Glamour Bank was a far distance away from his school and Nelson decided to take a taxi there. On getting dropped off, he paid the driver and walked inside. He walked past a lot of stylishly dressed persons on his way in and they in turn gave him weird looks but he paid them no attention. He focus was on getting his card reactivated and he intended on doing that as soon as he could. He didn't want to get kicked out of BrainWhite University.
The main hall of the bank was so big and tastefully furnished, he understood why it was called Glamour Bank. It was truly a bank for the elite only as it didn't look like a regular bank. Finally finding his way to customer service, he pressed on door bell outside the office and the door slid open. Thankfully finding it to be free of customers, he walked in.
There was a smartly dressed woman by a desk on a phone call who signaled at him to give her a minute. When she was done, she turned her chair around to face him.
"Hello, and good afternoon. Welcome to Glamour Bank where we make sure your savings are safely secured and sure to bring your profit. How may I help you?" She asked, smiling.
"I'd like to reactivate my card, please," Nelson said.
"I'm sorry, young man, but it seems you're mistaken. This is Glamour Bank. We deal with only premium cards, and these are not like the regular card that common people carry," she said, giving him a once over look.
"Is this a premium card then," he asked, showing her his black card.
The woman wore a shocked look on her face which she quickly hid.
"Can I look at that closely?" She asked.
Nelson handed her the card which she took gingerly.
"This card…" she trailed. "Where did you get it from?" She asked accusingly.
"What do you mean by that?" Nelson asked, offended.
"Young man, did you steal it?" She asked.
"Of course not! That card is mine. I didn't steal it from anywhere. I've never ever stolen a thing in my life and I wouldn't start it now," Nelson defended.
He was offended by the woman's accusations and wondered what could have warranted such from her. He knew he wasn't dressed as expensively as the usual customers of the bank but that gave her no right to call him a thief.
The woman studied for Nelson for a while, taking a proper look at him and noticing how cheap his clothes were. Surely, such a person couldn't be the owner of such a rare a card. This card was reserved for the elite of the elite class and only them alone. Even famous celebrities couldn't be in possession of such rarity. The boy must surely have stolen it from its original owner.
"Look, ma'am, if there's a problem, I'll just go. I don't want any trouble." Nelson was starting to have second thoughts about reactivating the card.
The woman, sensing his nervousness and perceiving it as a sign of guilt decided to hold him down for as long as possible while discreetly pushing a button below her desk to call for security help. She didn't want Nelson to get away.
"I'm sorry," she apologized falsely. "It's just that this card is extremely precious so I had to make sure," she said.
Nelson couldn't understand what the big deal about the card was. Wasn't it a normal credit card as others? He wondered.
"Do you know the worth of this card?" The woman asked.
Again, with the questions about the card. Nelson was honestly beginning to get tired of the woman's incessant questions.
"All I know," he began, "is that there is enough money in there to cover for my tuition. I don't even need all, I just want to pay for my tuition fees."
So he stole the card because he was desperate to pay his fees, the woman thought. He really must not know its real value or he was simply pretending. She proceeded to tell him about it then.
"This is not just an ordinary bank card, sir, this is a one of a kind, really rare, Platinum Black Card. It is given only to those with a networth of over $500,000,000 (five hundred billion dollars) and for the card to be activated, there must be such an amount in the account as well."
Nelson had never heard of such an amount in his life before. He was suddenly filled with deep respect for his mother to have left such a fortune to raise him safely and alone.
Just then, he heard the door bell ring and the door of the office slid open to reveal two men in security guard uniforms.
"Welcome officers, please, arrest this fraud." The lady pointed at him for the officers.
Nelson was shocked.
"Wait. What do you mean by fraud? I haven't even done anything wrong!" Nelson protested.
"You are nothing but a good for nothing thief, stealing from unsuspecting individuals and aiming to wreck havoc in their lives," the woman said. "Take him away, officers!"
Nelson was heaved up by the two strong men, and led away amidsts protests and shouts.
"What have I done wrong?!" He shouted. "I assure you, I'm innocent!"
"You'll have to prove that later, young man," one of the security guards said to him as they led him away.
"But I don't even know what I did wrong!" Nelson protested.
Nelson was taken to a dark room resembling a closet. The room had only a single brightly lit bulb which came on as they walked inside. In a corner, with only a chair and a desk and a small window for ventilation, was another smaller room built like a prison cell with steel bars to barricade as doors. Nelson was thrown into the cell.
Nelson paced the room restlessly wandering what he had done wrong. All he did was follow his grandfather's instructions but see where that had gotten him. He knew he wasn't a thief as the card had been given to him his grandfather so he believed there must be a mistake somewhere.
After a while, he requested to make a phone call.
"Hello, is there anyone out there?!" He called loudly but was ignored.
"Please, can I make a phone call?!" He yelled. His phone had been taken away from him before getting locked up by the security guards.
"I know my rights as a citizen of this country and I know I am permitted to at least one phone call while being held in custody!"
"Be quiet!" Someone outside shouted back. "This place isn't a police station, it's just a temporary hold till the bank manager comes to interrogate you. After that, you'll be handed over to the real police officers. You'll get your one call there but till then, not another word from you."
Nelson was tired and hungry, having eaten nothing all day. He decided to sit and wait for the bank manager. He felt like the entire world was against him. First, he was bullied in school, then his girlfriend dumps him for a richer guy, and just when he thought things couldn't get anymore worse, his mother gets taken away from him by the cruel hands of death. He believed he had suffered more than many men his age and as though the universe specifically hated him.
"Nice one, universe," he muttered. After his mother's death, he discovers his wealthy grandfather who offeres him everything. He decided to turn him down to continue living the humble life he had and the one time he tries to take from his grandfather's goodness, he gets thrown in jail. He felt mocked. Like he wasn't deserving of any thing good as they all kept being taken away from him. He got frustrated and shouted in anger, slamming his hands on the desk and eventually throwing it aside.
By the time the door of the larger room was opened, Nelson had lost track of time and was weak with exhaustion. A man dressed in a crisp silver coloured suit, walked in. This must be the bank manager he thought. He quickly got to his feet and held the steel bars.
"Please, allow me out, I don't know why I'm being held here but I assure you that I'm innocent of whatever charges laid against me," he pleaded.
"What's your name?" The man asked.
"I am Nelson Baristan," Nelson replied.
Baristan? The manager wondered. "Do you know who I am? The man asked.
"I'm assuming you're the bank manager," Nelson answered.
"I am Andrew Monroe, general manager of Glamour Bank," the man replied proudly.
Nelson regained his composure. "It's a huge honour to meet you, Mr Monroe."
"Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing for you, young man," Mr Monroe said. "Do you know why you're being held here?"
"No, I do not, and I was hoping someone would care to tell me but till this moment, no-one has told me a thing," Nelson replied.
The man nodded. "You've been brought here on the allegations of theft and fraudulent intents. What can you say about that?"
"For the one hundredth time, I am innocent of such allegations," Nelson argued. "I just came here to reactivate my bank card and the next thing I knew, I was thrown into this cell."
"Mr Baristan, the card you came in here with to get activated or as you say, reactivated, is not just an ordinary bank card —"
"Yes, I know. The lady at the customer service told me it's some rare card but I really don't care about that, I just want to get my tuition fees paid," Nelson interjected.
"Was that why you stole it? Because you were desperate to pay off your tuition fees?" The bank manager asked.
"I didn't steal it!" At this point, Nelson was tired of going over the same thing. "I got that card as a gift from my grandfather. It once belonged to my mother but since she's dead, he decided to pass it on to me."
"And who is your grandfather?" The bank manager asked.
"James Baristan," Nelson replied.