Page 20 of Taming the Bear
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.
