Dance For The Devil Read Free Page A

clapped him on the back. Although it had been almost twenty years since college, Jake recognized Gil immediately. Gil’s dark hair was now silver, yet Gil remained the distinctive and fit individual he had been in his youth. Gil was as charismatic as ever and the two men arranged to meet for dinner, to catch up for old time’s sake.
    After dinner, Gil dropped the bombshell. Running into Jake was no accident. Gil had travelled from Victoria expressly to see his old school chum, and the trade fair seemed a good oppo rtunity. “I read the piece on you in The Globe and Mail,” explained Gil, “about the work you did on the heliocentric program. The graphics are incredible. I could use someone like you on my team. Interested in a job?”
    Jake wasn’t sure he understood, so Gil leaned forward, his steely eyes bright and engaging. “Heard of Marvelworks?”
    “Sure, who hasn’t? Marvelworks is a small company that designs video games.”
    Gil’s eyes sparkled and when he talked, he moved his hands expansively. Gil Vandercamp was an entertainer. “Small – for now. We’re going to be number one, or we’ll die trying. Marvelworks is innovative, totally fresh. We rely on cutting edge technology and brilliant graphics. We could really use someone like you.”
    The idea held some appeal. However, Jake was cautious and he could foresee some of the same pitfalls his present job held. “Why me, Gil? I’m too old for this game, you need a youngster. Someone who can work twenty hours a day and exist on Velveeta and Pepsi. Someone who has no other objective than to make you rich.”
    “I’m already rich,” Gil said, shaking his head. “We’ve got youngsters up the whazoo. We need experience. Someone to harness their creative energy and guide it. Look, everyone’s doing video games but they’re the same old tired concept. Either war games, or sport games, or some fuzzy little guy doing spinballs all over the screen. I want to develop something different – more interactive, more educational. Parents are shelling out between forty and a hundred bucks a pop for these games – let’s give them value.
    “Kids like to blow things up, right? Fine, we’ll incorporate that with a bit of math. Or spelling. Hell, I don’t know, that’s where you come in, Jake. Let them be a superhero, let them conquer the world or each other, but let them think while they’re doing it. Capische?”
    “Yeah, I capische.” Jake nodded his head. “It’s intriguing, Gil, I have to admit that. But the logistics –”
    “I know, we’re based in British Columbia, in Victoria, so you’ll have to relocate. What’s the big deal? You leave this shitty climate behind and move to Lotusland. Move the missus and the kiddies to paradise. Victoria’s safe, you know, none of that gang shit you have happening here. I’ll fix you up in a great house – beautiful, right on the ocean. I know the perfect place, it’s an absolute steal. Half the price it was five years ago – you’d be making the investment of a lifetime. Real estate is a dream compared to Toronto. I’ll get you a castle for the same price as a Bloor Street townhouse.”
    They exchanged cards and Jake promised he’d think about it.
    Think about it, he did. He could think of little else. He brought the idea up with the kids. “It has to be a family decision. I won’t take the job unless you guys want me to. I think it might be a good thing for us, though.”
    Jake swept his hands through d ark hair, sending it in awkward tufts. When he glanced up and caught his mirrored reflection, it gave him pause. Not the physical appearance, with the unruly waves threatening to topple from his forehead and obscure his eyes, forever giving him the appearance of a mad scientist, nor the many sports-souvenirs incurred over the years. The quirkily bent nose, broken twice, never managing to heal straight. Or the thin jaw-line scar, a memento from an opponent’s high stick during a friendly game