by Charles Webb
‘What don’t you want to say to him,’ Colin said.
The tourist took a step closer. ‘The damn guy looks like he’s the head pallbearer at his best friend’s funeral,’ he said quietly. ‘So after me and the wife move along, take him aside, one Englishman to another, and say, “Friend, I think a great big smile on that face of yours would go one heck of a long way toward pulling those customers over to your shop on their way down to the Ferris wheel.” Will you tell him that for me?’
The man stepped out of the shop wearing a blue-and-white striped shirt.
‘Hey. Now we’re getting serious.’ The tourist grinned, nodded, then turned to Colin again. ‘I believe our friend’s starting to get serious about doing some business around here. Am I right? Oh listen.’ He bent down and opened his case. ‘I’ve got the videocam.’ He lifted it out. ‘When the wife comes back I’ll have her slip on her Seagull shirt and maybe you could shoot us over there by the railing. Think you can handle this thing?’
‘I believe so,’ Colin said, taking the camera from him. ‘Maybe I could take the two of you on one of the rides. A little more action.’
‘Oh I like that.’ He clapped Colin on the side of the arm. ‘You’re my man. Let me settle up with our Salesman of the Month here first.’ He removed his wallet from his rear pocket. ‘We’ve got three shirts, five of the souvenir candies.’ He took the rock from Colin to hand to the shopkeeper. ‘And let’s toss in a few buses while we’re at it.’ He reached down to scoop up some of the little red buses in his hands. ‘Total us up, my good man,’ he said, holding them in front of the shopkeeper. ‘Oh by the way, while you were inside I cleaned up your display table for you. No charge. No charge.’
Colin bent down to set the videocam back in the man’s bag. ‘Before the wife gets back,’ he said, straightening up and opening his drawing pad, ‘there’s a small favour I have to ask of you.’
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