Navigating A Plot Device

This exchange left Jennifer no less equivocal about the Regular Stranger than before. However, from that point, the Regular Stranger was somewhat less of a stranger to Jennifer than he had been before

This was why Jennifer now turned to him for help. This, and the fact that she had no one else to turn to.

It was a Friday afternoon. Jennifer and the Regular Stranger were again alone in the coffee shop. Jennifer pulled up a chair and sat next to the Regular Stranger, who looked up at her with his full attention.

"I'm sorry to bother you...but I need help."

"Alright..."

"Ah...um...would you know where I could get a revolver?"

"At a gun store...if you have a permit."

"I don't have time for that!"

Jennifer sighed. The Regular Stranger remained as wooden-faced as ever.

"Look...you've been very nice to me. You come here every day. You always leave a nice tip when you don't have to. And you can disagree politely and respectfully...it's just that..."

"Take your time."

Jennifer sighed again.

"Thank you...it's just that I wasn't always in this business...I...have a past..."

"Most people do."

Jennifer was surprised to hear the Regular Stranger say this. The tag of "conservative" commentator and their previous conversation of any length had led her to believe his reaction would be anything but this. Nevertheless, the urgency of her situation galvanised Jennifer to rapidly overcome her surprise.

"This morning after the eight o'clock crowd left, there was...this...man...who came in...he wants a lot of money Monday morning at seven-thirty...or he will..."

"I catch your drift...in that case, for one thing, a revolver would only get you into more trouble than you already have. Better a shotgun. Best yet, no guns at all."

"But I can't go to the police!"

"I appreciate that. The man who is blackmailing you, is he the slovenly boy with the unkempt blond hair who just pulled into town in that gaudy sports car?"

"Yes! His name is Rogan McPeters. He is a social media sensation. That means--"

"I know who and what he is. He is filthy rich, so he is doing this for sick kicks. Tell me, Monday morning, could you open up and let me in around six?"

"Yeah...why?"

"I think Mister Rogan McPeters can be handled without inconveniencing you other than having you open up earlier than usual."

In her mind, Jennifer knew she was taking a huge gamble. The Regular Stranger had given her no details on what he was going to do. Jennifer could not even rule out the possibility that the Regular Stranger was in cahoots with Rogan McPeters. This was Jennifer's logic, sharpened by her over a decade of experience in her previous industry, at work. But, in her heart, she now felt a certain warmth from the Regular Stranger, a certain reassurance, a certain sincerity.

And what was her alternative?

Jennifer opened at five that Monday morning. At six, the Regular Stranger came in, sat in his usual booth, ordered coffee and unfolded the day's financial newspaper. Other than the hour, everything was as usual with the Regular Stranger. This paradoxically both calmed and innervated Jennifer.