Chapter 5

The rep, Jake was introduced to as Steve, was sent upstairs with a strategy of telling the wimp that someone had keyed his truck but that Steve’s brother had the guy in a choke hold down by his truck and would keep him held down until the truck owner decided what to do with him.

Steve found the guy right where Jake had told them he would be—drinking a cold coffee. “You own the white dually, don’t you? Is it a company truck?” Steve asked him out of the blue.

Intimidated by Steve’s presence, wondering if there was a connection between the guy he splashed on the pass and this biker. Scared shitless, trying to act tough, he did the only thing his reptilian brain could think of. He answered the question.

“No, it is my truck. I own it! Outright too. No loan even.” The chump was proud of his truck and smiling. The idiot was not smiling for the same reason Steve was. This was going to be great!

Steve asked what his name was. “Kevin, Kevin Weadles.” “Come with me, Kevin Weadles. Let’s go teach this asshole a lesson.” Steve slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to hurt a larger man. It almost knocked Kevin to his knees. Steve pushed him towards the stairs, laughing, making it appear like he liked his new best friend.

Steve was the politician of the chapter. He could charm anyone was the general consensus.

Steve walked Kevin right into the middle of his five, black leathered, three-piece vested brothers and Jake. Jake’s back had been towards Kevin as he was brought into the group.

Kevin saw him now as he had turned to see every face around him.

Kevin’s blood withdrew from his face, head, and brain. He went past ghost white to translucent.

Jake stated, not questioned, “You remember me.” Kevin began to shake his head in the negative. The bikers, as if choreographed, each took a step forward, leaving minimal light between their shoulders. All were now standing over Kevin.

The average height of the group being six foot two, and the president is the shortest at five foot ten. He was standing beside Jake’s six foot. Kevin stood five feet seven, and he started shaking. The brothers could smell the fear wafting off him.

Jake was expecting to see a piss stain start in his crotch.

Pres spoke, growled out, “Don’t fucking lie to him! To any of us. Do you understand?” Through his shaking, the wimp nodded his head.

Jake barked, “You remember me!” This time Kevin was nodding his head in the affirmative. He kept nodding.

Again Jake barked, “You were laughing as you drove by!”

Kevin burst into tears, and then he did piss himself. The guys took a step back in disgust.

Kevin was still nodding his head.

One of the crew had broken into Kevin’s truck before they summoned him, where he found the truck insurance and transfer papers. The same brother happened to have some blank transfer papers with him and has already filled in the sales receipt for selling the truck to one James, Elder of Pt. Renfrew, BC.

James was an old club hang-around who would do what was required with minimal questions.

Jake spoke again, through his obvious disgust, “As an ex of mine used to say, you’re nothing but a little dink, big truck asshole. As a matter of fact,” Jake was pointing at the obvious piss stain on the front of wimps pants, “I don’t think you deserve the keys to a truck like that, do you?” Kevin wasn’t even looking at Jake anymore. His eyes were glued to the floor. He was a terrified, broken man.

Jake barked again, “Do you!” the wimp just whimpered. He kept nodding his head. Jake responded with, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jake reached forward to slap the guy under his chin to get him to lift his head while demanding he did, “Head up, mother fucker and listen to me!” Kevin’s head was up. He was looking at Jake and wanted to piss himself again. He started to crumble.

Jake stepped forward to keep him from falling to the floor. He held him up with one hand grabbing his tee shirt, and slapped him with the other. A girl slap. He just wanted him aware of what was happening—a slap to wake him up. Kevin was looking at Jake again with awareness in his eyes.

Jake continued, “Since you agree with me, my associate over there,” Jake pointed out the truck lock aficionado, who was handing over a pen and the transfer form for the sale of his truck, for signature.

The wimp didn’t hesitate. He took the proffered pen and paper. He held the paper in the flat of his hand as he scratched out some form of his signature. One of the guys behind Kevin snatched his wallet from his back pocket.

The pickpocket and the brother beside him withdrew from the group, and in seconds there were flashes of light. Phone camera flashes. The two were photographing the contents of the punk’s wallet.