The next day, Kareem Bezel, an authentic intellect and undoubtedly Upper Merion High’s most savants, strolled out of the debate team meeting. He made his way to the school lobby on a mission. He had always been known for his friendliness, but his popularity skyrocketed when classmates and teachers discovered that he was a child prodigy. At sixteen-years-old, he was a senior at Upper Merion and a highly regarded, quick witted student, and very likely to succeed. How he managed being a distinguished honor roll student, the most stylish boy on campus, and a class clown baffled many.
Kareem reached the lobby, and called Express Limo on his cell phone. He put on his older white man fake voice and told the receptionist that he was John Carter. Not Kareem, or even his nick name, Reem. After the formalities, he requested a sedan be delivered to the school with a driver to pick up his son. Kareem smiled; he was the son, and the father. A sexy smile, complimented by plush lips that women adored. He had a sleek, natural Caribbean tan, which shone bright under the black that he wore. He had perfect African features: slim head, snout, and expertly chiseled from track and field and weight lifting. He was only 5’6” and very slender. His favorite adage was: Big things came in small packages. And he had a bombshell in the package for the limo service: and, not of the Naomi Campbell persuasion.
He was clueless as to who John Carter was. And didn’t care. For that day’s purpose, he was poignantly another one of his credit card fraud victims. Kareem had been rewarded with Mr. Carter’s American Express card during one of his many “mailbox shopping” sprees. He was amazed at what he found in mailboxes that were not his own. The receptionist recorded John Carter’s credit card number and then informed him that the company only had limos available.
“Okay, what is your hourly rate, for the limo service?” Kareem asked, despite knowing the answer.
“That depends on the vehicle,” she told him. “We have Lincoln, Cadillac, Jaguar, and Hummer.”
“The Jaguar will be great,” Kareem confirmed, like a true businessman. He wanted to enjoy the sleekness of the luxury ride. He had business to tend to and a limo lent credibility to his up-coming plan.
“Right now, we have the Jaguar S-type 4.0 at $325 for the first hour, and $105 each additional hour.”
Kareem muffled the phone and pretended to clear his throat uncontrollably. “You can go ahead and charge the card for two hours. Thank you.”
Kareem patiently waited having done that so many times with different limousine services. On occasion, even if he had no use for the limo, he would rent a limo to activate a credit card. Most other crafty men—well, amateurs—used gas station self service pumps to try and activate a card.
Not Kareem.
He had learned that creditors flagged accounts that had a gas pump as the first transaction. Kareem was young, but he had learned early—at fifteen—that when the water department threatened to terminate service, one had to find a creative way to stop that. He received his confirmation from the limo service, and watched his older brother, Dre stroll off the football field.