New York: Chapter One - A City Of Blue And Grey
Hey guys, sorry I know I've published this before but I've rectified a few things and changed the layout a little. I'm gonna recommend you listen to some gentle lounge jazz while reading this again because I think it adds texture and depth to it (there's loads on spotify), just a suggestion!
Hope you enjoy it, the next chapter will be coming soon!
11:53 PM 16th November 1978
I unfurled the paper that was nestled tightly under my arm as I walked over to the window seat in the caf, the light rain licked the window as I stared through out into the busy street, it was dark outside, my favourite time. It was moments like this that I found couldn’t be described, there was a certain feeling about gentle jazz washing over you at night time, sitting and thinking with the piano engulfing your mind, happiness wasn’t the word though, more peaceful.
I looked down at the dog-eared and damp paper I’d been carrying all the way down the road, The New York Yeller, 16th November, 1978.
I closed my eyes as I felt the bitter scent of coffee engage my senses, I hear the waitress place it down in front of me and scuttle off without pause, I lean forward and take a face full, the perfect blend.
I raised the mug and took a sip savouring the aromatic flavours I’d grown to rely on for kicks ever since I’d moved to the city. It was one of the few things I could truly appreciate, that and a real good bourbon. I was almost out of the good stuff I’d picked up a few months back, real edge to it.
I flicked open the newspaper and went straight to the seventh page in, there was a half-page article with a small picture to accompany it, the title read “LUXURY CASINO OPENS AFTER 10 YEAR ABANDONMENT”, I scanned the page for the author.
“Bradley Harvard” it read. My name. The definitive nature of the print always took me by surprise whenever I read my own name, impossible to be erased. I sunk another mouthful of coffee as I started to sift through the article I had so meticulously composed.
I’d always been told I had a way with words, but to me I can’t see how anyone could be any different, words simply seem to follow each other like the keys of a piano, each sounding sweeter than the last.
However, this article was different to the others I’d written, ever since Benny dropped the hint that the casino story might just be enough to prove to him that I was committed enough to do more than just Mickey Mouse stories, so naturally I’d put just about everything I had into this one.
I’d only been following the story for around two days at the most and so far nothing interesting had been churned up other than the fact that some chump had bought out the whole El Dorado casino, closed for just gone ten years and in some desperate need of some tender love and care. Not only that but he planned to pour a whole load of cash into it and hope to be spitting chips by early next year. Now how’d a guy nobody's ever heard of plan to do that? That was exactly the thing, but it don’t look like he’s done nothing wrong to anybody so it looks like all we can do is watch and see how the story unfolds for now.
Ask me though and something ain’t right, Benny’s asked me to focus coverage on this for now and who was I to complain? Racking back some coffees and going to press meets ain’t the worst way to be spending your Thursdays.
I finished my coffee and pulled myself up from my slump on the bench, grabbed the paper and headed for the door, nodding to the waitress as I reach for the handle.
New York flooded around me as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, the familiar presence of its ways felt as permanent as a shadow these days. I looked upwards at the specks of light bursting from cracks between curtains and open windows, the stars of New York. Tearing myself away from the urge to stay I started to walk down the street to my apartment.
It wasn’t any different from any other night, same streets, same colours, only difference was I actually had to get outta bed and down to that press conference, turns out Mr “I’ve got more cash than brains” has an announcement to make.
I’ve done stories like this plenty of times; more than I’d of liked but the lack of detail on this was unusual.
So as the streetlights shone blossoms of light onto the cold blue pavement, thoughts of uncertainty crept into my mind, why was this guy in such a rush to have this casino? And where did the money come from to fund such a huge project?
One thing was for certain, someone was gambling with a lot more than chips on this one.
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IMAGE: Manhattan Living by Stuck In Customs
