by Eden Rose
“Hey, George. How are you?” I ask in an attempt to make polite conversation. I really don’t care. I just want my food.
Jen giggles and then jumps in. “George, we are starving. You know? We’ve been at it all day and we need sustenance ASAP if we are going to be fucking all night again. She totally had me bent over the backseat of the car and was fucking me in the ass-”
“Jen!” I yell at her to shut her up before she can continue. This girl watches way too much porn and has too active of an imagination.
My mouth drops open at her forward remark but she just raises her eyebrows at him and he runs away. “Do you have to do that to him? He’s probably jacking off in our wine right now!” I comment.
“Oh well. Just giving him something to put in the spank bank,” she raises her eyebrows a couple of times in an attempt to let me know what she’s talking about.
“I know what a spank bank is!” I remark and bare my teeth at her in a sign of intimidation. She laughs at my attempt.
“Well,” she says but stops when George brings us back out wine. His face is beet red and he runs from the table. “Speaking of spank banks, who is tickling your kitty?”
“My kitty?” I question her and then take a big gulp of wine. Shit, I’m going to need the whole bottle during this conversation.
Jen winks at me and then dives for the bread in front of her. “You know, who’re you fucking right now?”
I shake my head and then immediately regret coming to dinner. She’s insane. “I worry about you. Please tell me you don’t do little kids’ hair. Those kids will need therapy.”
She shrugs and takes a big bite of bread. “Well, they should know. I mean, what do you say about me again? No filter or whatever.”
“I’m not fucking anyone. I’m busy working on an assignment right now. It’s very consuming and I’ve signed a non-compete clause.” I’m lying but I can’t have her asking me questions about this because I will totally tell her everything.
The Bear
The ride is long and very frustrating. Even though I’m doing what I love, getting wind therapy and all of that, I keep thinking about Chantal.
For the first time in years, I almost wanted to say fuck it and stay with Chantal. There’s something about her that just calms me and makes me feel… God damn it. The only thing that comes to mind is alive. Plus, her little body and that pink hair keep flashing through my mind like a reel of tape. The things I want to do to her sexually and every other possible way imagined also play through my mind.
My dick begins to harden in my jeans and I try to think of anything else.
It’s a pretty normal ride out to the town where The Plague’s at. I know that they are ready for us because he keeps texting my burner phone asking where we are. I want to tell him to leave me the fuck alone and I will get to him when I’m ready. So, instead, I have Smokey deal with it when we gas up and get snacks.
“What else is he saying?” I ask Smokey as I top off my gas tank.
Smokey opens his saddle bag and takes his phone out. “Blah blah blah. Just wanting to know where the fuck we are so he can get ready.”
Before I say anything more, a couple of cop cars pull into the gas station. One of them, in an all black car, opens his door and then walks over to me. He’s an older man with a beer belly and a balding head. I can tell from the way he’s walking over to me that he doesn’t give a fuck about why we’re here.
“Hey, boys,” he calls out and then looks at our bikes.
One of the things that I demand for these runs, don’t fly our colors. Which means, leave the vests and other insignia off so we don’t get popped. Cops like this man, are always wanting to show that they have bigger balls than us and that he’s better than us. I personally don’t give a shit what he thinks. I want to get the shipment taken care of so I can get back to Chantal.
What the fuck? A day with this girl and I’m ready to run back to her like a love sick crackhead?
“Hello, officers,” Mack Truck greets them. He’s just coming back from inside the gas station and he’s got a hand full of junk food. “What can we do for you?”
Between myself and Mack Truck, we are the biggest in the club and I’m not talking beer bellies, either. We both take pride in our looks and love to lift weights.
Now that we are communicating with the officers, the other cops climb out of their cars too. It’s funny to see them have one hand on their guns as they approach us because we don’t have our weapons out.
The first one looks over our bikes and then looks at Mack Truck. “Who is the leader?” He asks him.
I’m guessing that he is addressing Mack Truck because he’s the one that talked to him first. “Leader of what?” He questions.
The cops form a semicircle around us and looks each of us down. We don’t back down or say anything and I can tell that he’s getting pissed off that we aren’t cowering. “Let me see your licenses and registration,” he snaps.
My guys look at me and I raise my eyebrow to tell them to follow the directions. We all walk over to our bikes and pull out our licences and registration. I walk over with a shit eating grin on my face when I hand mine to the officer who is talking to us. The others follow and hand them to him. We have fifteen guys with us right now so it’s going to take them a minute to run everything.
We don’t have anything to worry about. Part of the initiation, you get a new identity which means you leave your past life in the past. None of these guys have records and neither do I. These cops are going to be pissed as fuck when they see that they can’t pop us for something.
Officer Dumb Ass comes back towards our bikes with a pissed off look on his face. I have to hide my grin from forming on my face as he hands us back our shit. “Keep the noise down. This is a nice town and we don’t need your shit here.”
All of my guys and I start laughing when they speed off like that is going to intimidate us. Honestly, none of us give a fuck what they think is happening. We’re just passing through.
By the time we get to The Plague’s clubhouse, my back is sore and my ass cheeks are still vibrating from the engine. I climb off my bike and wait for everyone to come into formation so we can discuss the drop.
“Where’s the truck?” I ask Slice.
Slice was in charge of making sure that the truck didn’t get intercepted or messed with anyway. It’s a Penske truck that is normally used for moving but we have changed it into our delivery truck. Most of the time, cops won’t stop the truck because it looks like a normal one with nothing that could be illegal going on in it.
He shrugs and then looks off to the left. “Oh, there it is.”
Sure enough, the truck pulls into the driveway of the clubhouse and parks itself right in front of my bike. All of the men shut off their bikes and come walking over to me. I can tell that they are suffering too from the ride because several of them are walking like they have a cob of corn shoved up their asses.
In the distance, I can hear a garage door opening and then the familiar sound of Harleys riding up to the door. Fang, The Plague’s president, is the first one to slide off of his custom bike and walk over towards us.
He holds his hand out in a customary greeting to me and I shake it. “Hey, Fang. How’s it been going?” I ask him in order to be polite. I don’t give a fuck how he’s doing but I have to keep up with the appearances of being someone that does.
“Ah, you know. A little of this shit and a little of that. You got my shit?” He asks me.
Fang is an older president that has lived a hard life. From what my pop has told me, he used to do a lot of drugs and got into some illegal shit that made him join up with The Plague. His wrinkles on his face tells me that he’s feeling as old as he is and he’s getting tired. I’m taller and bigger than Fang but he’s got these crazy ass looking sharp teeth that make me cringe every time he smiles.
Mack Truck is walking over to the truck to open the door and when he does, I walk over there as well. I need to m
ake sure that no one is messing with my shipment and nobody has tainted it. The last thing that I need is a war with The Plague over something like drugs. If word gets out that I’m skimping out buyers, I could get a big target on my back.
Fang stands in front of the door and whistles to the guys that are still on their bikes. They must trust us because normally they would be up our asses to make sure that we aren’t doing anything that we shouldn’t be doing.
About ten of his brothers are coming down the hill with scowls on their faces. I don’t know if they think it’s intimidating or something, but it just makes them look constipated. Truthfully, these guys aren’t a threat to me or my empire. I want to get this deal done so I can move on with my day.
Slice, Smokey, Mack Truck and Rabies are digging in the back to pull out the boxes that holds their cocaine. There’s a shit ton of drugs, more than I am comfortable on delivering, but it gets them off my back.
Fang has a seedy smile on his face as the boxes land on the ground right in front of him. He twirls his finger in the air and two of his brothers come up to him airtight. “Bring this to the chapter room. I will be there in a minute.”
I hold my hands out in a way that tells them I’m not going to be okay with this. “Fang, you are not taking my shipment out of my sight until you’ve paid me,” I tell him as diplomatically as I possibly can.
“Yeah, man. You haven’t forked over the bread. No bread, no yeast,” Smokey claims as he stands next to me.
I look over at my brother and see that he’s staring down Fang and his two brothers that are standing with him. “Where’s the faith at, brothers?” Fang says and holds his arms out in a friendly manner.
The last thing that I want is for him to go through my shit and then take some out of a baggie or something. He could say that I skimped him out of something and then it will be a full out war. I know that all of my bags are weighed and tagged appropriately but I don’t need to have these fuckers messing with it.
“No disrespect, man, but the shipment stays with me until I get the money.”
Fang has a moment where he’s processing what I’m saying and then he shakes his head. “Whatever, man. I see how it is. No faith among brothers.”
All of this “brother” talk that he keeps spewing is enough to make me want to pull out my Glock and double tap it in his face. “Standard procedure, you understand.”
One by one, the boxes land at Fang and my feet until there isn’t a box left in the truck. Since this isn’t my first rodeo with these assholes, I know that they are going to take it in their chapter room and then start going through the bags. They have a tester who tests a little bit from each box to make sure it’s quality.
We have one of those guys too, but he’s not active on my payroll nor does he wear a patch. My number one rule is, you don’t test the merch and expect to ride with us. Those that do do drugs, I don’t have a problem with them. It’s whatever. What my problem is, I do not trust junkies that take from their own merch. They are fucking untrustworthy and will do anything to get another hit. I don’t need my guys stealing from the club’s profits.
My ex was hooked on drugs and she would do anything for a fix. Anything to get another line. Including selling me out to Big Sir.
I roll my neck and then look at Rabies who is ready to go. “Go ahead and help the men out,” I call to him.
“Sure thing, prez.”
The guys begin carrying the boxes into the clubhouse and I follow along in the back with Mack Truck flanking me. You can never be too careful when you are on someone else’s territory.
The Plague’s clubhouse is similar to ours but they have a bigger party room with more stripper poles. Unlike us, they don’t have a separate club for their strippers and they bring them here. Apparently, they are able to watch out for their girls better this way.
Whatever. Not my fucking problem.
Of course, our girls are perfectly taken care of at The Kitty Strip Club in town. All of the patrons know that the girls are protected by Lucifer’s Lair and if they fuck with them, we would kill them. Yeah, they’re strippers but that doesn’t mean that they have to be pawed at by a bunch of assholes who can’t get some attention without flashing some money.
I can’t help it but I’m not feeling this exchange. Something about the situation has me on high alert and it’s making me want to leave. I tilt my head to Q’ Ball and he walks over towards me. Once he’s close enough that I can whisper in his ear, I do. “Keep your eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Sure thing.”
The boxes are dropped on the table and Fang gets a greedy look in his eyes as the flaps open. In case we get popped by the police, like we almost did, we started hiding the bags in random things in the boxes. Like in a stuffed animal or the pockets of a pair of pants. It’s entertaining for me to watch them go on the scavenger hunt.
One by one, all of the baggies are dropped onto the table and the taste tester pulls out his hook that he uses. The hook looks like one those old witch fingernails that kids use on Halloween. You know the metal ones where you stick them on your fingers?
I have my arms crossed over my chest and my legs are pushed apart in a confident way. Fuck, I am confident. I have went through every single one of these bags to measure them and make sure that they are all distributed equally.
I tilt my head to the side and watch them weigh the baggies and then put them in a pile for the taste tester to go through them. You better believe that I’m standing here and watching the whole thing go down.
“Wait!” Fang barks out and picks up a bag and holds it up to the light to look at the contents better. “What the fuck, Bear?”
I lean over and then look in the bag and see that it’s cocaine. There’s nothing wrong with the bag. “What? What is your problem?” I bite back.
“Well, it looks as if you’re trying to skimp us out of some sand, man.”
Smokey yanks the bag out of his hand and then takes out the drug scale that he keeps in his pocket for this very reason. He hooks the bag up to the clips and then waits a second before speaking out loud. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been smokin, Fang, but this a legit bag.” He tosses the bag back down for the tester.
The tester’s face lights up as he opens the bag and I can tell that he enjoys being their little bitch. Like a taste tester for the royal family or something, he tests everything to make sure that there isn’t poison in it. If there is, he dies. He’s expendable and I don’t even feel the least bad for him. Why? Because he knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he signed up to do this. He knew that he wasn’t meant shit and he signed up to do it anyways.
The greasy haired head of his, leans over and looks at the array of all of the drugs and he’s got a sick smile on his face. It’s obvious that he likes to test it and taste it. There are pock marks on his face and his veins that are visible, stick out next to his pale skin.
He slips the fingernail on his pinky and then opens the bag that was just dropped to the table. The tester inhales the scent from the bag and then sneezes. “Damn, this is some nice smellin’ shiiiottt!” He says with a smile.
“Will you fucking taste the shit so we can pay our guests and get on with it?” Fang snaps.
The tester still has a dumb and happy look on his face while he sniffs it. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he sighs. Actually sighs. Druggies are weirdos. “This is some good shit, Fang. Don’t worry about it.”
The man is clearly high and enjoys his job. Who am I to stand in his way of happiness.
*
The rest of the trip went easy and I kept thinking about Chantal. I don’t know what it is about this woman but I miss her. I don’t even know her that well and I’m riding my bike wondering what it would be like to have her go on a run with me. Would she be into that kind of thing? Would she like being wrapped around my back like my backpack? Or would she want to drive one of her own?
; We stop off at the gas station to fuel up and I see a text from Chantal saying that she’s having dinner with a friend. I’m a crazy and jealous bastard for wanting to ask if it’s a guy friend or a girl friend.
Oh shit, I didn’t even ask her if she was involved with anyone. How could I have been so stupid to not ask her a simple question like if she had a man? Well, if she does he obviously doesn’t have a problem with her sleeping in the same bed as me. And I don’t give a shit if she does, because she’s in my bed.
Slice and Mack Truck follow me as I make a left instead of go straight because I want to see her. I want to see Chantal in her own environment.
“What are we doin’ here, prez?” Slice asks me while he shuts off his bike and then climbs off of it.
Mack Truck is smiling and I’m thinking he knows why I’m here. “Prez has a new love. We finally got ourselves a First Lady!” He sings out.
