Page 19 of Taming the Bear
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 make 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.
