=== Friendly warning: This story includes piss play ===
*****
It's never easy starting a new business - even when you know exactly, what you're doing. But I felt confident anyway. My father was an excellent mechanic. He taught me how to repair cars and bikes as well - so well, that at the age of twenty-five, I was confident enough to move out of my hometown to the growing city in development right next to us and start my new life. My financial options were good, the location and timing for a new business seemed perfect... The only thing necessary for me was to get used to how things work in the big city.
I remember I spent a long time in my soon-to-be new shop, cleaning, renovating, preparing everything. I fell in love with the place as soon as I bought it - I knew I could make some good business out of it, just like my father did in my hometown. It was hard work and I had to do most of it myself, but the motivation was driving me to get up and get to it each morning. And it was paying off.
One time when I was hanging out the sign outside - for which I paid good money to a designer - I saw a guy eyeing the sign from the sidewalk. A potential customer? It was never too soon to start with marketing - even though I wasn't open yet. I was already done with the sign so I slid down the ladder and faced the guy with a smile.
"Hey there!" I said, cheerfully and offered my hand, "I see my shop caught your interest. Is there anything I could help you with?"
He seemed surprised, almost startled by my friendliness. I guess the city people weren't used to so much contact with strangers on the street - I might need to adjust to that. Nevertheless, after the initial shock, he was friendly enough.
"Hey, yeah... No, I was just interested what was going on, since I live, like, right around the corner. I don't own any kind of vehicle I would need to repair."
"Oh, that's fine," I responded, feeling a little stupid for a second. Then a thought occurred to me... maybe I could at least get some information out of this guy, if not business.
"Say..." I began with a quieter tone, "You can probably tell I'm not from around these parts. I'm new to the city and to be honest, I don't really know how things run around here. I've seen lots of movies... I know that in areas like this, someone usually pulls the strings. Could you tell me if there is anyone I should keep my eyes open for?"
The guy measured me with a suspicious look at first, then looked around and then finally answered.
"Actually, yeah. This part of town, as well as some parts adjacent to it, are the Triple B area. Triple B is a motorcycle gang that basically runs the shit around this place. If they like somebody, nobody fucks with that somebody. And if they don't... well, you can probably guess what happens."
"I see," I nodded. This was valuable information. So a motorcycle gang, huh? That could play well with my business... Unless they already had a favorite mechanic and I would be a competition for that favorite. That wouldn't be good at all...
"What do you know about them?"
"All I know is that they're loud, nasty and they take no one else's shit," the guy continued, "Heard people saying that they're fair though if you're open to discuss business."
"Interesting. Do you think I should approach them?"
The guy shrugged.
"I don't know, man. But it would probably be better to see them before they see you, if you know what I mean. They usually hang out at this sleazy bar a couple blocks from here, it's like their personal hangout. I can give you the directions, but that's really all I should tell you, man."
I got the directions out of him and thanked him a thousand times. This was all so priceless. These guys sounded a little bit on the rougher side, but I was sure I could make some good connections with them. Or at least I had to try. For the business.
The Friday night after that, I decided to take action. I got my leather jacket, my old denim and two big jugs of my fathers famous moonshine and set off to the streets. I followed the directions the guy gave me and as I did, the streets got sketchier and sketchier. Just when I was considering turning back, I found it. A little joint at the end of the street without a name. It was the only place where the lights were still on. Loud rock music was blasting from that bar and I heard screams of laughter, fists banging on the tables and clinking of glasses. The atmosphere seemed to be good...
I took a big breath and braces myself for the potential disaster this could bring. Here goes nothing, I said to myself, as I knocked on the door.
A little peeping hole on the top opened and I saw a pair of big, mean eyes staring me down.
"Private event," he said with a resolute tone and was about to close the peephole.
"Wait!" I stopped him, "I know. I'm here to talk to... the gang."
"Really? Are you?" he raised his eyebrows. His eyes ran me up from top to the bottom and saw the jugs of booze in my hands.
"Just some gifts," I said, my mouth feeling a little bit drier, "And a warm hello from a new neighbor."
The man hesitated from a while and then I heard the door being unlocked and opened. A huge puff of smoke came out and I was being let inside. My heart jumped. This was the last chance to run away... But I didn't.
I stepped inside. It was probably the sleaziest pub I've ever been to. The tables looked about a hundred years old, there was dust everywhere and there were random cracks and holes in the walls, along with various metal band posters and graffiti.
Aside from that, the place was filled with about fifteen bikers, all of them probably able to take me down in a fight easily. They were all big, bearish brutes - most of them hairy from their head to toe, wearing tons of leather - which couldn't have been comfortable in this hot little pub - metal chains around their necks, leather boots on their feet, even with knives, chains and guns attached to their belts. As soon as I came in, everyone stopped whatever they were doing and turned to me. It would be the most ominous silence if it weren't for the radio blasting the hard rock from above.
The atmosphere was dense and they probably smelled something fishy. A random new guy, showing up to their private place on a Friday night? I don't think they were used to having many outside guests around here.
I gotta say something, I thought, before they take action.
"Hey guys," I said, my voice shaky as hell, "I was just walking by, wanted to say 'hi' to the neighborhood..."
"Who the fuck are you," the nearest one barked at me. He had to be at least six feet and he had a big tattoo of something in Japanese on his bald head.
"I... let me introduce myself. My name is Lance, and I just set up a small repair shop a couple streets away from here. That's why I thought I'd let you know... if you needed something, an emergency repair or anything like that, I'm open to discounts-"
"What you got there in those jugs, boy?"
The one who interrupted me was probably the biggest and oldest from the bunch. He was sitting in the front of a table in the back, with a scar next to his eye and a big white beard hanging off from his chin. He must have been in his late fifties, although his shoulders suggested he could easily take down two thirty year olds at once. I assumed he was the leader.
"Oh... this is just some of my father's famous moonshine. I thought you guys would appreciate it."
"Bring that shit over here," he gestured me to come closer with his hand wrapped around in leather gloves. I meekly passed by all the other scary looking beasts and dove deep into the bar. Although I was struggling to hold both of the jugs in my hands, the leader took it away from me with a one, clean swing, opened it and smelled the content of it.
I watched his eyes grow wide and his teeth show in a deep chuckle.
"Fuck!" he laughed as his fist banged the table, "Your dad is a wild motherfucker. Some sit next to me, boy! And Bruce, you bring us some shot glasses!"
The atmosphere lightened up significantly after that. After the gang saw that the leader accepted my presence, everybody got much friendlier. I took the seat right by the Polar Bear - that's how he introduced himself to me - and got into discussion with him, as we dove into the moonshine.
"So you repair bikes, huh?" the Polar Bear put his arm around me as he was talking to me, nearly pushing me out of me chair. I smelled his strong scent from up close - booze, sweat and leather.
"Yes sir," I nodded and finished my glass. Seemed like not even my father's moonshine was enough to satisfy these brutes - the first hug was almost empty in about a half hour and nobody seemed very tipsy from it. "And I think I'm pretty good at it. If you need anything, just stop by and we can take a look at what's troubling you."
"I like your attitude, kid. You show respect. We know how to appreciate good boys like you," he said to me. He was giving me a smile, and so were the others - along with a couple of winks.
"I'll do my best to show my proper respect, Polar Bear," I said sheepishly as I realized his arm wasn't going anywhere from my shoulders.
"Good," he nodded, "If you're a good boy, we'll stay on the side of your business. No one's gonna fuck with you or give you any trouble. You gotta remember to keep an open mind, though. When a Triple B member stops by needing your services, we expect you to help out... one way or the other."
"Of course, sir. By the way... hope you don't mind me asking, but what does the 'Triple B' mean, exactly?"
He grinned at me, showing his toothy smile.
"Oh... You'll find out soon enough, my boy."
"Okay," That made me a little uneasy but the booze was already doing its job and the more pressing manner was me needing to go take a piss.
"Sorry, Polar Bear," I turned to him, "But could you let go just for a minute? I need to go take a leak."
