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The Yo-Yo Champion
Ray Jakes | | | | | |
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The bright sunlight glinted off the limousine's bumper as it pulled into the
car park, temporarily blinding Brendan O'Leary as he stood waiting by the
hotel's entrance.
"They're here!"
As he ran inside to tell his friend that their car had arrived, he almost
knocked himself out on the hotel lobby's revolving doors.
"Are you OK?" said Ray Jakes, trying his hardest to stifle a laugh.
"Quarter to two," replied Brendan O'Leary, looking a bit dazed. Ray Jakes was
expecting tweeting birds to start flying around his friend's head.
"Look, pull yourself together you fucker, I think I've just seen our ride
pulling into the car park. You stay here for a bit and I'll go and see what's
happening."
Ray Jakes strolled casually over to where the limo was parked. A besuited
gentleman was standing by the passenger door.
"Good morning, sir," said the man, extending his right hand in greeting.
"Sausage face is the name. I'll be your escort for the day."
Ray Jakes flashed the man a quizzical look.
"How did you know I'm the person that you were supposed to be pick... erm,
escorting?"
Sausage face's eyebrows shot up.
"If you don't mind me saying, sir, it would be difficult not to recognise the
current reigning British Yo-Yo Champion. Your picture has been all over the
news for weeks."
Ray Jakes looked surprised. He hadn't realised that he was a celebrity in the
United States. Back home in the UK, there had been very little in the news
about his recent championship win. He'd made page seven of the local
newspaper - who ran a five line story and spelt his name wrong - but the
national papers just didn't seem to care at all. Still, he'd got his chance
to come to America and compete in the Yo-Yo World Championships, so what did
he care? Actually, he cared a lot. He was doing something good, something to
be proud of, and he couldn't understand why no one back home was interested.
Bad news always seemed to take precedent over good news, and that made him
feel quite sad.
Brendan, now fully recovered after his accident with the revolving doors,
walked over to the car.
"This is... unbelievable!"
The two friends looked at each other and started grinning. They never
imagined that they'd be riding to the competition in the back of a stretch
limousine. Sausage face smiled and opened a rear door, motioning for the
friends to get in.
"Thank you, Sausage face," said Brendan O'Leary, in his poshest voice.
Laughter filled the car as it pulled away from the hotel car park and drove
off down the highway.
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