All The Boys And Girls

Dale Dembski sat on the steps of the high school he had graduated from 25 years ago. He glanced at his phone to check the time and admire the photo he set as his wallpaper. The Goldberry was a 33-foot Boston Whaler Vantage and he spent more time on her than the house he had bought for $2 million.

It was 11:00 am on a Saturday, and normally he would be on the water, cutting the engine and gazing out on the expanse of the ocean. He drank in every second of stillness before his phone exploded with phone calls, texts and emails. His mind was briefly free of market shares, yearly earnings and alimony payments. Dale imagined Heaven was just that one moment, stretched out to eternity.

Dale scanned up and down the street to see if anyone was approaching. He resisted the urge to start pacing. If today didn’t go as planned, he might lose the Goldberry and everything else.

Standing near the school entrance flooded him with memories. Rushing from class to class under colorful banners that congratulated sports teams, reminded students of deadlines or wished the community happy holidays. Today the halls were filled with a dead silence, and the entrance was just bare concrete and gun metal doors. The sign outside had said ‘ALL CLASSES CANCELLED DUE 2 COVID’ for a few months; now it was blank. Did someone steal the letters from the marquee? Did the school board decide the sign was pointless? Dale didn’t know. One day he drove by and it was gone.

‘Yo.’

Dale’s entire body gave a quiver at that voice. The voice of Ray Carmichael had defined his life since they met a quarter of a century ago.

Ray’s head was still full of hair, although the raven black was now salt and pepper. But it was his deeply lined face that struck Dale now. Ray had never been one to moderate his use of alcohol or drugs, and it was catching up to him.

“Hey.”

Ray’s voice had always rumbled deeper than a distant thunderclap. Years of whisky and cigars had lowered it a few octaves. Dale’s eyes traveled down Ray’s body, noting his black denim pants, black t-shirt and designer black leather jacket. Many years and many wives had not changed his sense of fashion.

Dale saw his own brown suede jacket and grey corduroy pants reflected in one of the school’s windows. He thought the jacket would made him look rugged, but now he felt small and ridiculous. Wisps of his thinning brown hair waved in the slight breeze.

“Did you get the link I sent?” asked Dale. “Did you read the agreement? We can make her sign the standard non-disclosure. This will never get to a judge.”

Of course, Ray had the link. They had used it many times.

“No. The agreement doesn’t mean shit now.”

Dale stared at his old friend.

“W-what do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Dale got up from the steps. “I know the board is howling, but that’s just a PR stunt. We founded this company. We ran it before we ever had a board of directors. Some little intern gets upset over a one-night stand? We pay her off. They can’t get rid of us. They need us to run the company.”

Ray gave a cold, hard look.

“Ray! This is all going to blow over. It always does. Why would this be different?” Dale knew his voice was breaking slightly but he couldn’t stop it.

Ray tapped a button on his phone. Dale heard a ping informing him Ray sent him a new link.

Ray gazed off into the middle distance. “I got this from Perry this morning. You need to read it. Now.”

“Perry?” Dale said in puzzlement. “As in Chairman-of-the-Board-of-Directors Perry? What would he have to say?”

“Just fucking read it, Dale.”

Slowly withdrawing his own phone, Dale opened the link and began reading. After a second, he dropped his phone.

“The intern was your –,“ Dale couldn’t finish the sentence.

“My daughter.”

16-year-old Dale picked his homework up after Barry Leinster knocked it out of his hands. Dale had lipped off to Barry before and had been kicked in the crotch for it. After that, Barry knocked Dale’s books out of his hands on occasion just for fun. Since Dale’s swollen testicles had hurt for a week after the kick, he wordlessly picked up his books. Barry and some of his friends laughed for a second, then continued down the hall.

“Hey, FAGGOT, what’s your problem?” a booming voice called out. Barry and his friends froze and spun around.

Ray Carmichael had gone to kindergarten with Dale. They’d always been the same size throughout their childhood, until Ray shot to 6 feet in the last year or so. He was thin but had a manic energy coursing through his wiry frame.

But next to Barry he didn’t look so tough. Barry was quarterback for the football team and was widely considered to be professional athlete material. He was half an inch shorter than Ray, but his bulky upper body made him look bigger.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Barry snarled as he advanced.

He had moved about one step when Ray sucker punched him. Barry went to the floor with his hand on his face, trying to staunch the blood and stifle his screams.

“You’re my fucking problem,” said Ray with a stone-cold calmness.

There were a couple of seconds as Barry started to clamber up. Dale saw the fear and rage in Barry’s eyes. No one had ever hit Barry that hard.

The football coach ran between the two boys and started to help Barry to his feet. He didn’t even look at Ray.

Figures, thought Dale. The football team was the pride of the town, and that made Barry the Coach’s number one investment. Dale’s top grades in math and science mostly got him bullied and mocked.

Ray turned to Dale. “You want to take off?”

“Sure,” shrugged Dale. He didn’t feel like hanging around to see if Barry and his teammates wanted to continue to round two.

“I hate that guy,” said Ray after they had walked a block in silence. “My Dad works at Leinster’s. Barry hit my Dad’s truck with his fucking Mustang. Barry won’t admit it, and Dad won’t tell the cops.”

Leinster’s Furniture was one of the few factories in the town in that still functioned. After most of the factories had moved overseas any job there was considered invaluable. Besides being the town’s football star, Barry was the heir presumptive to the Leinster fortune. Ray’s Dad simply couldn’t afford to anger the young princeling.

Dale looked sharply at Ray. Barry was practically worshipped for his sports ability and family money. His penchant for using his social status to harass people was known, but never spoken of in public. “Yeah, I don’t know why those guys have to be jerks,” observed Dale. “Barry’s been an asshole to me all year.”

Ray was a fighter; Dale wasn’t. Dale assumed Ray would look down at Dale, a confirmed bookworm and frequent bully victim.

Ray turned to face Dale, eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “Hey, I can help you with that! I set up a boxing ring in the basement.”

Boxing? Learn to defend himself? “Cool.”

Arriving at Ray’s house, Dale noticed the cracked paint on the walls and missing shingles on the roof. Ray whipped out his Guns N’ Roses keychain and unlocked the door. As soon as they entered, Ray went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The main contents were a variety of beers and pizza boxes.

“You want something?” asked Ray grabbing a piece of cold pizza and cramming it into his mouth.

“No, I’m good.” Dale wondered how long it would take to learn boxing. He already had visions of laying Barry Leinster flat on his back like Ray had done.

“C’mon,” said Ray. Dale followed him into the living room. He noticed a few magazines scattered around, dusty trophies and photos on a bookcase. Most of them were pictures of Ray at different ages. An infant being held by a pretty young woman. A 10-year-old Ray as a boy scout, and a recent picture of Ray with an older man Dale guessed was his grandfather.

Ray led Dale down some stairs leading to one end of the basement. Near the stairs was a washer and dryer, and a rack holding various tools next to them. Opposite the stairs was an area filled with weights and other exercise equipment, including boxing gloves and a punching bag. There was also a doorway that opened to another room.

Ray helped Dale put on some boxing gloves and they walked over to the standing punching bag. Dale put his left foot forward and pulled his right hand back. Ray noted his stance.

“Hey, you already know some stuff! Who taught you?”

“My Dad.” Dale took a swing at the bag, striking a glancing blow. The bag swung back at Dale, who put up his arms and stumbled back. He looked at Ray sheepishly. “We did it for an hour and my Mom made him stop.”

“Okay, let’s work on this.” Ray showed Dale what to do, including how to stand and how to put his shoulder into the punch. He had Dale do it slowly, over and over. When Dale had the motion down, Ray had him speed up.

Dale noted how far the punching bag moved and imagined doing that to Barry.

“Now, stand a little closer, and punch it hard. After you punch, just keep your hands down by your side. I’m going to hold on to your shoulders.”

Confused by this, but flush with the feeling of progress, Dale gave the bag the biggest punch he could. The bag flew back then forward. Dale tried to retreat, but Ray’s hands held him in place. The bag hit Dale squarely in the chest.

“See?” said Ray. “Don’t be afraid of a fight. You can give a punch, and you can take a punch.”

Dale looked down at his own chest. The bag had stung, but not really hurt. He really had taken a punch. Ray pointed to the door leading to another room.

“C’mon, I’ll show you my room.”

Ray’s room was cluttered with clothes, CDs, posters, a mini fridge and a bookcase with a piece of cloth draped over it. The only place to sit was a futon mattress on the floor. A boombox sat next to it. The only photo was a recent one of Ray with an 40ish man.

“Is that your dad?” asked Dale pointing.

“Yeah! He also got this fridge for me!” Ray said with excitement. He opened it and took out two small bottles of Gatorade. He handed one to Dale.

Ray walked over to the bookcase and pulled the cloth away to reveal a shelf of dog-eared paperback books on one shelf while a shoebox sat on another. Ray took the shoebox off the shelf and sat down on the mattress.

“Have a seat,” said Ray as he opened the box. He took out some rolling papers and a bag of weed. He used the lid of the shoebox to prepare a joint. Dale was about to say he had never tried pot and wasn’t sure he wanted to start. But Ray spoke before he could say that.

“Hey, I saw you reading those in the library the other day. What did you think?” Ray gestured to a copy of the Lord of the Rings trilogy on the bookshelf.

“Oh, yeah! Those are great!” Dale picked up Ray’s copy of the Fellowship of the Rings. It was an old copy, and but Dale thought it looked recently well thumbed.

“Do you think Tom Bombadil is really God?” asked Ray as he sprinkled the pungent herb into the rolling paper. “Think about it. The ring doesn’t do a fucking thing to him. He just shows up out of nowhere and tells Old Man Willow to let go of the Hobbits.”

“He also had a cool girlfriend,” interjected Dale.

“Speaking of cool girls, did you see Julie Jimenez on the soccer field today?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Of course, Dale noticed Julie Jimenez. Everyone did. She was captain of the cheerleading squad and the prettiest girl in the school. He had seen Ray talking to her a few times, although he couldn’t imagine Julie returning his interest. Dale knew her family was deeply religious, and Ray’s use of alcohol and weed were well known around town.

“I gave her a ride the other day.” Ray sprinkled the pot into the rolling paper. “I saw her walking out of the library. Of course, she acted like she didn’t want to. But I talked her into it. I asked her if she wanted to go out later, and she said she’d ask her Mom.”

Ray lit the joint and handed it to Dale. Without thinking any further, Dale took a short puff. He handed it back to Ray and grabbed his Gatorade before he could cough.

“First time, huh?” Ray said, taking a lengthy toke. “I’ll put it out in a minute. My Mom will be home soon, and she’ll want to smoke it if she smells it.”

Dale walked back over to the bookshelf. “Maybe Tom Bombadil is, like, all of Middle Earth. He’s like if Nature was a single person. He’s the opposite of Sauron. Sauron cuts the trees down and builds factories. Tom is, like, one with nature.”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Goldberry is like the female side of Middle Earth. She completes him. Tom calls her ‘River-daughter’, so she’s like the water that brings life to the Earth.”

Dale nodded in return. He had the same thought when reading the book. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway intruded on their thoughts. Ray shot up from the bed.

“Shit! It’s smells like pot in here!” Ray opened the small window that gave him a worm-eye view of the yard. He frantically turned on a fan.

“I should get home,” said Dale.

“How is that … I mean … Who was …?” Dale bent to pick up his phone.

“Remember Julie Jimenez?”

Dale dropped the phone again. He knew Ray and Julie dated briefly right after high school. Dale left for college about the same time and never knew much about their relationship. He was usually irked when he came for the weekend and Ray was too busy to spend with Dale.

Ray stepped forward, forcing Dale back down on the steps. “Hey Dale. Old Buddy. What the fuck is your job? You’re supposed to vet the interns. What’s the point of a background check when you can’t find this out?”

“Ray, you know what I do. I make sure your interns are two things: fuckable and from a poor family. This girl grew up in foster care. Her mother’s name was sealed. She was perfect! Top student, but easy to pay off!”

Dale picked his phone up from the gray cement steps. He was breathing hard and his words ran together.

“The daughter thing shouldn’t matter. We couldn’t know about that. This is just like all the others. We show the intern — what was her name? Jan? Jenny? We show her we can drag her whole life through the mud in public. Then we flash the cash. She’ll sign the settlement.” Dale looked up at the gray concrete façade of the building.

“They always sign”.

In the summer of 1995 Dale was back in town after his first year of college. He and Ray were sitting in Ray’s basement. They played the new game ‘Evander Holyfield’s Real Deal Boxing’ on a Sega Genesis. Ray had bought it with money from his new job selling used cars.

Ray hadn’t mentioned Julie all weekend and Dale didn’t ask.

“Yeah, got a bonus this month.” Ray pointed to piece of paper taped to the wall which proclaimed Ray as ‘#1 Salesman’ at Tarkanian Motors.

“Cool,” said Dale while concentrating on the game. “What’s that Camaro doing in the driveway? Is that yours?”

Ray sighed. “No, that would be great. That belongs to Mom’s new boyfriend.”

He concentrated on the game with an intense look on his face. “My Dad can’t even come over anymore. The last time he was here he got into a shouting match with Mom. They were so fucking loud the cops came. That witch took out a restraining order against him.” Dale noted ‘the witch’ was increasingly Ray’s favorite word for his mother.

Dale looked at the square pixels that made up the boxers on the screen. “We did a lot with graphics at programming camp. They could’ve made the motion a lot better. It’s really jerky here.”

“Yeah?” said Ray. “You think you could make something like this?”

Dale looked over at Ray. “Like this? Yeah. Probably. They don’t really move like real fighters. I would have them shift their weight a little.”

Ray concentrated on his fighter. “You could sell a shitload of games like that.” He was about to say more when the phone rang. He leaped across the room to answer, but his mother, sitting upstairs, was too fast. A few seconds later the boys heard the door to the basement open.

“RAY! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS ON THE PHONE,” she yelled.

Dale looked over at Ray who picked up the phone and quickly walked into the next room. Ray sounded angry but struggled to keep his voice down. Dale looked at the game while straining to listen. He could only make out a few words when Ray raised his voice. “Didn’t know… Not my… What do you…? Can’t…” Then Ray got louder. “Don’t understand… What the fuck? Don’t fucking blame me…”

“Bitch!” Ray slammed the phone down and stomped back into the room. He grabbed the shoebox from the bookcase. Ignoring the game, he began putting together a joint. His every motion was with a sharp jerk, as if he might rip everything apart at any moment.

“I can’t believe her bullshit,” Ray said while lighting the joint. “She’s always talking about Jesus and shit. She’s always ‘it doesn’t count if we do it this way’. Christ.” He took an especially large toke and showed no evidence of passing it to Dale.

Dale stood backstage watching Ray address a crowd of 5,000 screaming video game fanatics. A giant sign flashed ‘GAMECON 2005’ above his head. They had been going to the conventions for years, but this year they were rockstars. Well, Dale reflected, Ray was the rockstar. Their company, PunchDrunk Games had made $1 billion in revenue and their newest product ‘Sports with Orcs’ was the number one game in the fantasy/MMA crossover genre.

“Okay, Champs, do you want to meet the guy who does the real work?” The crowd roared their agreement.

“Dale Dembski, CTO and VP for Game Development! Get your ass out here!”

Dale half walked, half jogged out to stage. He tried a fist pump to get into the spirit, but he heard some guffaws that made him self-conscious. He was keenly aware of his short stature and pot belly next to Ray’s tall, muscular frame. Ray’s Iron Maiden t-shirt and black jeans gave him a dynamic, almost dangerous air; Dale’s gray t-shirt and denim pants made him look like a soccer dad on the weekend.

“A lot of you guys have been with us from the beginning. You know Dale is my oldest buddy in the world, and the real brains at PunchDrunk. Dale, how’d you get the idea for Sports with Orcs?”

“Well, Ray you know we started with sports games, and that’s where our passion is.” Hoots of approval from the audience.

“You remember that day we met Ray? You wanted to talk about Lord of the Rings?” Ray’s smile started to falter.

“I figured why not bring these classic game genres together? We had a bunch of product development meetings and — “

“That’s great, Dale! Folks, give it up for Dale! See you at the reception later!” Ray started to retreat backstage, nearly dragging Dale with him.

“Fuck, Dale, my image is badass, not nerd!”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m shit with the marketing stuff. That’s why you go out there. I hate doing the crowd stuff.”

The two men stood still, looking away from each other. Dale noted they were in a small pocket of quiet as the next speakers went on stage.

“Ray, you signed that settlement, right?”

“What settlement? You mean that thing with the temp or whatever she was?”

“Yes. That thing. If you don’t sign today, they’ll probably ask for more money. So, unless — “

“Fine, yes, alright,” said Ray shaking his head. “This is all bullshit. Lawyer bullshit and these little college girls who can’t handle themselves. All bullshit.”

Dale knew this would be Ray’s reaction. He had rehearsed a speech about how Ray needed to take responsibility. Dale would tell Ray he needed grow the fuck up and act like an adult. That Ray was putting everything they had built at risk.

Instead, Dale said nothing.

It was just past midnight when Dale returned to his hotel room. His fingers were numb from exhaustion as he fumbled with his key card. He had gotten the door open when he heard a noise behind him.

He turned to see the door of the opposite room was ajar. This was Ray’s room. Dale took a step forward and heard a noise, like someone muttering to himself.

‘Ray?’ The room was lit only by one desk lamp in the corner. Ray sat on the bed staring at his phone. Dale closed the door behind him and sat in a chair. They sat together in silence for a full five minutes. Long enough for Dale to smell the alcohol on Ray and see that he was crying.

‘My cousin told Mom about the one billion. Billion. With a fucking B. You know what she said? Is he still working on those stupid games?’

Dale looked down at the ground. He was too tired to hold Ray’s hand through one of his regular meltdowns over his Mother. But tomorrow Ray was giving another presentation, so Dale needed him to be focused.

‘Ray. This happened with the first investor. With the first sale. She’s never going to give you what you want. You’re just going to get hurt over and over.’

Ray looked up sharply. ‘You think she doesn’t pay attention? She texts me all the time. Tells me how great I look. She loves the car I bought.’ He looked at his phone as if he was talking to her. ‘She texts me on the phone I bought her.’

‘How can you not see it, Ray? She says nice about little stuff like your clothes. So you think she’ll give you the approval for the big stuff. She’s leading you on, man. It’s the same game for years.’

Ray looked up. ‘Why can’t she say something good? For once? Just once why can’t she believe in me?’ Ray’s body started to collapse, as if he might sink to the floor.

Dale put his hand on Ray’s shoulder. ‘Where the hell were you today? You were in a room of people who believe in you. People who know you’re awesome.’ Ray sat hunched over. Dale kneeled to be at his height.

‘I believe in you Ray. You made all this happen. I couldn’t have done it. But I knew you could. I always knew that. That’s why I’m sticking with you no matter what. It’s why you’re my best friend.’

Ray looked up when he heard the last word began to compose himself. Dale knew Ray didn’t like lingering displays of emotion, so he walked out of the room.

Ray leaned against the high school next to Dale.

“I don’t think it’s going to work this time. I heard from the board members. And some of the investors. They just talk about all the other settlements. The last couple times it got into the media and they think sales took a hit because of it, so…”

“Did they bring up the daughter stuff? You told them you had no idea, right? You had no way to know?”

Dale looked up at Ray. “You didn’t know, right?”

“Fuck you, Dale! That bitch told me she had an abortion. I guess Little Miss Christian had second thoughts, but she never told me,” snarled Ray.

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he continued. “What do they say these days? ‘The optics’. Once it hits the media, I’m fucking radioactive.”

Dale’s face suddenly brightened.

“I’ve got it! You’re sick! You need help!” Ray’s face twisted into a grimace.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re a sex addict! I mean, remember the whole thing about your mom and dad?” Ray became even angrier.

“What the fuck about my dad? What are you talking about?”

“Your dad was never around! Your mom had a revolving door of boyfriends! We get you to some rehab place. We put out a statement that you were raised with toxic masculinity. You’ll have to take a leave of absence. I’ll step in as CEO for a couple of months, and when you feel ready you can go before the board. Tell them you take responsibility for everything. You’re a changed person, you admit you hurt people, that you hurt the company -”

Ray’s eyes went wide and cold. The same look Dale saw in them when Ray punched Barry Leinster 25 years ago. Ray hooked one foot around Dale’s foot and shoved. Dale went tumbling.

“First of all,” said Ray towering over Dale, “next time you talk shit about my dad I break your jaw. Second, I’m not going to cry in public about mommy issues like some loser. I hate that shit. I’d rather walk away.”

Ray backed up a step.

“Third, the company couldn’t last a week with you as CEO. Perry and the board made that clear to me, too. No one thinks you have the chops for that. Look, you have to stand up to people in this job. Show aggression.”

Ray turned on his heel and went back to his car.

“You have to be a real man to do that job, Dale.”

Ray stopped after a few steps and turned around.

“Tell Perry to fuck himself! I’ve got all the Fuck You money I need! I quit and you blow your virtue signalling out your ass!”

“HERE HE IS!” bellowed a voice.

That voice made Dale’s entire body stop and freeze. Barry Leinster, in cargo shorts and a polo shirt that did not hide the 20 pounds he’d gained since high school bore down on him. Directly above him was a banner emblazoned with ‘WELCOME CLASS OF 1995 TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY’.

“Here’s the guy we all came here to meet! Are you shitting me?” Barry grabbed Dale’s hand and pumped it like he was trying to twist it off.

“Hey, Barry. Uh, how are you?”

“How am I? I’m good, yeah, I’m great! But you — hey you’re a millionaire now! You cashed in big time on the whole video game craze, right?” Barry took a sip from his drink. Dale could smell this was not Barry’s first drink of the evening.

Dale recognized his old chess club standing around a punchbowl. Thankfully he caught their eye and they called out to him.

“Great to see you, Barry, I’ll talk to you later!” Dale nearly sprinted to the other group.

“Yeah, okay, hey let’s keep in touch!” Barry wandered away unsteadily.

The chess club members swarmed around Dale, peppering him with questions while he got a drink. In the last few years, he had a developed a 10 second version of the last few 20 years. Ray had talked investors into putting in the initial money. Then endless rounds of going to gaming conventions and trying to get publicity.

“We just grew from there. We put out new games that did well, and now we’ve never been out of the top 10 selling games.” Everyone cooed and gasped how impressed they were.

Dale found himself standing next to Franny, one of his best friends on the chess team.

“Dale, remember how many hours we spent in the library, going over strategy?”

“God, yes! Remember how hard we practiced for the match against Burbank?” Franny vigorously nodded in agreement. “Hey, we won that year, too!”

“We missed you the next year Dale. It’s too bad you didn’t stay on the team.”

“Yeah, the next year, I was just…” It was hard to complete that sentence. The truth was he spent a lot of time with Ray, who found chess boring, or to use his word, ‘faggy’. Dale looked around and was glad to find a new subject.

“Hey, have you heard from Julie Jimenez? Is she coming?”

A sad look crossed Franny’s face. “I guess you didn’t hear. She got pregnant after high school and her family tossed her out. I heard the delivery was really hard, and she got hooked on the pain killers they gave her.”

“Jesus! I had no idea.”

“Yeah, she gave the baby up for adoption, and she died in jail. Really sad. She was such a sweetheart.”

Dale wandered through the crowd for another 20 minutes, frequently being stopped by people who wanted to hear about his success. A lot of them complained how their kids were obsessed by the video game PunchDrunk Games produced.

“We just give people what they want.”

Eventually he ran into Barry again, who was now so bleary with drink Dale was surprised he could stand.

“So Ray didn’t show, huh?” Barry had gone from boisterous happy drunk to sullen.

“Uh, no, he was just too busy. He really wanted to, though.”

“Did he?” sneered Barry, finishing his drink.

“Absolutely! You know, PunchDrunk wouldn’t be where it is without him. I wouldn’t be Chief Tech Officer if not for him.” Hopefully Barry would take the hint — if he wanted to suck up to Dale, don’t badmouth Ray.

Barry jabbed a finger into Dale’s chest. “That’s bullshit. I know guys like that. My Dad hired them all the time. They’re good at sales. But they’ve got to have something good to sell. That’s you Dale. You’re the math whiz. The tech genius. Does Ray know how to write a line of computer code? He owes you, Dale. He owes you everything.”

Barry looked at his empty glass. “I’m getting another drink. Good to see you.”

The meeting alert came up on Dale’s computer. He dismissed the alert, as well as the news story about some new virus identified in China. He was writing a module for ‘Dragon Blaster’, the new fantasy game he was shepherding through development. Ray always told him he didn’t have time to do the coding himself, but Dale couldn’t give up his first passion.

He continued to work for another few minutes. It was the normal weekly senior staff meeting, but this week would be harder than usual.

When he arrived, Dale was about 5 minutes late. The tension in the room was palpable.

Ajit, PunchDrunk’s VP of Finance, was delivering the news everyone already knew. The latest version of their flagship game, ‘PunchDrunk Boxing’ had just been released and the numbers were dismal. Sales were 25% less than expected. Ray was sitting at the head of the table glowering.

“We needed to add more features to this one,” suggested Sally, VP of Marketing. “A lot of influencers were saying this is pretty much a copy of the last version. They’re telling the fans not to spend the money on it.”

Sally didn’t bring up the clickbait article that also had influencers talking. ‘PunchDrunk Badboy CEO in yet another sex scandal’. Dale wondered how many people in the room knew how much the latest out of court settlement had cost the company.

“So, Dale. What was the problem? Why didn’t you build a decent game?” Ray asked sharply. Everyone else swiveled to look at Dale.

He saw some relief in their faces. None of them wanted the wrath of Ray directed toward them. He struggled to remember all their names — in the last few months Ray had gotten rid of the managers who had been with the company since the beginning. For most of the Vice Presidents, this was the first management job they ever had.

“Well, this year had a very aggressive schedule. We had a couple of major releases this year, and we didn’t have time to put into this game. We’ve got some conventions coming up and we wanted to — “

“Are you the royal ‘We’ now Dale?” sneered Ray. The room gave a nervous laugh.

“Uh, no, Ray, I mean the whole team — “

“Guys, everyone needs to take responsibility for their job. If you think you’re having trouble, don’t worry about asking for help.” Ray looked around as he said this, but his gaze came to rest on Dale.

“I do take responsibility Ray! I wrote the first version of PunchDrunk Boxing myself! I’ve been at this company since — “ Dale looked around the room. Everyone was looking at the ceiling or the floor, but not at Dale.

Dale composed himself and tried to think of something constructive. “We can release an add-on. Some new fighters, add a cut scene or two. We could get that to market — “

Ray interrupted. “Sally, set up a meeting with Dale for, say, every Tuesday and Thursday. Try to come up with a plan and keep up me advised with what you find.”

“Sure, Ray,” said Sally sweetly.

A few minutes later Dale rushed through the halls to his next meeting. He tried to bring up some documents on his phone while trying not to collide with other people. This was more challenging than usual because he felt an odd, creeping numbness in his fingers. His feet seemed to increase in weight, as if every step required a massive effort.

Finally he reached the Human Resources department and walked by the interview rooms, peeking in each one. The last room contained a middle-aged woman whose formal business attire stood out in PunchDrunk’s relaxed dress code. A younger woman, dark haired and pretty, sat in a stylish jacket and blouse. He tapped on the glass and the older woman waved him in.

‘Hi Sally!’ Dale sounded a little forced as he greeted Sally Rhodes, the company’s Human Resources manager.

‘Hi Dale!’ Sally turned to the young woman. ‘Jen, this is Dale Dembski our CTO! Dale, this is Jen Franks. We were talking about her coming on board as an intern.’

‘It’s such an honor Mr. Dembski!’ Jen stood and offered her hand. Dale noted her firm handshake and strong eye contact.

‘It’s great to meet you Jen, just let me….’ He started to scroll through his phone looking for Jen’s resume.

‘Are you looking for the resume? You can look at my copy.’ Sally pushed a copy over to Dale. He scrutinized it with great interest.

‘Yes, okay…. Marketing major in your senior year… that’s all great.’ He looked up at Jen. ‘We’re looking for someone who can work directly with senior management. Myself as well as the CEO.’ Sally and Jen exchanged glances that suggested neither expected this.

‘Of course,’ gushed Jen. ‘I would love to do that, and I’m sure I could be a valuable part of the team.’ Dale nodded in agreement.

‘Just before you came in Jen was talking about how she got interested in video games.’ Sally looked at Jen to prompt her.

‘Yeah! I really think video games are really the new form of storytelling. I grew up playing your games! I really loved Dungeon Smashers, because I could see all the Tolkien references! I mean, it was really clever.’

That made Dale’s heart skip a beat. He always tried to put as many literary references as he could in the games and noted very few people ever noticed them.

‘Oh, and I loved the little song the gnomes sing! My Dad used to read the Hobbit to us when I was a kid, so I memorized all the lyrics. The gnome song was totally based on that, right?’ Jen’s eyes shone with enthusiasm.

‘Uh, yes, that’s right. I mean, the lyrics are changed but definitely inspired by that.’ Dale looked down at his phone. He seemed to notice something on it although the screen was blank. ‘I have another meeting to go to, but this has been great.’

He turned to Sally. ‘She can work with Ray. You guys can work out the details.’ Jen and Sally exchanged another glance of delight and surprise.

Dale abruptly stood up. ‘Great meeting you.’

He left without shaking Jen’s hand and headed into the hallway. He managed to get to the men’s room and was relieved no one was in it. He had barely entered a stall when he vomited into the toilet.

Dale was still on the ground when he heard Ray’s car roar to life and squeal out into traffic.

He slowly picked himself up. He saw the screen of his phone was cracked now, but still functioned. He turned the camera on and flipped it so he could see himself. After making sure his hair was in place and his clothing straight, he returned to his Tesla Model X.

Throwing his weight into his car seat, Dale tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He opened the glove compartment to pull out another phone.

He took a few breaths until he felt calm. Then he punched in a number and hit dial. There was an answer after one ring.

“Dale?” said a voice on the other end.

“Hello Perry. I met with Ray. He understands the situation.” Dale took another deep breath. “He understands completely. He won’t be a problem.”

“Good. That’s great. We’ll talk soon.” Perry hung up.

Dale sat for several minutes with the phone in his hand. The only sound was the slight breeze through the trees. He looked out at the quiet suburban street, with empty yards in front of houses filled with anxious people trying to live their lives from a computer screen. People who might like a new video game, reflected Dale.

He went back to his own phone, and went to the special, extra encrypted files he had under another name. It was a report he had compiled when he decided to look further into the life and death of Julie Jimenez. Regular google searches didn’t reveal much, but he knew people who were very good at finding out about people. He had used them several times to find dirt on the women who threatened to sue PunchDrunk for harassment.

Dale kept his investigators searching until they found Julie’s daughter. He was intrigued to learn she was a marketing major at a local university. PunchDrunk had hired several interns from the school. Dale made sure every marketing major at that school got an application to PunchDrunk.

Leaking the info in a way that wasn’t traceable to Dale was a little trickier. But with enough money to the right people anything is possible.

A young woman on a bicycle sped by. Dale couldn’t help but notice her toned legs and attractive figure under a tight t-shirt.

I’m going to enjoy being CEO, thought Dale.