WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 3
AN: Thank you for all the kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this next installment as much!
The owner's legal name wasn't Stu any more than Walter's was Rumpelstiltskin.
It was much more likely the native Chamorron borrowed a moniker he thought sounded American when he opened his enterprise. On the surface the man was good natured and jolly, friendly and open. But the genius knew from observation and exhaustive research, beneath the jovial veneer lurked a shrewd opportunist who hid himself quite cleverly during the Japanese occupation of the island. When the US reclaimed the territory and the army base was again being utilized by the allied forces, 'Stu' renamed himself and declared several abandoned properties as his own. One of the properties was a crumbling cinder block building near the base. He'd turned it into a bar and grill and claimed to serve 'All American Fare'. He knew the menu would pull the homesick soldiers and sailors in and they wouldn't ask too many questions about the source of meat, butter, eggs or other items on the menu which were being rationed nearly everywhere else in the world. The Army happily turned a blind eye to any contraband supplies or smuggling violations while Stu happily stuffed his pockets with All American Dollars.
Walter told himself he'd done all the investigating because it gave him something to do while the war slowly ground to a halt and until the army decided it was time to ship him home. A part of him also recognized he wanted to make sure the guy was a decent employer, but what he couldn't begin to logically explain was exactly why he cared so much. Ever since Toby mentioned where Paige worked, concerns for her working environment were present in way too many of Walter's thoughts, both waking and sleeping.
Slowly swirling the one rapidly melting ice cube in his flat, syrupy soda, Walter watched in fascination from a corner booth while Paige hefted trays loaded with mystery meat burgers and fries, weaving between tables and dodging grabby hands. The dive was full to nearly bursting that day. The atmosphere was steamy and still and the air was heavy with the smell of beer and old grease. Blue-grey cigarette smoke shrouded the bare light bulbs that dangled from a thick cord near the ceiling.
Even though the wisps of hair coming out of her pony tail were damp with sweat and clinging to her neck in little whorls, Paige didn't seem the least bit annoyed by her surroundings, the heat or the hard work. She took the time to give each customer a bright smile and a kind word as she doled out heaping plates of unquestionably bootleg food.
He purposely chose not to sit in her section, because he still couldn't bring himself to admit why he'd come. Of course he acknowledged she was beautiful, but he'd seen attractive women before. His preoccupation with this one made him curious. He had the foolish notion if he could watch her from his far corner vantage he might be able to determine the reason for his infatuation before deciding whether to approach her or not.
Most humans didn't like him. It was odd, but he had a hunch she might be different. Deep down, he hoped she might be different.
Paige was so busy they hadn't even made eye contact yet and he was coming to the end of his midday break. Walter glanced at his watch and pushed the plate containing the remnants of his fish sandwich toward the middle of the table. He would have to head back soon.
Up to that point, he'd either been focused solely on his mediocre meal or the lovely server performing her duties. But something made him quickly glance around before he took his leave. That's when he saw a young boy seated alone at a table adjacent to his. He looked to be only four or maybe five years old. It struck the genius as unusual, because instead of playing with toys or whining for attention, the boy sat quietly arranging and rearranging parts of what looked like an old radio.
Intrigued, Walter threw enough money on his table to cover lunch and a tip then got up and wandered over so he could watch the child more closely. What seemed to be a random positioning of parts before, on closer inspection, turned out to be more like mapping places within the device and the assessment of damage and required repairs.
"It looks like you need a new ballast tube," Walter murmured more to himself than the boy.
"Yeah," Without looking up, the youngster answered in a soft, solemn tone. Then he sighed and said dejectedly, "I don't know if I can find one. I was trying to figure out if I could repurpose a different component. I used part of an old coat hanger to replace the antenna."
Walter slid into another seat at the table and scooted the chair closer to the boy. "Yes, I can see that."
The two of them worked mostly silently, sizing each other up. Occasionally the boy would ask questions about what may or may not work. They were so absorbed in the intricacies of the radio task they didn't notice anyone else around them for a while.
They were both startled when a slightly disapproving voice asked, "Can I help you?"
Still deep in thought, Walter lifted his eyes slowly toward the source of the voice. A bolt of awareness sizzled through him, bright and hot as lightning, the second his gaze met Paige's frowning, concerned one.
A small gasp escaped from her parted lips.
Breathless and befuddled, it was a few seconds before he could gather his scattered wits or draw in enough air to answer. "Uh, no. B-but you should help him."
With that, he rose to his feet and made a hasty retreat.
OXOXOXOXOXO
Paige stood frozen in place for a blink or two before following him. "Stay here, Ralph. I'll be right back," she tossed at her son as she took off in pursuit.
It was him. Him! The man from the audience. He was no longer an intangible face in a vast sea of others. He was solid and as real as her tired shoulders and aching feet.
Refusing to think too much about why she was chasing after him, Paige burst from the café into the blinding midday sunshine. Shading her eyes, she looked almost frantically right to left. She spied him moving at a determined clip back toward the base and she took off in that direction.
Coming up behind the man, Paige wrapped her fingers around the knife edge pleat on the sleeve of his uniform shirt and gave it a couple of sharp tugs. He stopped short. She would have run into the back of him if he hadn't turned around to face her. As it was, she had to steady herself by grabbing his forearm.
She noted it felt sturdy beneath her hand before he flinched and extricated his arm from her grasp.
Great. Now that she'd manhandled him, she couldn't think of a thing to say.
"Ralph doesn't talk to anyone but me," Paige blurted more sharply than she intended.
"He recognizes one of his own," he shrugged and answered casually, as if she hadn't just been remarkably rude.
His words puzzled her enough to make her momentarily forget the awkwardness. "What do you mean by that?"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your son is a genius."
Paige's eyes flooded with tears as the stranger turned and walked away, leaving her to stare after him in open-mouthed astonishment, paralyzed and unable to utter a single one of her thousands of questions.
She hadn't even asked his name.
OXOXOXOXO
"Shut up and deal the cards already." An irritable Walter glowered at Toby, a small sneer curling his upper lip.
"Forgive me interrupting your snit with my witty banter. And this uncharacteristic snit is brought to us by...?" The shrink raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
When no answer was forthcoming, Toby deftly shuffled the cards, making arches and other impressive configurations between his hands. When it didn't have the desired effect of forcing the other player to comment, he asked, "So, Walter. I happened to notice, your girl is headlining at the USO tonight. And yet you're here playing poker, which, let me remind you, you hate. Care to explain?"
Sylvester wandered into the makeshift office and dropped into the only unoccupied seat. "You can deal me in if you want."
The doctor was on duty that night, but the few patients still in the hospital were stable and resting.
Eyes focused on Walter's face, Toby answered the teen. "Not a chance. Me and Walt count cards, but you're absolutely lethal in that department."
Crossing his arms, Sly pouted. "You're only playing for cotton swabs anyway."
Tossing cards one at a time into piles in front of himself and Walter, Toby ignored Sly and continued interrogating the other man. "So? Why aren't you at the USO drooling over your singing sweetie tonight?"
"She's not my anything. She's married," the genius all but snarled. He snatched his cards off the desk, arranging them into a fan in one fist.
"You're bending the cards, Romeo. And, no. My source assured me she's footloose and fancy free." Feigning nonchalance, Toby peered over his own cards gauging Walter's very interesting reaction.
"Obviously your intel was incorrect. She has a kid," he sighed, sounding defeated.
Toby discarded two cards and picked up two more off the deck.
"Doesn't necessarily mean she's married, does it? Was she wearing a ring?" Sylvester asked.
Walter laid three cards face down and slid them across the desk, frowning in thought. "No. Not that I noticed. But she has a son." His mouth kicked up on one side. "Incredible kid. He's a genius like us. Quiet. Introverted. Only about four years old and sharp as a tack. I can tell she tries, but she has no idea what to do with him."
The doctor dealt him three more cards. "The way I see it, the real question has nothing to do with her marital status. The real question here is whether or not you're gonna let that kid flounder like we did."
Walter dropped his cards on the desk and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at his temples in agitation. When he looked up, his resolute gaze darted between his two friends.
"I think you two are going to help me steal a ballast tube."
