Liam Jones
Even though Killian hated social interaction now, I knew that forcing him out to get an ad in the paper would be good for him, for just as his previous psychologist had said, he needs to be around people more to help him get over his past experiences and disability. To be honest though I wasn't lying about him having to go there in person to go put an ad in the paper; there wasn't any website for them that had anything other than the address on the site.
We had both been surprised at how much was actually salvageable within the restaurant already, which did wonders for our savings, as it meant we would be able to look into local suppliers sooner than we had anticipated. But it also meant that I could look into the police department within Storybrooke, or the "Sheriff department" as it was called here. I had already arranged a meeting for me to see Sheriff Swan and discuss some…. safety measures which I wanted to have in place so that there would not be a repeat of New York again.
I would already be there if it weren't for the fact that "The Sheriff was currently out doing some business around town and wouldn't be back until two" as her deputy had so wonderfully put it, before hanging up on me. Seeing as I now had a couple of hours to pass, I decided that I should contact my prop and set design friends from New York to see how much they would be able to supply for the restaurant (which was quite a lot: the rope and anchors for the columns, the drift wood effect bar top and shelving unit) before getting in contact with a local carpenter who (was the best carpenter within a 30 mile radius according to the reviews online) would make the tables and chairs that we were wanting, as neither Killian or I ever liked have precisely matching furniture. He said he would come to the restaurant to come and talk to us about on tuesday; giving us two days to make the walls and floors look presentable. By the time I had wrapped up on the phone it was nearly two, meaning I could finally head over to the Sheriff station and talk about certain aspects for the restaurant.
The station itself was right in the centre of Main Street, with only two police cruisers and two spaces in front of the station. From travelling so much around I was used to seeing a police station with at least five cars, and officers milling about on their breaks. The glass doors showed an empty reception, and walking in, I could see that this was evidently a place that wasn't used very much.
"You must be the guy who called earlier" A man called from the stairs. I hadn't even seen him there, and seeing him in profile made me notice the badge he wore on his belt. "Deputy Nolan" The sandy haired man said "And who might you be?"
"Liam Jones, Mr Nolan. My brother and I are opening up a restaurant in the harbour, however I need to talk to the sheriff about a certain bit of extra security" I spoke to leave no argument, and despite his confusion the deputy took me upstairs to the office where the Sheriff was.
She was somewhere around 30 years old, with long blonde hair which cascaded down her back and shoulders. Once her deputy gained her attention, I saw her green eyes focus onto me, with a glare which felt like it was going through my soul itself, trying to learn my secrets.
"Sheriff Swan, Mr Jones." She introduced herself, waving for me to sit down on the other side if the desk from her. "David tells me that you want to talk about extra security for your restaurant but I have to tell you that.."
"That I should take this to my insurance and security companies however they don't usually have to deal with suicide bombers trying to blow up their clients businesses"
"What!?"
"My brother and I had come to America trying to open our own restaurants… however about a year after we open a man with a bomb strapped to his chest comes into our restaurant and… blew himself up. Right next to my brother… He was lucky to survive… let alone walk away with only an amputation. He wasn't the first either, for five months later in that same restaurant it nearly happens again, however a police officer was on hand and stopped the bomb from detonating. So I guess now you can see why I would like some extra security for us." Both the Sheriff and Deputy were shocked from my story, but she quickly started nodding, looking across her desk for something.
"I may not be able to have an officer there, as there is literally only my brother and I here on the station, but I can have someone we know and trust in your restaurant.. Perhaps you could pretend to hire him and then he will always be there on hand in case of emergency?"
"That sounds like a plan Mrs Swan"
"It's Sheriff to you. Good day Mr Jones."
By the time I had returned to the restaurant it was now three O'clock in the afternoon; meaning Killian had been out for over three hours and still not returned, sparking worry and fear in my chest from the last time that I hadn't known where he was and that certainly not something which I wished never to repeat. I was about to run out to go and find him in the truck when he came back through the door, safe if not a little bit cold.
"Where the hell have you been Killian! I was worried about you!"
"I was waiting for you to come back as after I had finally found the Newspaper I went into a diner to get some tea and warm myself up. The old lady who ran it got talking to me, and I may have found someone who can make the plates and bowls and such on batch for us"
"That's great I guess… but why didn't you just come back here?"
"You haven't gotten a second key made yet you idiot! I was locked out!" Well that would make sense; and my stupid brain had elected to ignore the fact that his absence was due to the fact only I had a set of keys to the flat or restaurant at the moment.
"Well to prevent that from happening again I should go out and get them copied. Did you see if the hardware store had a key cutter in it?"
"Oh, Yeah.. Few stores down from the diner, it has a key cutting sign outside of it, you can't miss it" My brother had evidently been trying to remember where exactly he had seen the sign, as he was making wild hand gestures which to him and I would make sense but to others would make no sense at all.
I left him in the flat with a couple beers and his sketchbook whilst I went to go and get the keys cut, knowing that he would still be there when I returned.
Killian Jones
Liam was seemingly forgetting what subtlety was when he forced me out of the door. I knew that my old psychologist had believed that it was necessary that I get "lots of human interaction along with his animal therapy". Of course that didn't exactly help me standing out here on the street in front of the restaurant. I knew that if I turned right I would be headed towards Main Street, and apparently Riverdell drive where the Newspaper building was situated somewhere off of that.
Walking along the sidewalk in the Autumn breeze was cooling to say the least, going through my clothes and seemingly burying itself deep within my bones, making me feel the shivers as more than skin deep. Looking at the path, I watched it turn from grey to orange and brown as leaves covered the path, most of which looked to have come from the garden area of the diner called "Granny's". I made a mental note to go there on my way back to get a tea and warm myself up a little before braving the wind again on the way back to the flat. As I continued walking along the path to where the GPS on my phone though Riverdell drive was, I was reminded of a time gone by, when there was a second set of boots next to mine as we walked through the leaves, her laugh airless and carefree, creating clouds with her breath. I was only broken from my reverie when I realised that I had wandered upon a turn off from Main Street which didn't have a large road on it, and on closer inspection, I saw that it was indeed Riverdell drive.
The drive was lined with trees, their leaves in shades of gold and brown, swirling through the wind and dancing towards the floor where they meet the cold curb, trying to pick themselves up, back into the sky from where they came instead of being stuck on the ground as I was. I sometimes envied the birds and the leaves as they flew through the air, for the freedom that only they would know, of their feathers being ruffled in the wind as they flew, as it lifted them high into the sky to sights unknown and different currents. But I knew that even when I had two hands, I would never know that freedom of flight.
The path finally dwindled towards an old looking building, which had the sign "Storybrooke Mirror" on the wall in faded scripts of green and gold, a standing contrast to the dark red brick of the building. The wooden door creaked open at my touch, it's dark green having seen better days, whilst the handle shone a bright gold against it.
The reception consisted of a rounded desk which went from wall to wall, closed around the receptionist who was organising various papers on the desk when I walked in. The walls were a gentle cream colour, and covered in old posters for events and fairs which had all been and gone, giving the feeling that this room was somehow stuck within time, constantly reliving the happier, busier days gone by. As I walked over to the receptionist, I tried to see if I could spot a form for which I could fill in so that I could place an advert for a local artist of if someone had an unwanted statue in peace and avoid having to talk, but unfortunately the receptionist had been watching me since I had walked in the door, waiting for me to come over.
"Hello and welcome to the Storybrooke Mirror, how can I help you sir?" She called happily over the counter, more or less forcing me to actually talk to her and engage in verbal interaction.
"Yes, I would like to put an advert in the paper please"
"How many days for sir?" her calling me sir was more irritating than I could ever have guessed and now I seriously wanted to put duct tape on her mouth to quieten her.
"It's Mr Jones. And a week please." the receptionist promptly handed over the form which she had been filling in, telling me where to write my advert and where to sign it. In the end it had costed me $17.50 just to place the ad in the paper; although I was happy with what I had written;
WANTED/ LOOKING FOR
Looking for local artists and unwanted sculptures.
We are wanting a sculpture to go into our new restaurant and are requiring a centrepiece.
If you are an artist or have a sculpture you would be willing to sell please call this number
L. Jones: xxxxxxxxxxx
I was dreading the walk back into town, for whilst I had been indoors not only had I warmed up, but the wind had gotten stronger, meaning that it had taken even less time for me to feel the cold again. At least the wind was pushing me towards town this time rather than against my movements.
After about an hour I finally got back to the diner that I had seen earlier, and promptly went inside to get out of the wind. It was in every part the stereotypical American diner, complete with the red benches and checked linings everywhere. I walked towards the bar, pulling out a stool and motioning with my good hand for a waitress to come and serve me some tea.
I must have been sitting there for a good 20 minutes when an older lady came over to my table with inquisitive eyes and a smirk on her face
"You new to town young man?" She said in way that almost sounded like she was barking
"Yeah, my brother and I just moved here"
"Huh.." she said quietly, tilting her head back slightly, as if she was trying to figure out a puzzle instead of a man
"There something wrong with that" I asked challengingly and I immediately saw her face turn into something more amused than puzzled
"Nothin' wrong with that at all. Just thinkin' you would'a made a hell of a waiter" I could feel the blood drain from my face, because even though I knew it was a compliment, it felt just like another reminder of everything that had happened. I knew that only then had she seen my hand, laying on the countertop, and even though it had a glove on it, it's stillness gave away that it was a fake.
"Maybe I was once" I relied sadly, trying to get the old woman off of me, but regrettably that didn't work.
"So you and your brother, what you planning on doing here?"
"We're opening a restaurant on the harbour side. Mostly seafood and italian, but there will be other options too, although I could use a little local knowledge"
"What do you want." I could tell that she was going to be awkward about the whole thing now that she knew my brother and I were planning to open a restaurant which could rival her own.
"My brother and I prefer to have handmade items in our restaurants, so that locally made tables, chairs, plates and bowls and such. I know my brother was going to call a carpenter today but I wondered if you knew of any local potters perhaps?"
"Well there might be a few, although I only know of one who may be mad enough to consider doing this for you. His name's Cyrus, and he's the one you'll want to get in contact with."
"If I left my number here could you pass it on to him for me please?" The old woman never replied, but she still took the number from me and pinned it onto the board behind the counter for me. I looked down at my watch only to discover that I had nearly been away three hours from the restaurant. Liam had to have gotten back from wherever he was by now, and I wouldn't have to risk being locked out.
I arrived just in the knick of time, for Liam thought that something may have happened to me for me to be out so long, although once I explained that I would have been locked out had I come back any earlier the tension seeped out of his skin like the beads of sweat on his forehead from the worry I had no doubt caused. I finally let the shivers of cold take shape, and Liam let me get a shower whilst he checked what food we had in, for even though he had only gone shopping last night, he wasn't sure what to make of the items we had purchased.
As soon as I was in my sweats he handed me a beer and I took it towards the lounge area where I had left my notepad the night before. It was an old book, and every page had at least one drawing on each side, and for most there were multiple little sketches filling the page. Most of the time they were animals, occasionally landscapes, and even occasionally people. Maybe I would find something new to draw. Perhaps this small town could give me some more inspiration.