CHAPTER TWO- THE UNEXPECTED
Wednesday 10th January, 2018- NEW SALEM, STATE OF WILLOW, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
As The Artist pushed open the heavy wooden door of JayJayâs Jazz Bar, Pub & Grill, a wave of warmth and lively chatter enveloped them. The dimly lit space exuded an inviting atmosphere, with the smooth melodies of jazz music filling the air. Patrons were seated at the bar, engaged in animated conversations, while others gathered around small tables, sipping on their drinks and tapping their feet to the rhythm. The Artist's anticipation grew, knowing that they were about to meet Dan Russell, the owner who had given them a chance to prove themselves.
With each step they took into the establishment, heads turned and curious glances were cast their way. The Artist felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement, but they walked with confidence, embracing the attention as they made their way towards the bar counter. The bustling energy of the place energized The Artist, fueling their determination to succeed.
As The Artist approached the bar, they spotted Sarah, the friendly bartender who had guided our young artisan earlier. She greeted The Artist with a smile. âYou made quite an impression on Dan. He's eager to meet youâ, Sarah said with her eyes twinkling with curiosity. The Artist returned the smile. âThank you, Sarah. Iâm ready to meet him and show him what I'm capable ofâ, The Artist replied.
Sarah led The Artist through the crowded bar, skillfully maneuvering between patrons, until they reached the back office. Sarah knocked on the door and then opened it, inviting The Artist inside. Seated behind the cluttered desk, Dan Russell looked up from his paperwork, his eyes meeting The Artistâs gaze. He studied The Artist for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and scrutiny. The room, adorned with jazz memorabilia and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, reflected the personality of its owner. Dan gestured for The Artist to take a seat, his eyes still fixed on them. âSo, youâre the one who thinks bartending is an art formâ, Dan said in a tone carrying hints of skepticism. The Artist nodded confidently. âIndeed, Mr. Russell. Bartending is not just about pouring drinks, itâs about crafting experiences, evoking emotions and creating moments of connection. Itâs an art that blends flavors, music and Human interactionâ, The Artist replied.
Dan leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving The Artist. âYou have quite a way with words, but can you deliver behind the bar? Talk is cheap, actions speak louderâ, Dan replied sternly. The Artist met Danâs gaze with a determined look. âActions are precisely what I'm here to demonstrate. I may not have the conventional experience, but I possess a deep understanding of flavors, a keen eye for detail, and an unwavering dedication to my craft. Iâm confident that I can bring a unique artistic touch to the drinks served at JayJayâsâ, The Artist replied. Dan's skeptical expression softened slightly, his eyes reflecting a spark of curiosity. âYou certainly have an unwavering belief in your abilities. But let's not waste any more time. Show me what you've gotâ, Dan replied.
A mixture of excitement and nerves coursed through The Artistâs veins as they prepared to showcase their skills. They took a deep breath, their hands steady as they reached for the array of bottles, shakers and garnishes behind the bar. With each movement, The Artist displayed a fluidity and grace that seemed to match the rhythm of the jazz music playing in the background. They combined flavors with precision, layering them in a way that delighted the senses. The Artistâs attention to detail was evident in every garnish, every carefully crafted cocktail that left their hands. As The Artist handed Dan a beautifully presented cocktail, a moment of silence filled the room. Dan took a sip, his eyes widening in surprise. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
âYouâve got skills, Iâll give you thatâ, Dan said in a tone filled with genuine admiration. âThat drink is a work of art. I didnât expect to be impressed, but you've proven me wrongâ, Dan replied as he savored the cocktail.
The Artist's face beamed with satisfaction, their hard work and determination paying off. âThank you, Mr. Russell. I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to contribute my artistic touch to JayJay's and its patronsâ, The Artist replied cheerfully. Dan leaned forward, extending a hand towards The Artist. âWelcome to the team. I have a feeling youâre going to make a significant impact hereâ, Dan replied.
As The Artist shook Danâs hand, a sense of accomplishment and excitement washed over them. They had successfully impressed the skeptical owner with their skills and artistic approach to bartending. This was just the beginning of their journey at JayJayâs, a place where The Artist could bring their unique perspective and create a fusion of art, music and flavors. Filled with anticipation, The Artist couldnât wait to dive into their new role, continuing to weave their artistic magick behind the bar of JayJayâs Jazz Bar, Pub & Grill in the heart of New Salem.
(12:30 PM)
Back at Apartment D6âs living room, The Artist had been so overwhelmed by the prospect of becoming a bartender at JayJayâs that they felt it was title worthy of celebration. Their mind buzzed with excitement as they imagined the creative concoctions they would craft, the conversations they would engage in and the vibrant atmosphere they would contribute to. Eager to share their good news and to find out where their parents were, The Artist decided to reach out to some of Dadâs âBuddiesâ who might have information.
First on their list was Daisy Bruce-Miller, the owner of The Candyman's Palace. The Artist admired Daisyâs sunny disposition and thought she might have some insights. They dialed her number and listened to the ringing on the other end, their anticipation growing with each passing second. But to their surprise, the call went straight to voicemail. Perplexed, The Artist left a message, hoping that Daisy would return their call soon.
Next, The Artist decided to give Carl Webster a try. He was Dadâs friend who always had some sort of âEmergency Meetingsâ to attend. The Artist had always found his excuses dubious, but desperate times called for desperate measures. They dialed Carlâs number, the ringing once again filling the silence. After what felt like an eternity, Carl finally answered.
âHello? Whoâs this?â, Carl answered in a rushed and distracted tone. âItâs James and Samanthaâs child. I was wondering if youâve heard from them. Iâve just returned to New Salem from Richmond and theyâre nowhere to be foundâ, The Artist explained, trying to hide their concern. There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh. âLook, kid, I wish I could help you, but I havenât seen James or Samantha in weeks. They've been pretty elusive lately, canceling plans and dodging callsâ, Carl replied. The Artistâs heart sank at Carlâs words. Weeks? Dodging calls? Something was definitely not right. âDo you have any idea where they might be or why theyâre avoiding contact?â, The Artist pressed, their voice tinged with worry. âI wish I did, kid. They didnât mention anything to me. All I know is that theyâve been acting strange lately. Maybe they just needed some time away. But Iâll tell you, itâs not like them to disappear without a wordâ, Carl replied in a voice filled with genuine concern.
The Artist thanked Carl for his honesty and hung up the phone, their mind swirling with questions and a growing sense of unease. Where could their parents be? Why were they avoiding contact? The uncertainty gnawed at them, casting a shadow over their celebration. Determined to find answers and perhaps distract themselves from their worries, The Artist decided to head back to JayJayâs. Stepping out onto the streets of New Salem once again, they felt a mix of anticipation and unease. The city, with its familiar sights and sounds, now seemed tinged with a hint of mystery. As The Artist walked towards JayJayâs, their mind was preoccupied with thoughts of their parents and the enigmatic circumstances surrounding their disappearance. They couldnât help but wonder if their new position as a bartender at the jazz bar would provide any clues or connections that could shed light on the situation.
Entering JayJayâs, The Artist was greeted by the lively atmosphere and the comforting sounds of jazz music. The familiar sights and smells offered a temporary reprieve from their worries. They approached the bar, where Sarah, the friendly bartender, flashed them a warm smile. âCongratulations again on getting the job! What can I get you to celebrate?â, Sarah asked with eyes reflecting genuine happiness. The Artist mustered a smile, grateful for Sarahâs kind words. âHow about a special cocktail? Surprise meâ, The Artist replied, hoping that the flavors and creativity of the drink would temporarily whisk their worries away. As The Artist waited for their celebratory drink, they couldnât help but feel a sense of longing for their parentsâ presence. The unanswered questions lingered in their mind, urging them to uncover the truth behind their sudden disappearance. But for now, they had to focus on their new role at JayJayâs and the vibrant energy that surrounded them.
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Taking a sip of the expertly crafted cocktail, The Artist allowed themselves to be momentarily transported by the flavors and the ambiance of the bar. They hoped that in time, the mysteries surrounding their parents would unravel, and they would find the answers they sought. But for now, they would embrace their new artistic journey, ready to immerse themselves in the world of mixology, music and the camaraderie of JayJayâs. And so, The Artist raised their glass, toasting to new beginnings and the pursuit of their artistic passions, while silently hoping that their parents would soon reappear, bringing with them the reassurance and comfort that only family could provide.
Wednesday 17th January, 2018- NEW SALEM, STATE OF WILLOW, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A week had passed since the disappearance of James and Samantha, and the worry that gnawed at The Artistâs heart had only intensified. Determined to find answers, they found themselves sitting in a small room at the New Salem Police Department, surrounded by Police Officers Sgt. Eddie Constantine, Dep. Lewis Evergreen and Detective Minnesota.
The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with anticipation. The Artist recounted the events to the officers, their words filled with concern and urgency. They mentioned the strange behavior of their parents in the weeks leading up to their disappearance, how they had become elusive, canceling plans with key witnesses such as Daisy, Carl and Steven Weinstein, Dadâs other âBuddyâ who often disappeared at night. The Artist emphasized that it was out of character for James and Samantha to be so evasive and secretive.
âI last heard from them eight weeks ago when we discussed the possibility of moving back to New Salemâ, The Artist explained in a voice tinged with worry, âAnd then, two days before I reached New Salem in the VBMC Moving Van, they called me. They sounded distant, but they assured me that everything was fineâ. Sgt. Eddie Constantine leaned forward, his eyes filled with concern. âWeâve spoken to Daisy, Carl and Steven, and they all confirmed that James and Samantha have been missing for weeksâ, Eddie said, âThey mentioned that your parents have been elusive, canceling plans and avoiding contactâ. Detective Minnesota furrowed their brow, deep in thought. âItâs definitely a cause for concern. We will launch a thorough investigation into their disappearanceâ, they said with determination. âWeâll start by examining their phone records, financial transactions and reaching out to their acquaintances. Weâll leave no stone unturnedâ. Dep. Lewis Evergreen nodded in agreement. âWe understand how distressing this must be for you, and we assure you that we will do everything in our power to find James and Samanthaâ, Lewis said with deep empathy.
The Artist felt a glimmer of hope in their heart as the officers promised to pursue further investigations. They thanked the officers for their dedication and willingness to help, hoping that their efforts would soon lead to answers. Leaving the police department, The Artist felt a sense of unease as they walked the dimly lit streets of New Salem. Lost in their thoughts, they were suddenly approached by Detective Minnesota, whose mysterious presence seemed to match the enigmatic nature of their conversation.
Detective Minnesota, clad in an elegant beige cotton trench coat, an inner white long-sleeved shirt, black tie, black formal trousers, a brown fedora hat with a black strip and formal black shoes, exuded an air of intrigue. The Artist couldn't help but be captivated by their unique appearance. As Detective Minnesota approached, their eyes locked with The Artist's, and a knowing smile played on their lips.
âAh, so we meet againâ, The Detective said with a low and melodic tone, âYour parentsâ disappearance troubles you, doesnât it?â. The Artist couldn't shake off the worry that clung to them. They walked the familiar streets of New Salem, their mind filled with thoughts of their parents and the mystery surrounding their disappearance. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy upon them, but they held onto a flicker of hope that the investigation would shed light on the truth.
âYes it does. But Iâm confident the investigation will do goodâ, The Artist replied in doubt. âYour lyingâ, Detective Minnesota said, âIn all my ninetâ¦nineteen years of experience. I think people should realize that lying to a detective is foolish. But I also realize that sometimes people lie out of fear, desperation or to protect themselves or others. Itâs a natural Human instinct, and itâs part of my job as a detective to decipher the truth from the lies. Plus I always find it funny that people give off these little hints that their lying. Whether it be a smile, a giggle, a glance away, or a little quiver in the voice like youâ.
The Artist couldnât help but shy away. âSee. Doing it againâ, Detective Minnesota said. âItsâ¦Itsâ¦just that I donât know what to doâ, The Artist said prudently, âIâm hopeful theyâll turn up alright or this is just a big misunderstanding and theyâll call soon. Detective how many missing have you foundâ. âListenâ, Detective Minnesota said while gesturing to a bench, âI understand your concern, but it's important to remain calm and focused during these situations. As a detective, Iâve dealt with numerous missing person cases, and each one is unique. Some turn out well, with the missing individuals returning home safe and sound, while others can be more complicatedâ.
The Artist nodded, their expression filled with anxiety. âI know itâs difficult, but try to trust in the investigative process. We have a team of dedicated professionals working tirelessly to locate missing persons and bring them back to their loved ones. Our success rate is quite high, and we use various methods and resources to aid in our searchâ, Detective Minnesota replied.
Detective Minnesota paused for a moment, reflecting on the question. âYou know, in the world of investigations, we often find ourselves facing mysteries that go beyond the realm of logic and reasonâ, Detective Minnesota began, âItâs like staring at a blank canvas, wondering what lies beneath the surface, waiting to be revealedâ. The Artistâs eyes widened with curiosity. âAre you suggesting that there might be something more to this situation?â, The Artist asked. Detective Minnesota nodded. âIndeed, sometimes the brushstrokes of life are imbued with a touch of magick, a subtle interplay of forces we cannot fully comprehend. Just as an artist breathes life into their creation, there are unseen hands at work in the tapestry of our worldâ, Detective Minnesota replied.
âYou took Occult Sciences. So you should know what Iâm talking aboutâ, Detective Minnesota continued. âI guess your rightâ, The Artist pressed, âBut what does that have to do with my parentsâ. âI donât know. I have my ways of knowing thingsâ, Detective Minnesota said cryptically. Curiosity beamed within The Artist. âBut who are you really?â, The Artist asked, hoping to learn more about this enigmatic figure. A sly smile crossed Detective Minnesotaâs face. âMinnesota is not my real name, merely an aliasâ, Detective Minnesota replied, âThink of it as a play on words, short for The Minnesota Detectiveâ.
âWow. How charming?â, The Artist sarcastically replied, âCan you at least tell me your real name?â. Detective Minnesotaâs smile faded slightly, feeling defeated by their audienceâs weak response. âIâm afraid I canât provide you with a real nameâ, Detective Minnesota said with a tone laced with secrecy, âYou see, I am part of a private-eye company that works closely with the police, especially during times of a State Lockdown. Our protocols dictate that we operate under aliases for the safety and confidentiality of our clientsâ. As Detective Minnesota spoke, they reached into their trench coat pocket and pulled out a small card. They handed it to The Artist, who read the elegant script that adorned it. The card bore the detectiveâs contact information, along with the words âThe Minnesota Detectiveâ.
âI may not be able to give you my real name, but you can reach me through thisâ, Detective Minnesota said. With those final words, Detective Minnesota turned and disappeared into the night, leaving The Artist sitting there, their mind buzzing with possibilities. As they glanced at the card in their hand, The Artist couldnât help but feel a sense of intrigue and anticipation.
Wednesday 14th February, 2018- NEW SALEM, STATE OF WILLOW, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Days turned into nights, and the investigation progressed slowly. The Artist kept a close eye on any developments, their mind constantly spinning with questions. Each passing day only intensified their desire to find their parents and unravel the enigma that had consumed their lives.
In the midst of the search, The Artist found solace in their work at JayJayâs Jazz Bar, Pub & Grill. The creative artistry of mixology provided a temporary escape from their worries. The Artist poured their passion and creativity into crafting unique cocktails, savoring the moments of joy and connection they found behind the bar. As the investigation continued, The Artist couldnât help but feel a sense of gratitude toward Sgt. Eddie Constantine, Dep. Lewis Evergreen and Detective Minnesota. The Artist was comforted by the fact that they were people diligently searching for answers, leaving no stone unturned. The Artist held onto the hope that their relentless efforts would lead them to the truth and reunite them with their parents.
In the midst of their work at JayJayâs, The Artist often caught themselves glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until their next shift ended. They eagerly awaited updates from the investigation team, hoping for a breakthrough that would shed light on the mysterious circumstances surrounding their parentsâ disappearance. The Artist's interactions with patrons at the bar provided a valuable distraction from the weight of their worries. They listened to stories, shared laughter and absorbed the vibrant energy of the jazz-filled atmosphere. Each interaction reminded The Artist of the importance of Human connection and the power of community.
Yet, beneath the surface, a storm of emotions raged within The Artist. While their outward demeanor remained composed, the constant uncertainty gnawed at their spirit. They longed for the day when their parents would walk through the doors of JayJayâs, filling the room with their presence and dispelling the shadows that had cast a pall over their lives. But until that day arrived, The Artist continued to pour their heart into their craft, channeling their emotions into each carefully crafted cocktail. They were determined to make the most of their time at JayJayâs, finding solace in the artistry of mixology and the connections forged with those who walked through the door.