THURSDAY
1
The videotape cassette had been burning a hole through Jack?s backpack all day at
school. Or at least it felt that way. Now at last, after a seeming eternity, he was returning to Johnson.
He?d found it almost infinitely difficult to wave to Sally and Mrs. V this morning as they waited across the street at the elementary bus stop. She?d stood there in her dark glasses and long-sleeved blouse, seeming to pierce him with her gaze as if she knew.
Did she? No way. He?d been out in the dark, she?d been inside in the light. She couldn?t have seen him.
So why had she been staring at him?
Maybe she hadn?t. Maybe just staring through him and thinking of a better life, a life without her husband.
Once in school Jack had hidden the cassette at the rear of his locker?s top shelf. He?d checked on it a number of times during the course of the day. He didn?t know why he was so paranoid.
No one but he knew it existed.
He stepped off the bus and headed directly to the VFW post. This was it: Do or die. He had to find a way to get this onto the screen to night. If he failed he?d have to wait until the next smoker. He couldn?t bear the thought of Sally and her mother suffering through another month of what he?d seen last night.
When he reached the post he found the front door wide open. The smell of strong detergent wafted from within.
“Hello? Anyone here?”
No answer.
Almost too good to be true to find the place open and empty. He could just waltz down to the rec room and do his thing—whatever that might turn out to be.
He stepped inside and called again.
“Hello?”
To his dismay, a familiar voice, accompanied by the sound of feet on stairs, answered.
“I?m coming, I?m coming.” Walt appeared from a stairwell and smiled when he saw Jack. “Hey, man. What?s up?”
“I?m cashing in my rain check for the tour.”
“Oh, hey, I was just about to start mopping the floor downstairs and—”
“Just a quick look?”
As Walt hesitated, Jack noticed that his eyes were clearer than he?d ever seen them.
Then he remembered: Mrs. Clevenger asked him to stop drinking. With all that had gone on since yesterday afternoon, Jack had forgotten about the conversation he?d overheard.
She?d wanted him to stop because he might be “needed.” What did she expect Walt to do?
What ever, it looked like he?d listened to her. Jack noticed that his gloved hands were shaking.
Nervous? Or did he need a drink?
Walt shrugged then. “Sure. Why not?”
Jack suffered through the ground-floor tour—what did he care about the meeting room and the office? Finally Walt led him down to where he wanted to be: the basement.
At the moment the rec room was a big open space with a bare floor of dirty vinyl tile. A mahogany bar with beer spigots up front and mirrored shelves behind ran three-quarters the length of one wall. A TV sat on a low cabinet under a squat window. All the chairs and tables were stacked in a corner. A battered wringer bucket sat in the middle of the floor with a mop handle jutting toward the ceiling.
Walt gestured to the space. “I don?t know why they want the floor mopped before the
smokers—these guys are real slobs when it comes to keeping beer in their cups. But if that?s what they want, that?s what they get.”
Jack wandered over to the TV cabinet and opened the doors. He wanted to make sure he?d heard Mr. Bainbridge right about the new VCR.
“What?s up, Jack?” he heard Walt say behind him.
“Just checking out your electronics.”
Yep. There it sat: a brand-new Panasonic. And next to it a couple of videotape boxes labeled
“No!”
He checked again. No mistake. It said VHS and the tape slot was definitely too big.
“Something wrong, Jack? You okay?”
He was anything but okay, and something was definitely and terribly wrong as he realized what he?d done.
I screwed up! All that risk for nothing!
He?d recorded the Vivinos on a Betamax cassette. It wouldn?t play on a VHS.
“I?m okay,” he managed to say. “Just remembered something I?d forgotten.” He turned and started for the door. “I?ll finish the tour later.”
“Ain?t nothin? left to see.”
Jack didn?t reply as he hurried upstairs and out into the fresh air.
“Jerk!” he whispered as he broke into a trot up Quakerton Road. “You complete
Mr. Rosen had bought a Betamax camcorder—that was why it had been cheap. Jack had been so tickled to have a video camera at his disposal, he hadn?t paid attention to what kind. And why should he, considering the VCR in his own house was a Beta?
Dad?s doing. Years ago he?d bought a Betamax, supposedly better than the competing VHS
model. Maybe it was, but it lost out to the other format because VHS tapes recorded longer. So most folks used VHS these days.
But not Dad. He insisted Betamax was better and refused to switch until the current machine died. Why change if it recorded and played back and did everything a VCR should?
So of course the Vivino tape had played perfectly on his home machine last night—a Beta cassette in a Beta player.
But it would
He had to find some way to turn this around.
2
“Hey, I don?t know, Jack,” Eddie said.
“Just for thirty minutes,” Jack said as he went about
disconnecting the Connell family?s VCR from their TV. “Not a second longer, I swear.”
“But I still don?t get why you need it.”
“Just running a little experiment between Beta and VHS.”
In a way that was true. Sort of. Not so much an experiment as a desperate, last-ditch effort to salvage Operation Vivino.
“What kind of experiment?”
“I?ll let you know if it works.” He finished unscrewing the VCR?s coaxial cable. “Until then, have you got a blank tape I can borrow? I?ll replace it later.”
Eddie fished in a drawer and came up with one still in the wrapper.
Perfect.
“Need any help?”
“That?s okay. You hang here and I?ll be right back.”
