The Bagman's Destiny

Chapter 1

•FOUR YEARS LATER•

Per le prime due ore...

It started in the theatre. My mouth was dry from how bad the acting was.  If the wanker who was supposedly the main character had another 'ingenuous' Machiavellian spout, I was out.

Jez was weeping. It wasn't subtle, salty tears casually staining his face... Of course it couldn't have been, knowing my fucking luck he had to be sobbing his heart out. He sounded like he was hyperventilating and it was echoing throughout the whole theatre. It agitated me how red in the face he was and the disgusting trickle of snot dripping out his nose blending with his shameless tears. His brown eyes weren't recognisable no more, completely immersed in the waterworks. It was repulsive. I hated him and I hated the way I didn't hate him at all.

I tried not to focus on the opera or the imbecile who refused to go alone  and I watched the crowd below. There were the usual Controlled Butterflies marauding the aisles that I didn't have to work up a usual sweat over due to my aberrant nature 'cause we were perched on the 'Chrysalis Balcony'. So pretty much the most expensive, exclusive seats and best overlook of the performance. There was complete privacy and it even came with a bell to call for a personal butler to fetch binoculars and drinks if need be. I had never been to the theatre and not been amongst the squalor; even with the money Tara gave me, I enjoyed being part of the crowd. Jez ain't ever been like that though.  He was too good for that. He had too much power being in the Body of the Butterflies, apparently best mates with President Butterfly himself. I had no idea why he followed me around. If he ever found out I used to be David Atlas, I feel he'd have no trouble killing me himself. Nah, scrap that, he'd call for the butler so he wouldn't get his hands dirty.

I smirked at the thought and leaned back in my red-velvet-cushioned seat as if I was some sort of King. Jez noticed my smugness and looked absolutely appalled. I snapped out of it quickly, assuming he was crying for a reason and it was an inappropriate time to be smiling while he was in distress over dumb fictional characters who couldn't hold their pitch; he probably didn't understand the Italian being sung, unfortunately I could.

I withheld a sigh and dug my hands into my pockets.  I couldn't push them in all the way, my fingers ended up punching a packet of Marlboro's I shoved in when I was preparing to go out for the night. I couldn't help regain that lost smile, fingertips brushing over the box as if I could taste it through touch alone.

"I'm out for a ciggy" I declared, already getting up.

"It's not even interval yet?" He sniffled, eyes like an owl's.

"Yeah, I know. I'll be back, love. I promise"

I settled on gently stroking his shoulder to convince him further but he still seemed adamant. I didn't really bother fixing that though, I just started leaving without his permission. I passed the butler after stumbling out of the booth, giving him that weird two-finger-salute when there ain't anything to say. I was so impatient that I already had a cigarette in my mouth as I jogged down the pristine stairs. Butterflies were complete clean-freaks. Everything had to be perfect all of the time. I didn't blame them. I was the same.

My hands were back in my pockets, reaching for a lighter as I finally got to the lobby. The receptionist was giving me filthies from behind her barred off desk and I chuckled to myself. I couldn't remember if cigarettes were illegal for the common-folk, for the Wings or not. My knowledge of the Butterflies was that some items the Body could enjoy that were strictly prohibited to the Wings. I remembered alcohol was definitely off-limits to the average American now but my mind failed me on smokes. Oh well, if I was caught I'd just rope Jez into it.