband needs to put a leash on her.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, she’s just being friendly.”

  “Well, take some more friendly advice and stay away from those meetings.”

  Jake smiled, trying to dispel the sudden tension. “That sounds rather ominous. What’s the worst Cynthia Blake can deal out? Bridge? Charades?” He gave a mock shudder. “A blind date?”

  Gil returned, suddenly, and faced the two men. “No, my friend, something much, much worse. An evening of terror more horrifying than you will ever comprehend. A fate worse than death. A night... of...” Gil made the sign of the cross over his chest, “Cynthia Blake’s god-awful cooking. That woman makes a tuna casserole that’ll strip the hair off your chest. We only go to the meetings because we have to, right Harris? Our wives make us. It’s to do with some charity event they’re organizing. Middle-aged-broads-against-needless-whale-slaughter or some damn thing. A different cause every season. We don’t pay too much attention, do we Harris? Just show up and pretend we’re listening, write ‘em a cheque then slip out to watch a hockey game, while trying not to puke up Cynthia’s cooking. Be grateful you’re a single man, Jake.” Gil took a deep breath. “Now, are we going to stand here yapping or are we going to play croquet?”

  **

  Jason led Amy away from the rest of the group. “Come on,” he whispered. “I want to show you my room.”

  He took her hand and led her through the house, which Amy scarcely noticed because she was so happy. Jason was holding her hand. He had kissed her the other day, then again after last night’s concert. She had a good inkling he was going to kiss her again, in a few moments, in his bedroom.

  Her body tingled with anticipation. Foreign feelings coursed through her, making her woozy and lightheaded. Her thighs felt warm and wet, like she’d peed her panties a little, although she knew she hadn’t. She wanted to ask Jason if they were a couple, if they were going together, if she was his girlfriend, if things were official. But she didn’t because she worried it would sound immature and remind him that she was younger.

  Amy was afraid of doing anything that might scare Jason off. He was the best thing that happened to her since her mom moved away. Actually, Jason Vandercamp was the only good thing that happened; everything else in her life was awful. So dismal that sometimes Amy felt like going to sleep and never waking up. But Jason listened to her and understood her, and he was the only person on earth who really cared about her. She might not be a rocket scientist but she sure the heck wasn’t going to do anything to screw this up.

  “Here it is,” Jason said, leading her to a room at the far end of a long hallway. A sign on the door read: Trespassers will be fined, shot, tortured, mutilated, executed, and then prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Enter at your own risk!

  Amy laughed. “That’s friendly.”

  Jason smiled. “Keeps the riffraff out. Come on in.”

  “Wow, you must have over a hundred posters.”

  “I collect them. They have to be retro, though. The older, the better. This one’s my favorite: Alice Cooper biting a snake’s head.”

  “Looks like he’s drinking the snake’s blood. Gross.”

  “Yeah, my dad says rockers used to do that. Dad went to a concert and said Alice Cooper killed chickens and snakes and then threw the bodies into the audience. He said it was really co
ol.”

  “Sounds disgusting.”

  Jason cocked his head. “True, but wouldn’t it be wicked to see? Not that I agree with it, of course, but I think a person should experience everything. Don’t you?”

  “I guess so. I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “This poster is my other favorite.”

  “It looks like a cigarette ad.”

  “It is, from the seventies. It’s totally subliminal, see? Look at the girl’s arm, its fake. You can tell by the angle. Her real arm goes down like that, grabbing the guy’s crotch. See? You can see the shadow.”

  Amy flushed. “No wonder he’s smiling like that.”

  Jason looked pleased. “Exactly. They’re really selling sex. If you were flipping through a magazine you probably wouldn’t notice it, but your brain would. And the next time you went to the supermarket to buy milk, your subconscious would tell you to buy that brand of cigarettes instead.”

  “Does everyone do that? I mean, with advertising?”

  “No, it’s illegal. But lots of companies still do, they’re just more discreet now. I’ve heard that movie theaters flash single-frame images of popcorn. They probably do it on TV, too. Ever notice how hungry you get watching television?”

  “Seems brilliant to me, selling people things while they don’t even realize. Holy cow, look at your gaming system. It’s awesome.”

  “Dad put it together for me. Got some prototype stuff that’s not available yet. I’m testing it for them.”

  “Got any good new games?”

  “Tons, but I prefer the old stuff. I’m really into Dungeons and Dragons. It’s totally retro but I love how it sets the standard for a dimension where anything is possible. Oh, and there’s Doom.” He passed her the cartridge and she studied the cover. It showed some muscle-bound guy blasting beasts in the bastions of hell. “Doom pioneered the first person shooter genre. It’s arguably the most important video game every created, revolutionised the industry. Have you played it before?”

  “No, but I’ve heard of it... I think.”

  “It’s a great way to connect with people from all over the world. The online multiplayer death match is unreal. You have to be careful because you get so into it you can play for hours. I’ve stayed up all night before and didn’t even realize until sunrise. It was killer-hard going to school.”

  Amy nodded appreciatingly. “Show me?”

  Jason flicked on the power button and a sixty-inch screen lit up the far wall. “Choose your weapon. Shotgun, chainsaw, rocket launcher...”

  “Gross. Um, I’ll take chainsaw.”

  “Okay. Now you have to navigate through the surface of Phobos and fight the demons. If you see anyone, kill him. Everyone is the enemy.”

  Amy was clumsy with the controls and promptly got killed. Jason smiled encouragingly. “It takes a while to get the hang of it, then it’s second nature. Here, let me.” He moved through the maze with skill and precision. The game appeared three-dimensional, allowing the player to feel he was truly inside. “Here’s one,” Jason said, striking out with the chainsaw. The demon fell instantly, his body severed in half, blood spurting. “Brilliant, huh?”

  “Uh huh,” Amy answered, feeling queasy. Blood was never her strong point, even fake blood on a screen. But she saw how much fun Jason was having so she stretched out on his bed and watched him play, carefully sucking in her stomach so she’d look thinner. After Jason killed a half-dozen more attackers, he flicked off the machine and joined her, and she flushed as he lay beside her.

  “It’s more fun playing with a partner. You go through the levels together but if you’re feeling really evil, you can stab him in the back.”

  “That’s not very loyal.”

  Jason grinned. “I know, but it’s fun, especially since you’ll never actually meet the person. That’s what I love about gamers: total anonymity. Sometimes I go on Internet chat rooms and make up a whole new identity. I can say whatever I want, no matter how outrageous, and no one will ever know it’s me.”

  “It sounds as if you like computers more than people.”

  Jason’s face turned serious. “Sometimes I do. Computers are predictable. They never do terrible things. Only people do.” He leaned closer to Amy. “I like you though, Amy. I know you’d never do anything awful to me, would you?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  He began to kiss her and Amy closed her eyes and let her lips fall open, and allowed Jason Vandercamp to lead her down the path to sweet oblivion.

  **

  “I don’t like them,” Skeeter complained on the ride home. He was sitting in the front seat with Jake, while Amy sat silently in the back, arms folded over her chest.

  “What’s that, Skeet?” Jake asked, taking his eyes off the winding road for a fraction of a second.

  “The Vandercamps. I don’t like them.”

  “You could have fooled me, looked like you were having a great time. Spent so much time in the water, I could have sworn you were half-fish.”

  “I never said I didn’t like their house. It’s them I don’t like. They’re creepy.”

  “Skeet? What’s this all about?”

  The boy shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “They’re phonies. Something doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it better than that.”

  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 creepy 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, but 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 thin
k?”

  “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.