Chapter 10

• RICHARD
• "Give me a minute, sir," the receptionist said.
• After a few taps on her computer, she nodded in a satisfied manner. Beaming, she handed me my debit card. Shock had made him pale considerably even under his tan.
• "Your payment is successful, Mr Richard," she said.
• "I can see that. Thank you." I leaned casually against the desk and turned to Samson who still had not recovered the power of speech. I brushed an invisible speck off my shirt and regarded him coolly. "What was that you were saying?"
• His eyes flashed and burned. The veins stood out on his forehead.
• "You- you-" he stammered, paused.
• "Me what? If you have something else to say to me, now is the time because I will soon go in there-" I jerked my thumb in the direction of the exclusive part of the mall. "-to buy stuff, and I don't imagine I will be out for hours. Or perhaps you don't have anything else to say. You seem to have exhausted your supply of words since you had so much to say earlier."
• I straightened and made it as if to walk away.
• "Hold it right there, you wretched fool!" he said.
• "Finally, he speaks." I turned slowly to face him again.
• "Don't you dare go in there! You're a thief, a robber-"
• "Aah." I tapped my chin meditatively. "Now where have I heard that one before? Oh yes, I remember. Someone, a sour loser by the way, called me that today when I paid for something he thought I could never afford."
• "And he was bloody right! How else can you afford five hundred thousand dollars? You must have robbed a bank, or- or better still planned a robbery, doubled crossed your partners and made off with their share of the loot. Because-" He sneered as he gave me a once over. "-I'm quite sure a wimp like you can't actually rob, unless you were quite desperate."
• "Samson," I cried in mock surprise. "In all my years of working with you... I mean, for you, I never knew that you had such an active imagination. In a few seconds, you've had the whole robbery scenario all painted out in your head. If you ask me, I would say that your talents are wasted here, working in this mall. You should be writing movie scripts. I mean, you've almost convinced me that I was actually involved in a robbery."
• He growled and took a threatening step towards me. I wagged a finger at him. "Oh no. You don't want to do that. If you touch me, the report will get to your boss and you will get fired. Fighting is not allowed in the premises, remember? It's in the rule book you're so fond of yapping about to those working under you."
• "I'll expose you, Richard, even if it's the last thing I do. You'll be sorry for disrespecting me," he threatened, turning to the receptionist. "Look, this man here needs to be investigated by the police. He is an employee here, working under me-"
• "Was an employee. I just quit outside, remember?"
• "-so, tell me how could he have gotten hold of that kind of money. He..."
• Samson trailed off when the receptionist continued to stare at him stonily. He realized he would get no sympathy or support there.
• "Will I be needing to sign any documents to secure my membership?" I asked the receptionist.
• "Oh. Not at all." Her smile resurfaced. "The payment takes care of everything. I'll just hand you your membership card right now."
• And she did.
• "I want a membership card too, a platinum membership card," Samson said.
• The woman blinked. "What?"
• "You heard me right," he snapped. "If this pip-squeak can get a membership card, so can I."
• I stared at him in surprise, shook my head. There was really no lengths to which this man would not go to prove a point. I was willing to bet a million bucks that he didn't have five hundred thousand dollars in his account. If by any chance he did, it would be his life's savings, and then what would he live on if he squandered it all on a fancy shopping card? I immediately stepped back and waved him forward.
• "Please, be my guest," I said.
• He saw I was grinning at him, drew himself up to his full height as he stepped forward.
• "Here." He handed the receptionist his debit card as though he was a king conferring an honor.
• He input his pin into the machine. She swiped his card.
• DECLINED: INSUFFICIENT FUNDS popped up on the screen.
• "Your card has been declined," the woman informed him.
• I hid a grin.
• Samson flushed, cleared his throat. "Try it again. There must be some kind of mistake."
• She looked like she was about to protest, but took the card and swiped it again. The same message popped up. The receptionist slid the card over to him. He snatched it up. I couldn't keep it in any longer. I burst into laughter while Samson kept getting redder and redder. For the second time that evening, he was speechless.
• "This is hilarious." I said between bursts of laughter. "Let this be a lesson to you, Samson. Never ever look down on people because of their previous status."
• Still chuckling, I tucked my card into my pocket. The receptionist spoke into the telephone and seconds later, a well dressed, efficient looking man made an appearance.
• "Tom, this is Mr Richard," the receptionist said. "Please take him inside and guide him while he shops for whatever he needs."
• Tom nodded. "Please, come with me sir."
• I waved to Samson. "I guess I'll see you around... or not."
• "But- but you can't let him go in there," Samson said.
• "Why not?" returned the receptionist. "He paid for it, didn't he?"
• "But-"
• "I think I've had quite enough of your disturbance, sir!" The receptionist punched a number on the telephone, spoke for a few seconds.
• Just as I turned the corner with Tom, two security guards came in to lead Samson out.