Chapter 7

As the days became weeks, they then rolled into months. All I knew in this new life was work and sleep. The first salary I received from Tim was one thousand pounds. I saved this in my bank account. The tip money from the waitresses I purchased myself a second-hand MacBook Air. Like clockwork, after work, I rushed to my bedroom, grabbed my apple device and called mum. With Facetime at my disposal, I could talk and view my mother whenever I called her. Nick, I would call twice a week; our main subject was our Beamer. I would then join the Wrights family for dinner. On rare occasions, Jason would join us with his attendance.

I got very close living with the Wrights family, especially Tim, as I was with him for twelve hours a day, working with him in the cafe. Tina, I would help her for an hour with her Maths and English after she finished school. Barbara was always busy with house chores, but she consistently made me feel welcome. Whenever Jason decided to turn up, he still caused havoc for everyone. I would spend my evenings in my room, glued to the MacBook. With two of the top online movie on-demand apps, I had hundreds of films at my disposal.

It was in autumn that I began to start jogging on Sunday, which was my day off. I did my running around the local park, near the cafe. I started with one lap at first. As my stamina got longer, so did the distance I ran. Now I do one lap around the block, just to warm up. I glide past people who walk their dogs or just stroll in the park. I was surprised at how many of them would greet me as I got to know the community.

There are two casinos on Hagley Street, not far from the cafe. They were both on my jogging route. The one furthest away from the restaurant is part of a chain of casinos which is nationwide. The other one, which is two streets from the cafe, is privately owned. I do not mention this because I am a regular visitor to these kinds of establishments. What caught my curiosity was that Jason is always hovering around in the parking lot of the privately-owned casino. I would jog past, and he would be with a crowd of other young men, the same age as him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see he was mixing with a bad company.

I began to jog regularly. Every other day I would run, taking alternative routes every time. I would go past the casino, watching every move Jason and his friends would make. They would lure the clientele of the establishment to take out personal loans.

Jason was a loan shark.

I got friendly with two homeless men in the park: a few pound coins and a hot meal from the cafe loosened up their tongues. I got more details about Jason’s friends or, should I say, colleagues.

“The gang leader is called Shark. Short for a loan shark,” one of the homeless men said.

“Which one is Shark?” I asked.

They just looked at each other before they turned back to look at me.

“It’s dangerous, man. These people are violent. We don’t want them coming knocking on our door,” The other homeless man said.

It didn’t take long to get the information I needed when I dug out of my tracksuit pocket a twenty-pound note.

“The leader is the one with a tattoo sleeve and shaved head,” The same homeless man that spoke earlier said. He snatched the money out of my hand before I could say anything.

They expected a reaction from me, but I just put on my tracksuit hood, got into my start position and began to run towards the casino, hoping to get a better view of Shark.

I wasn’t lucky on this occasion.

Jason was coming home less frequently, making his family more worried. I wanted to get him to speak to him on his own, but I hardly got the chance to see him.

It was late October when I had my opportunity. I was approaching the casino. Jason was sitting on the small wall, which circled the parking lot of the establishment. He was facing the main street. Perfect. It was on my jogging route. I picked up my pace, hoping to get there before he got up and went inside the building or joined his associates.

When I reached him, he had his face down, looking at the pavement.

“Hey Jason, what’s up,” I said, smiling at him.

He looked up, shocked to see me. “Why are you here?” he angrily said.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by his comrades, forming a circle around me. Jason stepped back, but the knee height wall was stopping him. Two of the mob stepped aside, making a gap for their leader. It was Shark. Finally, I had a face to the name. I recognised him from the description I was given by the homeless men. He had a sleeve tattoo, his left arm covered in playing cards, aces, queens, kings, jacks and numbered cards.

Shark stepped forward, shaking his head slowly. When he was close enough to me, he reached into his jacket. He pulled out a switchblade. With a press of a button on the side of its handle, the blade flicked open. He stretched his arm out towards my face. The knife was inches away from my cheek. He almost scraped the edge of the blade along my face.

I didn’t flinch a muscle.

He came close, his lips almost touching my ear. “No one talks to my boys unless they want to borrow money. Do you want a loan, Mr Jogger?” He whispered.

“Oh, he’s nothing, Shark. He’s just the pot wash boy at my dad’s cafe,” Jason said with a chuckle.

Shark turned his attention to Jason. Turning, he pointed the dagger at him. “Who told you to speak!” he screamed at Jason.

Turning back to me, Shark said, “Go and wash some plates, Mr Jogger.” His comrades began to laugh while Jason just stared at me.

I jogged back home.

For the following weeks, I studied every move these loan sharks made. Where they dined, pubs they used, even where some of them lived. They were all locals who lived in council flats. A majority of them were a part of the unemployed in Birmingham. Shark lived in a flat above the casino. When he went out, it would be with one of the company limos. The only place he would walk to was the gym, a five-minute walk from the casino. Even then, he would take a posse of henchmen with him.