(*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!!! )
JAMIE GABRIELLE VINCI
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.
“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.
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.