A Rose to Change a Life

Chapter 22

The deal-making grizzly boar

Devin and I ended up at a tiny cafe, named ‚Betty's Diner', sitting in a secluded booth in the back. Out of sight of prying eyes, with a clear view out the front windows and the entrance door. Betty's Diner was outfitted with typical 50's red leather booths, dark oak table,s and high glass windows. In the middle of the room, there was the bar, raised on a slight platform with six bar stools on each side and the barkeeper's shelf right behind it. Aside from being a cafe/diner, it was a bar too. The kitchen was somewhere at the far back of the room, close to our booth actually, but the food being served from the kitchen smelled divine and nothing close to the diners one is used to. No grease-filled air or stale cigarette smoke. Even the waitresses, dressed in white-and-red-striped-petticoats were friendly, asking us whether we needed anything besides our coffees, which we declined for now. After our order came, both of us sat there, sipping our coffee while drawing circles on the table.

"So." I drew the word out. I was wondering whether I should say it or not, I mean, my thought would certainly help us in our case, but I did not want to make us moody again.

"So?" I got the answer. Fine, just do it. "I have an idea." I said. A raised eyebrow greeted my saying. "You do?"

"Don't act all surprised. I have an idea where they are, I cannot remember the right address, but I know someone who does and I think I should call him."

"Whom would that be, Elva?" His soothing voice sparked with excitement for having a lead.

"My father." Devin nodded, signaling me to go ahead. Sure, I was risking exposure with this call as my father did not know about the returning of my kidnapper and if he knew, he would turn crazy in search of this lunatic, so I had to play the hand I was dealt with, well. I obviously could not call him, as he'd know something was wrong immediately, which left the only opportunity of letting Devin call, acting as a newspaper journalist. Hurray, fooling my father. Perhaps the information would have been findable in the web too, but there was no Kean to ask around and no time to sit in front of a display all day, either. Which left this.

"Dev, my father would immediately know something was wrong when I'd call him, could you please act like a journalist or a young boy writing an article on said man because your school ordered you to do so?"

A look of displeasure crossed his mind, but was followed by a look which simply stated, ‚what-I-was-not-doing-for-my-brother'. We finished our coffee, walking to the pay phone to the left of the cafe. After we dropped in the coins, we listened for my father's voice, "Hello?"

How could i best describe my father? I think the most suitable image was a bear, sometimes a teddy bear and sometimes a grizzly. He had the calmness of a steady stream, but if something was disturbing him, he would transform from the calm bear to the angry-cussing grizzly. He'd never hurt anybody on purpose, it was not his style, but guess where I got my bluntness from. Yup. Him.

"Mr. Maypole. I'm so glad to have reached you, I was wondering if I could ask you a question. I'm writing on an article of–" Devin's school kid voice, which sounded way too hilarious in my own ears, was cut off by my father.