The first chapter now graces this story. Shall we?
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Chapter 1:
Tuesday 17th January 2012
492 Lipsett Avenue, Staten Island, NY
0635 Hours
"A buzzard took the monkey for a ride in the air
The monkey thought that ev'rything was on the square
The buzzard tried to throw the monkey off his back
But the monkey grabbed his neck and said, now, listen, Jack
Straighten up and fly right
Straighten up and fly right."
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The phone alarm was cut off early, Jameson Bacciarelli had awakened in his bed. He was laying on his back. His front was covered by a black vest.
He picked up the journal that laid on his bedside as he wrote inside it.
"Dear Diary,
I awake from my sleep, the nightmares of my time in the Marines still seared into my brain, memories of killing combatants that had tried to kill me on countless occasions and 3 times that they had nearly succeeded.
The reminders are there, they don't hurt as much as they used to. Much like my twin Stefan, we were both strong enough to handle our scars.
How to begin this beautiful morning? I thought I'd head to the bakery, put in a shift, thankfully Lena and Natalia were helping out at the bakery whilst I would be working the front. It's quite an interesting position.
I just hope pray that my memories of the war aren't too hostile."
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Jameson got out of bed and put boxing tape around his hands. He walked to the punching bag, forming a fighting stance, he began to beat the punching bag, the muscles flexed his body, he began to speed up the effects of his punches, throwing a right hook and a left hook as well.
Jameson was very good at boxing, made it look easy, he had been boxing since he was 7 years old, his Grandfather had gotten him into the sport. He punched the bag using the 'Double Tap' method. He was exceptionally very good in the art of hand-to-hand combat.
Whilst Jameson continued boxing, a man walked down Lipsett Avenue, he wore white and black shoes, very expensive. Expensive suit, he looked like one of those wise-guys from the old film noirs of the early to mid-20th Century.
In his hand was a silver-plated cigarette case, he patted it against his hand, he pulled a cigarette out of the case putting it in his mouth.
He stopped outside 492 Lipsett Avenue, he lit his cigarette before extinguishing the match, he pulled out a pen and began to scribble on the matchbook. He dropped it into the mailbox and walked away from the household just smoking.
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It was now 1115, Jameson was freshly showered and clean-shaven. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, black tie with a clip in the middle. He wore a pair of dark slacks and a pair of black shoes, he had done boxing, weight-lifting and push-ups.
He checked the mail box, there was no letter but he found a matchbook on the floor, he rose an eyebrow as he picked it up, he saw the picture of a musician playing a saxophone, he turned the matchbook to reveal an address '131 W 3rd St' Jameson recognised the address being in Manhattan, the name of the club being the Blue Note Jazz Room.
Jameson pocketed the matchbook in his suit jacket. He was curious to find out what all the fuss was about regarding the matchbook.
He was thankful, he had a 4-hour shift in the bakery starting at 12 and finishing at 4.
Jameson looked at the clock on the wall, noticing it was now 1120 hours, he decided to head to the bakery, he picked up his suit jacket, he hanged the jacket on a coat-hanger in his black Mercedes-Benz C Class car.
He then drove off heading for the bakery which was located at 821 Annadale Road. Jameson parked the car round the back of the bakery, he put his watch in the glove compartment of the car itself, in the glove compartment was his handgun which was a M9 Beretta.
He walked inside to see his siblings working hard as he said, "Morning."
"Morning Jameson, how'd you sleep?" Lena said. Jameson replied, "No worse than the last couple of nights."
Lena nods, "Don't worry brother, it'll be okay."
Jameson gives a small smirk as he said, "This'll be where you try to convince me to get out more and try to meet someone."
"Couldn't hurt, Jameson. But for the sake of everyone, just meet someone." Natalia replied coming into the room carrying an empty tray, the tray covered with dough and small specks of bread laid on it.
Jameson rolled his eyes before saying, "Maybe I enjoy being single."
Both his younger sisters rolled their eyes in annoyance before he said, "Now can we get to work? It won't be long before the entire store is swarmed with customers."
Natalia laughed as she said, "Yes sir, Master Gunnery Sergeant, sir."
"I work for a living." Jameson's voice called out from the office.
Jameson exited the staffroom and he wore an apron round him so that he couldn't cause a mess all over his clothing.
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He set up on front Natalia gave him a quick run through of the till, helping him out with several customers so that he wouldn't forget how to work the machine. After Natalia had made sure Jameson was completely confident in his ability to work the register, she left him to it and headed to help Lena make more baked goods.
Jameson then saw the door open as he saw a brunette walk in as he said, "Good afternoon, how may I help?"
"I was hoping to buy one of your chocolate cookies?" the brunette said.
Jameson smiled as he said, "That'll be 99 cents, was there anything else for you?" "No, just one chocolate cookie." The brunette said with a smile flashing her teeth at him whilst handing a dollar bill to him.
Jameson softly smiled as he nodded, he put the dollar bill in the register and handed the lady her change. She nodded as Jameson prepared a chocolate cookie and put it in a paper bag so that it would remain hot as he said, "Here's your chocolate dessert." "Thank you, sir." The brunette continued to flirt with him as she walked out.
Jameson looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 1315 hours in the afternoon. He looked upwards; three women flirted with him today. He had to turn them down gently.
As a young man, Jameson never really had fallen in love with any of the girls from high school. He had focused on his studies, but he had time for football and baseball. He had been a captain of all two teams.
Jameson was winner of three football and baseball championships and he had every girl vying for his attention and Stefan's.
Stefan usually took the girls off Jameson's hands and took them on dates. Jameson was the scholar, he even had scholarships to every school in the country, but he had turned them down in favour of serving his country with honor and pride. After 14 years of active duty, it was fair to say that he and his brother had done everyone proud in their city.
But ever since Stefan died in November 2010, he felt a deep regret coming home alone. He wanted his brother to be with him when they got back from the war.
Now Jameson had one job to do and that was to fight for his family. Himself and his sisters were all that was left of their proud family.
He was the last man to carry on the family name.
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2 hours 35 Minutes Later
It was nearing the end of Jameson's shift at the Bacciarelli family bakery. There had been very few customers coming into the bakery. This allowed Jameson to stock up on pastries that they appeared to be running low on.
He also stocked up on heatproof bags so that customers could not burn their hands. He then looked around the bakery, it looked stocked and it had been swept clean earlier from Jameson's efforts. He then turned to see Lena who stood and said, "Do you want to head home early?"
"It's only 1550 hours." Jameson said. Lena nodded, "I know. I'm checking if you wanted to leave yet or wait a little while longer." "I will leave at the time appropriate." Jameson said.
Lena nodded as she stood by her brother who had said, "I know we didn't speak much, but how have you been since I was overseas with the Marines?"
"I've been well. Just tryin' to move on from losin' Dad, Stefan and Mom. How'd you deal with loss overseas?" Lena asked.
Jameson shook his head, "I often wondered that myself…"
Jameson looked at the watch as he said, "It alright if I go?"
Lena looked at the clock as she said, "Yeah, you can go, big brother." "I'll see you tonight. If not, I'll see you in the morning." Jameson said with a soft smile.
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Jameson exited the shop floor and clocked out, he walked to his car getting in, he pulled out a vertical gun holster and put it on. he picked up his suit jacket and left the buttons undone.
He started the car up and drove off for Manhattan. The drive had taken him 51 minutes. He parked at Washington Square Park.
He waited a few minutes as he took a look at the matchbook in his pocket. He opened it to reveal a message that said, "Be at the bar 7 p.m."
Jameson's eyebrows furrowed in mystery, he pulled out his M9 and put in his holster, he did the holster up and walked out of the car. He locked it and began walking to Washington Square Diner, he sat down and ordered a burger and fries. He paid cash and ate as soon as the order came to him.
After eating, he paid a generous tip for the waitress and walked out. From the distance a man watched him, a rather disconcerting look appeared on his face.
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Jameson walked to the Blue Note as the bouncer said, "Head on through."
From inside the sounds of jazz were slow, there was a slow beat in the air. Saxophones filled the air as the boys on stage played really well. The crowd was enamoured with the sounds, smoke filled the air from the cigarettes.
Jameson approached the bar as he laid a 5-dollar bill saying, "Glass of Jameson, no ice."
The bartender looks over at him and smiles, "I'll handle this one, Jasmine. Handle the others."
Jameson smiled as he said, "Anya Mitchell. It's been a while."
The bartender wore a silver dress, dark hair curled going down past her shoulders. She put a cigarette in her mouth as Jameson lit it up for her. She smiled laying a glass of Jameson on the bar as she said, "Jameson, you've finally come for me. To take me from this place and sweep me off my feet."
"I just needed a drink." Jameson replied. Anya took a drag from her cigarette as she said, "Why won't you sweep me off my feet?"
"Plenty of men would, pick one." Jameson said holding his glass of whiskey taking a sip from it.
Anya just smiled sultrily before saying, "I have… he's sweet but a fool. I throw myself; he never catches." "Sounds like those shy Italian boys from the neighbourhood." Jameson smirked.
"Why you here, Jameson?" Anya replied.
Jameson looked down at the matchbook as he said, "A rendezvous. Don't be bitter Anya."
"She more beautiful than me?" Anya asked looking at the matchbook. Jameson shrugged his shoulders, "More beautiful wouldn't be possible." "Sexier?" Anya asked seductively.
Jameson bit his lip with a smirk rising from the corner of his lip. Anya leaned in breathing out, "Think carefully before you answer."
Jameson looked at the clock on the wall noticing it is approaching 7 o'clock as he said, "Almost 7 o'clock. Guess we'll both find out."
"Oh, Jameson, darlin' Jameson. A blind date." Anya breathed out. She looked over to see a man in a dark suit with a patterned tie as she said, "You could do so much better."
"How about later tonight? I'll walk you home." Jameson replied.
Anya smiled walking off, "I get off at 8."
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Jameson watched as the guy sat down next him as the guy said, "You the fella?"
"The fella left, I'm the one drinking." Jameson retorted harshly. The guy looked with some recognition as he said, "Oh no, you're him. Master Gunnery Sergeant Bacciarelli. Marines, right?"
"Reserves, now." Jameson said. The guy kept talking, "Not now, but then. Jameson Bacciarelli. It was what the fella said."
Jameson looked puzzled as he said, "What fella?" "Fella pointed you out. Told me you'd be here. Told me to call you Master Gunnery Sergeant Bacciarelli. Said you might have a kick out of it. Told me you fought through Baghdad keeping everybody in your unit alive." The guy said with a small smile.
Jameson growled softly, "Look, you don't know me. I suggest you get on with what you're doing. Quit shakin' your ass."
"There's a grand in this for you. I need a pal, a Marine, someone who knows how to handle himself, someone who know what's he doing. Show up, look mean and it'll take an hour of your time tops."
"Any details?" Jameson asks. The guy nods, "Alright, the fella who pointed you out that said you saved every man in Baghdad said you're a man who's trustworthy. I asked around and not many people give their general opinion. Can I confide?"
"Confide away." Jameson said with a roll of his eyes.
"There's a guy. Not the guy who said you saved everyone. This guy is a higher-up somebody who gets his face in the papers. The guy who pointed you out is a go-between…"
"A consigliere of sorts." Jameson theorises. The guy nods, "On the button. Now the higher-up he wants somethin' I've got. I'm happy to hand it over to him… but the hitch, I want to be compensated for my trouble."
"Transact, assumin' there's a hitch?" Jameson says. The guy nods, "The guy's the hitch. He's not reasonable and he resents that I'm invitin' him to negotiate with me. I can't talk about the item. All I can say is that life will be made difficult if it was revealed."
Jameson finally guesses the truth as he says, "Blackmail and it fits. You want me to be there in case he decides to be a little unreasonable. You want me to tag along and watch your ass."
"This is gonna go down in a couple days, maybe 2 or 3 at the latest. Don't think too long on it. Here's my card. You probably don't remember me, but I served alongside you in the 6th Marines. Fought at Al-Anbar Province." The guy replied laying his card on the table.
"John Harper, right? Private First Class?" Jameson said remembering.
"Made Corporal in '08. Heavy action in Helmand." John said.
Jameson then said, "Always knew you brains, kid." "Yeah, you did. See you around Master Guns." John said.
Jameson nods finishing his glass of whiskey.
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Anya appears, clearly finished her shift as she said, "You alright?"
"Not really. I'll drive you home." Jameson said. Anya nods.
The pair walk to his car as they drive to Anya's apartment in Lower Manhattan. They walk to her apartment as she says, "Thanks for driving me home." "Girl like you, no matter how tough she is… should never walk home late in this city." Jameson replied.
Anya smiled and closing the gap between them as Anya kissed him. The kiss broke a minute later as he said, "Have a good night, Anya." "You too Jameson." Anya said.
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Jameson walked down the stairs off the apartment building, he got into his car, he started it up. After a few minutes, he began to drive and headed towards Staten Island. Before he got to Annadale, he parked the car at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Boardwalk, this was where he used to go fishing as a teenager.
He sat on the bench as he closed his eyes for a brief minute. He breathed in the air; the smell of the ocean filled a small amount of peace within him. The ocean remained still, shifting slowly in the night.
Jameson pulled out his journal removing the pencil as he began writing.
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"Dear Diary,
My hopes that my memories of the war would not surface today during my volunteer shift at the bakery came close to revealing its head.
Seeing the fire of the bread oven, it reminded me of the burning wrecks of enemy tanks and the aftermath of failed IEDs that cars were used for. The silent screams of my fallen comrades haunt me purely.
Whenever I clench my fist, I still feel the scar of the blade stabbing through my hand from that combatant who nearly killed me 5 years ago.
Nobody came back from the war the way they had gone in. Me, I had gone in prepared, ready, determined. I was ready to bring honor and fight bravely for my family. Even if I had to do the things, I abhorred the most to protect the one thing that I have loved the most… my family.
But I sense that my heart is empty, something else alludes me. Something I can't place my finger on."
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I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter and it was an enjoyable experience for you…
Please like and comment. I hope you have a lovely day.