(*Important Note Before You Read: This is the second installment of the Jamie Gabrielle Vinci story. The character Teng, including her attire and actions, except for the small talk with Jamie, belongs to ‘mystical_grasseater’ or “Michael” whose last name the author doesn’t know. J.Gi Federizo — moi — used the character with his permission. As I have no way to inform him and the first guy, Kevin Craig, everytime I post this and the first installment (the Yahoo! group folded up a long time ago), I’d rather mention them. I have no plans of earning from this so they can rest easy…Anyhoo, hope you like this one. I have done some tweaking to avoid certain problems that may or may not come up)



Grande Macchiato. What a lovely name. So Jamie decided to have some more of it and went back into the café.

She had earlier entered BrewsNook somewhat absent-mindedly and simply ordered the first words that caught her eye in the displayed list. She drank it outside just as absent-mindedly as her mind wandered off, dreaming of J. Gabrielle Vinci’s future glory days, and eventually letting out sighs of disappointment as her thoughts wandered more to her problem at hand.

Could have stayed that way if not for Mr. Pinkoe who stuck an itsy-bitsy pink note on the transparent window and woke her up. He could have stuck it on her face, in fact, but thankfully, he did not. One laughing-session-with-some-stranger after, she finished her drink and decided she liked it after all.

“Classic Macchiato, please,” Jamie ordered just as someone stood beside her.

The BrewsNook employee acknowledged the other person. “Your order, Miss?”

“Café Cubano, please, on ice,” came the reply.

Jamie took note of the accent. Asian, no mistake about it. Perhaps Chinese, or maybe Japanese. No matter. She loved Asians, especially since she was part-Asian herself.

Jamie stole a glance at the other woman who was fortunately looking somewhere else. Oh, it was she. Asian, alright. It was only Jamie’s third time in that certain BrewsNook branch and every time, the woman was there as well. Maybe she was a regular customer.

‘ Teng.’  That was probably her name. Jamie had overheard someone call the woman that the other day. She thought it was cute, like the sound typewriters made at the end – Teng! The previous days, Teng proceeded to the rear part of the café, sat, and shuffled her tarot cards on the table. Maybe she would sit there today, too.

Today, Teng had her red silk cape again. Blue jeans. Brown cowboy boots. Amber-tinted sunglasses. Fashionable? Maybe. Jamie admired people who took fashion into their own skin, however different, as long as it suited the wearer, and Teng’s attire suited her without question. Add flawless, glowing skin to the ensemble.

But it was not the attire or her behavior that made people aware of Teng. Somehow, she exuded an aura that was…not all together there, not entirely, but…there. There was just no word to fit, Jamie realized. And Jamie blushed profusely when she also realized she had stared too much for far too long, Teng was now looking at her. The eyes were hidden under glasses, but she knew they were eye-to-eye.

“Classic Macchiato, Café Cubano,” the employee had announced and Jamie took the opportunity to look away.

Didn’t your mother say it’s rude to stare at people?, she reprimanded herself as they each took their orders. Their eyes met again (Jamie could just tell), but this time, the woman smiled at her a bit, prompting her to smile back to make up for the staring. Teng turned around to leave. In an instant, she was back looking at Jamie who half-expected a scolding or something.

It was a something, at least. A weird something. “Do not let it trouble you. All things will fall into place. Perhaps not as soon as you think, but they will,” Teng said in such a mysterious way, Jamie’s heart skipped.

“E-excuse me?”

“Everything will be alright. Simply take it one step at a time.”

Oh, boy, this is weird. “What do you mean?”

To this, Teng’s brows furrowed as she cast her eyes down, as if she was wondering herself. “I don’t know. I just…know.” Having said this, Teng shrugged her shoulders, turned around again, and went to her usual table to shuffle cards that came wrapped in black silk.

Photo from the Net

Jamie stood dumbfounded. Holy–! Did Teng really know what she was talking about? She did say she had no idea, though. Jamie would’ve asked more about it, but decided against it when a man in corporate attire beat her to talking with Teng.

Jamie collected herself, sighed, and resigned. Nevermind, she’s probably just a fake psychic or whatever, she thought, going out to find the seat she abandoned still empty. She sighed again as she sat. Fake or not, Jamie wished Teng had sat near the window in front of her. It was weird that Teng somewhat guessed something about her and Teng didn’t seem anything near crazy at all. Jamie sighed again, realizing that sighing was becoming a bad habit.

It wasn’t long when…“Excuse me, Miss. May I please have this seat?” Jamie looked up to find a guy standing in front of her, hot coffee in one hand, an order of California Maki in the other, magazine tucked in between his arm and waist.

Jamie gave him one of her standard replies. “I’m sorry, but I’m busy,” she said, giving him a smile that was not to be construed as an invitation, rather, something one gave for polite purposes.

“Yeah, I know, but I won’t really bother you, Miss.”

Yeah, right. “Sorry, but I’m waiting for somebody.”

“There are more than two seats here. Maybe you could lend me one? Or I could stay and then leave when your friend arrives,” he insisted.

Oh, no, one of those who just would not go away that easily. Jamie decided to be blunt. “Mister, you really have to stop this.” He gave her a questioning look. Hmp. Playing innocent. “Okay. At the risk of being called rude, I have to tell you, I really have no time for you whatsoever. No conversations. I have a lot on my mind and I really wanna concentrate on them…So please, leave?”

The guy first looked at her, confused, and then, as if suddenly gifted with the power to comprehend, he gave a little mocking smile. “Oh, I see, I see…You’re right…” he said, nodding his head a little, “You are rude.”

This time, Jamie was the one confused. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse you? Right after you insulted me? God! What an ego! Get off your high horse, will you? I mean, didn’t it even occur to you that maybe, I really was  just looking for a seat? Maybe I wasn’t trying to hit on you? Maybe you’re not even my type?” He shook his head again. “You know what? Forget it.” Having given her his own piece of mind, he turned and left the table.

Stunned, Jamie watched him leave and stand a distance away, surveying his surroundings. It was true that he needed a seat, she realized. The place was full again today and there was no available chair for him outside anymore. He was telling the truth after all. Jamie felt a pang of guilt. What was she thinking? He was right. What an ego she had. A big, fat ego. She watched as he turned to enter the café to look for a seat.

Suddenly, Jamie stood up. “Hey, Mister!” she called out to him. The guy turned to look at her. “You can have this seat.”

He was confused again yet annoyed. Probably thinking that she flipped her lid. “What?”

“You can have this seat.” To this, he gave a more confused look and asked why as he went nearer. An apology was in order. “Look, you’re right. I’m sorry I was rude to you. Guess, it’s just that my days have not been going great lately…Have a seat?”

He did take the seat opposite hers, put his coffee and food down, flipped through the magazine, started reading, and completely ignored her. Jamie bit her lip. Well, she did have it coming. So she just concentrated on her drink, spooning up all of the criss-crossed splash of caramel meticulously with her straw before drinking the rest. Once, she glanced at the guy and found him watching her, an amused expression on his face. But then he looked away and back to the magazine, pretending to be engrossed in it. Jamie could not help but smile to herself .

Model: Mumay

Just then, Jamie’s face contorted a little and before she knew it,… “Achoo.” Oops…She would have apologized if he didn’t start snickering, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to, still pretending that he was reading. “Heeeeyyyy…” she said, good-naturedly. So he abandoned all efforts to stop snickering altogether and laughed away. Jamie let him. She owed him that.

When he finally mellowed down, it was to say, “Bless you.”

“Thank you.”

“Was that a real…I mean…Did you really sneeze?”

“Yeah, I know, I get that all the time. They say I sneeze like a kitty cat.”

“A kitty cat! Yes, that’s right! I was wondering how I would describe it…” he was smiling broadly now. Nice smile. Jamie was a sucker for nice smiles. He had the kindest eyes, too, now that he wasn’t mad anymore. In fact, when he was mad, he still looked kind. Straight dark hair that reached the nape, complementing the brown eyes. “By the way,…I’m sorry, too, for what I said to you. My day has not been going great as well.”

“I understand. Troubles make people cranky at times…You better take your coffee now or it’ll turn cold.”

“Oh.” He did and took a sip. “But I see you have a nice way of drinking yours as well. I feel like ordering a cold one myself. But anyway,…Oh, hey, sorry, I’m bothering you now.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m really in need of a little chat right now. I was just cranky because these guys kept coming up to me and hitting on me and, well, you know, it could get so annoying.”

“Now, I understand what happened! Don’t worry, I wasn’t hitting on you. I was just a guy trying to find the nicest way to enjoy his coffee.”

“And you like to read, too, I see. What magazine is that?” He showed her the cover. “In A Nutshell. That’s a magazine title? Never heard of it.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re relatively new. Their office is a floor above the office where I work, which is also owned by the owners of the publication. In fact, the whole building is theirs.”

A publication? This got Jamie’s interest. “Really. Do you happen to know if they’re in need of more writers? Maybe they’ll have room for me.”

“Oh, so you’re a writer? Great! Well, I’m not sure if they need more people, but I can find out when I get back to New York.”

“New York?”

“Yup. That’s where I work. I’m just here for some research. I work as art director for their ad agency.”

“I love New York! Maybe I’ll go check the magazine myself and see if they can accommodate me.”

“Oh, well, then, here,” he searched through his pockets, produced a piece of business card and handed it to her. “Here’s my card. So you’ll know where to find the Nutshell. I know you can very well Google ’em, but in case you need my help…”

Jamie finally learned his name. “Isaac Matlin.”

“Call me Zach.”

“Hello, Zach,” Jamie said as they shook hands. “Gabrielle Vinci.”

“Gabrielle,” he repeated.

“Call me Jamie.”

He gave her another one of his confused looks again before smiling and said, “Okay, hello, Jamie.”

Jamie nodded. Yup. Today, she felt like Jamie. Not Gabrielle, the worldly, sophisticated chick she often pretended to be. Just Jamie, the young, fun-loving dreamer.

Zach looked at her, studying her. “Hey, for someone who was so feisty earlier, you actually seem kinda nice.”

Jamie scowled. “Kinda?”

“Alright. Nice. Kinda funny, too.”

Jamie smiled for the nth time, contorted her face a little, and gave him the most unexpected reply. “Achoo.”

Hmnn. Maybe Teng was right after all. All things would fall into place.


Copyright © J.Gi Federizo



For more of Jamie’s ongoing story, visit THE JAMIE TALES page.


(*Important Note Before You Read: The story of Jamie Gabrielle Vinci is the sole property of J.Gi Federizo, myself. However, the characters of the man who keeps posting pink notes and the man who keeps following him, including their actions and the note, belong to Kevin Craig. J.Gi (me) used the characters with Mr. Craig’s permission. The piece was part of a writing group exercise wherein one’s character(s) got to meet/inter-act with the others’. I got the idea to “breathe air” into the scowling girl Kevin’s characters encountered.

The group attempt failed but I decided to continue just for fun and to keep me writing….So if this first installment seems kind of — okay, really — weird, it’s because it is. It becomes more “normal” and coherent in the next parts, though. I have been doing some tweaking to update information. It’s just light writing, so please bear with it, like when you watch a movie for the entertainment value and nothing else…LOL!!! )


Copyright © gigabiting.com

Copyright © gigabiting.com

Jamie Gabrielle Vinci…Too long…Jamie G. Vinci? Eek. Too nursery rhyme-y.

Once, there was Jamie G. Vinci

who got stuck up the big oak tree

she tried her best to get down, you see

fell down so hard, she broke a knee.

Eek. No, thank you…J.G. Vinci? Yeah, right. Just as tacky…Hmnn…How about J. Gabrielle Vinci?…J. Gabrielle Vinci…Hey, that’s it! J. Gabrielle Vinci!…Watch out, world, here I come!’

So went Jamie’s train of thought as she sipped a cup of coffee at BrewsNook along Yonge Street, facing the transparent window of the café. Not that there was anything that interesting to look at at that particular moment. And if there was any, she was lost in her thoughts to even care. J. Gabrielle Vinci, she thought, Yup. That name is definitely going places. She was lost in the euphoria of day-dreaming about conquering the literary world.

“Uh-hurm,” someone cleared his throat from her left, pushing Jamie out of her reverie. She turned to look up at a handsome guy – perfect teeth, perfect built, perfect skin – who smiled down at her. “Hello. The name’s Cole,” the guy said, offering a handshake.

Jamie gave a courteous smile, ignoring Cole’s hand. She didn’t feel like flirting today. “Hello.”

“Mind if I share your table?” he said, pulling the seat beside hers. “I mean, what’s a pretty girl like you -”

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry. But I’m not alone. That’s kinda occupied already.” She lied. She knew where the conversation was heading.

Cole gave a surprised expression and then looked around. “Really? I’ve been watching you from inside the café for, like, ten minutes, and I haven’t seen any – ”

“My boyfriend. He’s just fashionably late. He always is, especially since today’s Karate Day.” Jamie put a matter-of-factly cover.

“K-Karate Day?”

“Yeah. He has a black belt. They over-practice at times, but he should be arriving ree-al soon,” she said, making a show of checking her watch. She didn’t know if martial artists do over-practice, but if this white lie would serve the purpose…

That got him. “Uh, I guess I better…”

Yeah, you better. “Okay, bye, nice meeting you, Cole,” she said, waving at his retreating back as he walked away fast and turned around the corner.

He was not that long gone when another guy, a gorgeous Latino this time, pulled the same chair and sat down in front of her. “Good morning. ”

Jamie, peeved already by the intrusion in her private world, stopped him from going any further. “Look. To be honest, I’m not interested in your name or your address or your number. I don’t wanna give you my name or my address or my number. No, we don’t need to be ‘friends’ on Facebook. I don’t need a relationship right now, and I’m not interested in having one with you. No need for idle conversations, either. I just wanna be left alone. So, will you please, please, just leave me be?”

Taken aback by her little tirade, the Latino stared at her, astonished. “Or should I say all of that in Latin?” she added. He gave an embarrassed smile, raised his hands in surrender, and left. Thank you. Jamie sighed to herself in disgust and took another sip of her coffee. She knew she was being b****y, but with the pressure of unemployment hanging on her shoulders, she just wanted to be left alone.

Men, she thought. Put a pretty girl near them and they flock like bees. Pretty??? She laughed mockingly at herself upon realizing the irony. Who would have thought? Who would have known what a few years could do?

Jamie Gabrielle Vinci. Only daughter to a French-American mother and a Filipino-Italian father, R.I.P. She was born in America, raised in America, and would most probably die in America. Dark straight hair, brown doe eyes, mocha-colored skin. She was fluent in all the four languages of her lineage, sprinkle in a dash of Spanish and Chinese. She was smart, witty, talented in the arts (even funny, if she hadn’t been in a bad mood lately). A real prize of a girl.

But traits like those didn’t get anybody that far socially, not in grade school and definitely not in high school. Jamie was a short, thin girl in grade school who didn’t look that much of anything, thanks to her different roots. She was shy, a loner, a nobody who no one really noticed. Sometimes, she wished she was one of the more nerdy kids. At least, they got noticed.

That was a wish she later wished she had not made in the first place. As Jamie added on more height and pounds, Jamie started to be noticed in high school, alright — as that nerdy kid who always got the A’s, that social outcast whose looks never seemed to fit in, that weird girl who would rather hang out in the library, play chess, and write on her journal. To top it all, she had somehow gained the tag “Teen-age Mutant Ninja Turtle.” All because she did look like one with her back always humped when she walked, sat, or even ran. She resented being called a mutant, of course, but the turtle-thing, she thought, sure was appropriate. Good thing Jamie realized enough was enough and gradually corrected her Quasimodo posture. Later, she would learn that it was a sign of insecurity.

It was her intelligence that saved her in a way. Jamie got a Harvard scholarship in Creative Writing. It was in college where she found her confidence, sharing and competing with people who somehow had the same wavelength as hers. Sure, there were snobs and hypocrites, too, but what school didn’t have any? The same way as there were nice and friendly people. Jamie even learned to play tennis and enhanced her swimming skills, which changed her physique dramatically. She became the more attractive version of her old self. Not that it was her fondest wish. She never really minded her looks. But she had to admit, it sure had its advantages. What’s more, she was becoming prettier – no, lovelier – her exotic beauty finally falling into place.

Suddenly, she was hot property. Boys, guys, men were quick to notice her (and it was around this time that she also took to using her second name, Gabrielle, which she thought fitted her new-found personality). Hardly a week went by when she did not get any invitation for a date. Sometimes, she dated; many times, she preferred to just plop on her bed and read Shakespeare.

But it was Luke Anthony Carlton III who caught her attention. Charming. good-looking, ultra-rich Luke. He was intelligent in his own way and quite the talented artist. Finally, she found a guy she actually was proud to have! Unfortunately, all those traits were never good indicators of anyone’s real persona. A few months into the relationship, he showed the real side of him: domineering, jealous-type bad boy with an ego the size of the whole of America. He showed no interests in the things she did whatsoever, insulted her once in a while with his tactless words, and neglected her feelings. Until the time it turned out that Luke was much more interested in trying out the time-tested theories of Kama Sutra on her. So she gave him what he deserved. “Kama Sutra this, you jerk!” Jamie shouted right before hitting his groin so hard, he took off and never talked to her again. Luke, with his looks, talents, and financial capabilities, was as big a jerk as most of the men Jamie met.

And she met many. They were guys who were intimidated by her brains while some didn’t seem to use theirs at all. Some guys simply liked her for her beauty, and some liked her beauty too much they thought they could own her. Mostly, they were guys who wanted what Luke wanted. So they never got any.

Jamie was presently fresh out of college. You’d think she had it made being a Harvard graduate and all. But no. She got rejected a lot and had been unemployed for months. She was found somewhat “unfit”, she could tell. There were people who even went as far as to tell it to her face – “Too pretty” or “Overqualified” or “Inexperienced” or “Too young” or “Too liberal” or…Yeah, that was her, an ‘OR’.

“Damn the systems!” Jamie let out and scowled. She looked so miserable, no self-respecting artist would have tried to draw her expression. So much for confidence.

What the – Jamie got the surprise of her life when a pink post-it paper was suddenly stuck with a thud on the window directly in front of her. There was a man who seemed to have just gotten out of bed, unkempt and really rather untidy. Another guy was watching him from a distance. Mr. Pinkoe smiled at her and she didn’t know how to react until he walked away in his own goofy way, pen ready to scrawl on paper.

Copyright © FotoSearch.com

Jamie stared at the little piece of paper and realized there was something written on it. The other guy who was watching went nearer, glanced at her, then at the note. She strained her eyes as well to read the words written in loopy but rather nice penmanship: “Ping Pong goes the stones and bones roll in tones of moans…Jibber Jabber, ho!” Huh?

Jamie burst out laughing the same time as the other guy did, disturbing other people. They stared at the two curiously, but really, ready to run screaming Amuck! should they see any more sign of mental disturbance.

The guy smiled at Jamie and she smiled back before he followed Mr. Pinkoe down the street. Hmnn…Was it her imagination or could he be stalking poor, Pinkoe guy? A stalker looking more harmless than the stalkee? Nah. Oh, but Mr. Stalker did have a cute smile. Would have been nice to have talked and laughed with him if he only stayed for coffee.

Jamie wasn’t scowling anymore. She was now smiling radiantly. Of course, she had no idea what that little “Jibber Jabber” piece meant, yet that made her day somehow. Mr. Pinkoe and Mr. Stalker. What a team.

Jamie finished her coffee now and stared at the newspaper that was on her table. She would like to apply for a writing position there after all. And if Roseville Today would not take her, she would try somewhere else again. And if all else failed, she wouldn’t mind looking for Mr. Pinkoe, himself, and ask for a few pointers about the art of writing (weird but he seemed to know what he was doing), or maybe ask for another one of his pinky notes.

That morning, Jamie Gabrielle Vinci was so happy, she could’ve whistled if she only knew how. So she made up a little song instead with a “Jibber” and a “Jabber” and a “ho!”


Copyright © J.Gi Federizo


For more of Jamie’s ongoing story, visit THE JAMIE TALES page.