It's a Free Country After All (Part 2)

THE ROAD to McDonalds was the most difficult; we nudged and weaved our way past people. I looked back, stopped; the man was clutching his chest and panting loudly. I looked ahead, three eastern European men drinking their coffee, probably wondering why we were running so fast. Had they stole something?
Things eased up once we hit the highroad and we snuck into Woolworths, where a smartly dressed man nodded in greeting. He reached out and offered me a hand shake. “How are you, young man?” Why are you being so nice? He reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like cologne, and let out the smallest puff. “It suits you, sir. It’s only twenty five pounds.”
I stood and felt the spray land on my nose. It smelled of wood, mixed with roses and apple. I didn’t even want to guess what kind of men brought cologne like this, it was clearly for women. The man gave a pleased nod, as if I was willing to buy it. I don’t do ladies perfume. I came across the music section and pulled out a CD entitled Lonely in the Rain and watched the muscular Indian man walking by. His face should have been on the cover of this CD. Everything about the moment seemed picturesque, apart from the fact that it wasn’t raining.
Eventually we went outside and a man in blue rimmed glasses and a rain coat handed me a card. Another one of those calling cards I guessed; nothing seemed unusual about it. On the other side of the card, was a close up picture of me. This was strange and I felt my body tingle. I noted the mans crinkly hair, his narrow lips and uneven nose. I supposed, all of this would be useful, if the police later came to ask what he looked like.
This must be a terrible joke, I thought. One of those just for laughs pranks that I had seen on the TV, but something told me this wasn’t a joke. “What’s my picture doing here?”
He looked at the numerous cards in his hand and his eyes widened. “He looks just like you!” Meanwhile, Hakim was talking to his mother on his mobile. The Principle had informed her of our circumstance. Yet, he still insisted he wasn’t bunking. “Mum, I was buying something from the store and lost track of time.” He said firmly. He listened for a moment, and then tossed me the mobile.
“Was it your idea to bunk?” Hakim’s mother asked. “No,” I said back, creating some artificial noise. “Connections really bad, I’m sorry.”
“That’s you,” Hakim said, as the man handed him a card as well. “What’s your picture doing on here?”
“He’s a model,” Omar added. “Part time I suppose, lets get back to school now.”
“We’re not going anywhere!” I shouted.
“We are,” Hakim and Omar corrected.
I decided that I was going to stay and sort this out.
“Don’t worry,” the man said, handing me another card. Stop handing me more cards. “Call the number on the card.”
Good idea. I looked up at the sky, and wondered how they day could get much worse. I would have to call a number, which I found out was a premium line. That in turn would cost me money; some of that money going to this mans wages. No way was I going that route.
“Haven’t you got a 0800 number?”
“We do but we don’t advertise it on the card” A wink. “Have you got some paper?”
I handed him the receipt for the CD I brought. I ended up buying that Lonely in the Rain crap. I watched as he jotted down the numbers, especially pinning the last number before giving me an awkward look. Don’t give this to anyone.
I tucked the receipt into my pocket, listening to the sounds of loud engines, and shouts of bus horns, trying to remember the last time I had watched Top Gear. Laying there on the side of the road, a ten pound note fluffing in the wind. My fortune was starting to take a turn for the better.