It wasn't that Merlin was too afraid to call the number he'd been given. It was just easier to text.
That way he wouldn't have to hear the same threatening voice as he had when he was standing behind the counter that morning. But he had to do something to contact the mysterious customer, because he really didn't doubt that his life could be made very difficult if he didn't. The threat of legal action had seemed very possible, and Merlin would probably lose his job before it even came to that. And he'd really prefer it if that didn't happen, since he actually liked his job. Or he'd liked it a lot more before he'd been accused of stealing thousands of pounds from a credit card, even though it was practically impossible for him to do anything of the sort.
He sat on the threadbare sofa in the living area of his apartment. It was feeling particularly drab that evening, and Merlin really didn't have the budget to turn on the central heating considering how much rent he was paying. The people in the apartment below him always seemed to have their heating on full blast, though, so he got a fair amount of warmth from them. It can in quite handy, especially in the winter months. They were coming towards the end of February now, and after a particularly harsh winter, Merlin was looking forward to summer. The season where you just opened a window if you were too hot, and thankfully, that was free.
His Nokia was held in both of his hands. The number on the card had been typed in, and all that was left to do was think of the right thing to say and hit send. It was more difficult than it sounded, though.
- Hello, just wanted to know what the situation was with the credit card? It really wasn't my fault, and I hope everything's okay with it now. Merlin.
He surveyed the text for a moment, then moved his finger to the delete key. But he knew he could spend the next half hour debating the best way of phrasing those words, and the meaning would remain the same. Best to just send it now and get it over with. His thumb pressed down on the send button, and in an instant his shoulders felt lighter. Then, barely a heartbeat later, he started dreading the reply. He sighed; it was going to be a long evening.
On the other side of London, an iPhone vibrated the pocket of an upmarket pair of jeans.
Arthur ignored it, however, since he was impatiently waiting for the money from the only trust fund his father had authorised to be transferred over. He was tapping the toe of his well-polished shoe against the side of the table, since tapping it against thickly carpeted floor didn't create such a noticeable noise. Arthur wanted this done, and he wanted it done quickly. The thought of being completely without money was unsettling. Even more so was the knowledge that he had no way of changing that situation without the trust fund money. But it would be his shortly enough, even if it wasn't enough to keep him going for more than a few weeks. And much less if he didn't manage to control his spending habits.
"The funds are completely transferred now, Mr. Pendragon. The delay was just because we had to confirm the transfer details with your father. Company policy, and all that," the balding man told Arthur with a smug grin.
"Understandable," Arthur replied, a much more serious look on his features. "Next time, a quicker service would be appreciated." He tried not to think of when the next time would be, for he wouldn't be swapping money around for quite a while to come. He wouldn't even have any money to switch accounts. That was as long as his father held his promise, though, and with a bit of persistence, Arthur hoped it wouldn't be too long.
"Of course, Mr. Pendragon. We always try our best."
Arthur quickly grew tired of the conversation and made his excuses to leave. As he walked through the bank towards the exit, he checked his phone. Leon asking if he fancied a trip over to Italy for the football that weekend. Arthur rubbed his eyes, wondering how he was going to manage doing anything anymore. He was very aware that he didn't have a laptop after throwing the last one out of the window, and that had to be a priority over foreign adventures. There was another message from Gwaine, also about the Italy trip. It sounded like Arthur would be the only one in his friendship ground not going. Great, that had to be the perfect recipe for a boring weekend with no money, all on his own.
Then there was an automated reply from his online banking account, telling him about the transfer of finances both to and from his account. If only he hadn't seen that earlier...
Then the final message was from Merlin. He'd forgotten the sales assistant from earlier, occupying his thoughts with the poor state of his finances instead. But he did really need a new laptop, and the one he had been about to purchase had sounded good. The best, Merlin had said. And he did like the best...
Could he afford it anymore, though?
After thinking for a second, he saw a way of fixing both problems.
- May be willing to drop charges if you buy the laptop using staff discount, then I pay you for it in cash. Arthur.
Perhaps everything would work out okay in the end. Though it would be better not to worry about what he was going to do once the money ran out.
Oh, great. Merlin was being asked to break the rules of his workplace - not using your discount card to buy anything for anyone else, unless it's a gift. But it was that, or a court case and probably being fired. Finding a new job wouldn't be too difficult, but with the record that he'd been fired, rather than left, his last job... Well, everything would get considerably harder.
He sighed, considering the situation. But really, there was no choice.
- Okay, fine. Where and when?
He pressed his face into his hands after sending the message, wishing he'd never gotten into the situation. If he'd have just stayed away from the laptops for a bit longer... It wasn't like anything he was accused of was actually his fault, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
- Tomorrow. When do you have a lunch break?
- 12.45pm until half 1.
- 1pm outside the back of the shopping centre, where the deliveries are received.
Merlin knew the place well. It was exactly the place where you'd think a dodgy dealing was going to take place. At least there was unlikely to be anyone around there, though. Truck drivers would hardly care about what was going on, and besides, Merlin had more pressing problems at that moment. He texted back the number, feeling slightly more confident about the conversation than before.
- Okay. But there's one problem. I don't have enough money to just buy that laptop.
- That's not my problem. Do you want the court case or not?
- No... But you'll have the money when I meet you?
- Of course.
- Right, fine then.
And that was that. Merlin should have really stood up for himself more, but what could he do? He had no bargaining chips. Arthur held them all. It looked like he had a few calls to make.
Ten minutes later, he had a very suspicious Will on the phone.
"Merlin, what have you done? Are you in debt? It's not drugs, is it?"
Trust Will to jump to the worst conclusions.
"No, it's nothing like that at all. I just need a few grand, and I can give it back tomorrow afternoon. It's nothing - honestly!"
"No, Merlin. It can't be nothing. And you know as well as I do that I don't have a few grand lying around!"
He was right - neither of them was particularly well off.
"Well, it was worth a try," Merlin sighed, rubbing his eyes as he wondered what he was meant to do now.
"You know I'd help if I could."
"I know you would. Thanks Will." Then Merlin ended the call, before he would have to answer any more questions about why he needed the money in the first place. He really didn't want to get into it. Especially now that there was only one option that he could see which was still open to him...
There was a man that Merlin had heard about who lived on the bottom floor of the apartment building. And it was even dodgier than it sounded. The phrase "loan shark" had been bounced around by a few people, and Merlin had listened with a polite sort of interest, making a mental to never get involved. The repayment increases were extortionate, but that should be a problem if Merlin was going to pay the money back tomorrow. It was the only way he could think to get the money and end up not having to go to court.
Although, there was the possibility that he wouldn't actually be found guilty of anything if he was taken to court. After all, he was technically in the right. He had to keep reminding himself of that, though, because he kept forgetting with all the apologising he was doing. But he was thoroughly convinced that whoever could afford to walk into a shop and decide to buy a laptop worth thousands of pounds without even seeing it first could afford amazing lawyers. The kind that can twist your words and practically convince you to plead guilty. And Merlin didn't think he'd even be able to afford the worst.
Merlin grabbed the keys for his apartment and fled the room before he could change his mind.
Down in the bottom floors of the apartment building, the atmosphere was very different. It was much more unwelcoming, dirty and generally intimidating that the middle and upper floors. Merlin at least knew his neighbours where he lived, even if he didn't know much more about them than their names, or get on that well with them. But here, no-one asked questions and kept themselves to themselves. Thankfully, Merlin knew where he was going.
Apartment 1135.
Merlin stood in front of the door for a good ten seconds, trying to work up the courage to just knock. It was this, or prison. No job. He didn't really know what, if he was honest, but it was unlikely to be good. He took a deep breath and knocked. It opened almost immediately after his knuckles had left the wood.
Inside, the apartment stank. It hit him before he'd even crossed the threshold of the room. There was no sort of interrogation to get inside, so Merlin could only assume that any business was considered good business.
The door was closed behind him, and Merlin jumped slightly, throwing a look over his shoulder to see a toothy youth standing in the corner. Apparently he was on door duty.
Merlin advanced further into the dimly lit room, trying not to breathe in the pockets of smoke which seemed to be hovering around at random intervals. A rather portly man sat in an armchair, smoking whatever it was that Merlin was trying not to ingest. The armchair seemed to have moulded around his fat, rather than the man simply sitting in it. The picture wasn't exactly appealing, but Merlin tried to look past that, realising that this was the man who was most likely to be able to help him.
"I was looking to get a loan?"
"Ah, were you now?" the man replied in a gravelly voice. He'd obviously been smoking a lot and for a long time.
"Yes. Two thousand pounds," Merlin told him, since he'd worked out that would cover the price of the laptop with his discount taken off.
"And how long for?"
"A day."
The man's thick brown eyebrows raised almost into his hairline at that admission. "Only a day? How do you think you can get it back to me that fast?"
Merlin remained quiet, unsure as to what the right answer was.
"Never mind, I don't tend to get involved with reasons. As long as I get the cash. On that loan, I'll give you the two grand, and you'll pay me £2,200 tomorrow. Less than twenty four hours, yes?"
The rates were extortionate, Merlin knew that, but it wasn't like he could look up other loan sharks in the directory. This was his only shot.
"Deal."
"Okay, just so we're clear, I have guys who'll chase you up if I don't get the money within the time frame. Your balance goes up by two-hundred quid for every day I'm waiting, and you will pay it all back in the end. They'll make sure of that." Merlin gulped, but nodded.
"Right, Jed, fix me a contact." The boy at the door nodded as the fat man reached behind him, jiggling his roles of excessive body weight as he did so. He began counting the notes into his lap, and by the time he was finished a piece of paper was being shoved into Merlin's hands. There was barely anything to fill in - just his name, address, contact numbers and the names of other people who could be contacted in his absence. It just reminded him how much of a dodgy deal this really was. Once the boxes were filled in, he handed it over to the man. It was looked over briefly, then the cash was exchanged. Merlin tried not to bolt out of the door with it, but that probably wouldn't be the best impression to leave behind him.
"Thank you, Merlin Emrys. I'm Joe Bloggs, pleasure doing business with you," he man said, holding out a very chubby hand for Merlin to shake. He took it, and tried not to grimace at the sweat which had stuck to the contour lines of the man's palm. There was a very low chance that the name provided was the real one, but it was good enough for Merlin. Phase one was complete.