"Look", replies Jason, "we pay him a small slice, he gets to fuck us, and the biggest reason of all.he enjoys violence. But good." He continued, " He saved our skins last year when these hot guys didn't want to pay for the stuff and we'ed have been dead meat now if Richie hadn't taken them out". He went on:"Richie's bailed us out before when things have gone pair-shaped. And Richie's our insurance anyway", Jason replied. Tam'll probably pay us what he owes us for the job and we'll be on our way to Richie's. "Do you think there'll be trouble, Jase?", asked Gary. Jason had on a white track suit, trainers, and baseball cap whilst Gary had a pair of old jeans, sweat shirt, and ankle boots.They both stood at the bar in that conspiratorial and furtive way people do when they're saying or doing something they don't want to be seen doing or saying. They were dressed practically because of what the night might have in store: fight or flight. They were both of average height, slim, athletic and tanned. When there was a need there was always Richie. They even did a bit of debt collecting if it was unlikely there would be a need for really heavy stuff. Jason and Gary were a couple of young hotshots with a talent for thieving procuring goods and services demanded by that great market known as 'the street': drugs cars cigarettes alcohol. "Bud', mate", replied Gary, "we may as well have a couple since Richie's late as usual". "What are you for?", Jason asked Gary as they stood at one of the bars. This mid-week evening in November was still relatively quiet many of the patrons were the usual gay clientele but with a substantial coterie of straights, or 'civilians' as Jason called them. The marble collonades and the grandeur of the high ceilings, with their elaborate stucco-work, belied this establishment's reputation as one of Glasgow's most popular gay clubs. Note : This story is completely fictional!