I Don't Know Where Jamie Is Now, Part 1

"Before even starting," it was said, with much rubbing of hands and an infrequent tremor to the head, "I want to apologize for the way--" and the publican was instructed almost callously by a shivering finger that strobed among the amber of the fireplace to pour another "--that our conversation will sort of be, well," and now turning and looking outward, with those horrible large black eyes, "just kind of talking heads."

Sam, who was wearing a brown calfskin jacket and a tan cowboy hat, immediately placed his whiskey upon the table with a few sips to spare and turned to acknowledge that now, words had indeed been spoken. He had been waiting, he knew it was going to happen, and it happened, and those words had come out. And now he indicated that they were being listened to. Sam had kind of, stubble, and appeared as though he may be a smoker. One may have easily mistaken him for the sheriff of the village, had this place not been a small, well kept secret in the Village, in Manhattan.

"I," this was very nervous, "I really don't know where Jamie is now."

"Oh. Jamie, huh? That's what you're calling her?"

"Jamie," with a nod, "but a guy, not a girl."

"Oh Jamie, that guy. Yeah. Yeah, he's missing?"

"Pretty sure I have an address for his exact location physically. I know he's probably in his apartment, probably surfing the Web, or probably watching TV shows or something on his computer."

"Something, yeah. That's where people tend to be, on Saturday afternoons in this city. It's not like he may lost somewhere in some museum or gallivanting away in Central Park."

"There are those," and another indication for another drink, "but no. I know he's at home." Turned again, those horrible large eyes upon Sam again. "But you see, I don't know what he must be thinking! His mental state of being. His outlook on life."

"It troubles you, doesn't it?" said Sam, lowering the brim of his hat over his eyes and entertaining the idea of one of his remaining sips. "There's something--something has happened in Jamie's life to the point of leaving you extremely concerned about the affairs of this other person's--Jamie's--life."

"Two things, to be accurate."