Chapter 1: Toretto Café and the Cheesecake Factory
In Los Angeles, two small shops stood across the street from each other — one called Toretto Café, the other, The Cheesecake Factory.
By the window inside the Cheesecake Factory, Ron was picking at his food absentmindedly, his attention fully focused on the café across the street.
As if on cue, servers would "casually" pass by, their gazes lingering longingly on his face, often leaving little notes with their numbers under the excuse of wiping tables. The interest was blatant, as if they were ready to undress him on the spot.
But this wasn't surprising.
Ron was exceptionally handsome — his sharp features and chiseled jawline gave him a rugged charm, and the perfectly tailored suit he wore highlighted his athletic physique, like a modern Adonis stepped straight out of Greek mythology.
A glint of gold from the luxury watch peeking out from his sleeve added to his aura — the unmistakable look of a high-society elite.
Suddenly, outside the café, a burly man in a red tank top came chasing after a tall, good-looking guy in a black T-shirt.
"From now on, you're eating burgers! Just $2.95 for a double cheeseburger and fries, you damn pansy!"
The guy in black turned and replied coolly,
"I like the tuna sandwich here."
"Bullshit! Nobody likes the tuna!"
"Well, I do."
The pretty boy shot back, walking toward his truck. The red-tank-top guy, clearly furious, charged at him, wrapped his arms around his waist, and slammed him into the vehicle. They started wrestling right there on the sidewalk.
Is everyone in America this hot-blooded? Fighting over food?!
Customers at the Cheesecake Factory quickly whipped out their phones, recording the brawl from every angle. The area around Ron's window seat grew crowded in an instant.
"And they say only Chinese people love a spectacle," Ron muttered. "Lies — Americans are just as bad."
Luckily, before the scuffle escalated, a very intimidating bald man burst out of the café with a few of his guys and broke it up.
The guy in black was pushed against a car and shouted,
"He started it, coming at me all aggressive!"
"Well now I'm coming at you!" the bald man barked, pointing at the red tank-top guy. "Cut it out! You're embarrassing me!"
As the fight died down and the onlookers dispersed, Ron's eyes lit up.
The man he had been waiting for had finally appeared.
Dominic Toretto.
Ron dabbed his mouth with a napkin and waved over a dazed blonde waitress who had clearly been eyeing him the whole time.
"Hey, gorgeous. Can you save my food and watch my bags? I just spotted an old friend and want to say hello — but don't worry, I'll be back to finish eating."
The waitress — Penny — eyed him skeptically, her not-so-bright brain working hard to assess whether this man looked like the dine-and-dash type.
Ron thought she looked oddly familiar. He glanced at her name tag and confirmed it.
"You're Penny, right? If you're worried I might skip out on the bill, I can pay now."
"No need," Penny smiled. "I trust you. You can settle up after. But if your so-called 'friend' is Toretto across the street… I'd be careful."
"Oh?" Ron raised an eyebrow.
"He's kind of a big deal around here. Every street racer in L.A. listens to him."
Penny's inner fangirl kicked in, and she genuinely looked concerned for the handsome man in front of her.
"Relax. We're very good friends," Ron replied with a warm smile.
Friends? Penny thought, eyeing Ron's expensive custom suit and then looking across the street at Toretto's $5 tank top.
These two? Friends? Yeah, right.
Almost as if to prove his words, Ron stepped out of the restaurant, waved across the road, and called out,
"Hey, Dom! Long time no see, buddy! It's been forever since Lompoc!"
Toretto's head snapped toward the voice. The moment he saw Ron, his eyes turned blood-red with rage. Like a raging bull, he charged, slammed Ron against a pickup truck, and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground.
"Oh my god!" Penny screamed and started pulling out her phone to call the police — only for Ron to subtly wave her off.
"Relax," he said calmly. "We really are old friends. It's just that Dom has… a unique way of saying hello."
"Toretto, you're seriously going to embarrass me in front of a beautiful woman like this?
Come on… We are family~"
"I warned you," Toretto growled. "Stay away from my sister! From the moment you broke her heart, you stopped being my family — you became my enemy."
Ron scratched his nose awkwardly, still completely unfazed.
"Dom, you know Mia and I broke up peacefully. And don't forget — I helped you. Without me, you'd still be locked up in Lompoc."
Hearing the name Lompoc, Toretto visibly flinched, as memories of sheer terror returned.
"You tormented me…" he muttered, his voice losing its earlier force.
Years ago, after a fight landed Toretto in jail, he had been unexpectedly released by Ron — newly appointed as the Special Task Force Captain under the IRS — under the pretense of "cooperation."
Toretto refused at first… and then came the most harrowing week of his life.
Not physical torture — no, Ron never laid a hand on him.
Instead, he subjected Dom to psychological torment, wielding strange, mystic Eastern "methods" that had been air-shipped in for the job…
When he was hungry, the only thing to eat was five-nut mooncakes; when thirsty, the only drink available was bitter herbal soda. By the fifth day, he caved.
Though they did form a strong bond during the missions that followed, the ordeal left a deep psychological scar on Toretto.
To him, Ron wasn't human. He was a devil in a suit.
"You did help me out that time," Toretto finally softened, setting Ron back on the ground. "Fine, let's call it even. Just stay away from my sister. Now, what do you want this time?"
"Relax," Ron said with a grin. "You're not the target this time. I'm after a drug dealer who goes by the codename Heisenberg."
"Wait, since when does the IRS go after drug dealers? Isn't that the DEA's job?"
IRS?
Penny couldn't believe it. The refined, elegant man she'd just been swooning over was from the most ruthless federal agency in America. She instinctively shivered.
Wait a minute… I didn't forget to file my taxes, did I?
"We don't care about the drugs," Ron said, distastefully peeling off his now-wrinkled suit jacket. "Whether the business is legal or not—that's for the FBI or CIA to worry about. I'm here for one reason: the bastard hasn't paid his taxes."
"By the way, Toretto…"
The bald man tensed up again.
"You haven't been evading taxes lately, have you?"
Toretto shook his head vigorously.
"No, absolutely not! Even the sketchy deals I've done recently—I've already filed the tax forms! You're not gonna arrest me again over this, right?"
"Good boy." Ron patted him on the shoulder. "See? Whether what you do is legal or not, that's not our concern. I won't trouble you over such a minor thing. In fact, if you ever find yourself getting harassed by another agency, come to me."
"Remember, as long as you pay your taxes, you're a taxpayer—and this is a country where capital is king. Hell, if those drug dealers had any brains, they'd pay their taxes and then lobby to legalize their business."
Ron finished his speech with a satisfied grin and kissed the top of Toretto's shiny head.
"If you hear anything, let me know. Under the IRS's new policy, informants get 30% of the recovered taxes."
"Let's say we split it… seventy-thirty."
Toretto didn't even bother to ask who got the seventy. With Ron's personality, it was obviously going to be him.
By all logic, he should've knocked Ron out right then and there—and while he was at it, settle the old score about his sister. But as Ron said, it had been a peaceful breakup. And truthfully, Ron had helped his family a lot over the years.
Why the hell is a civil servant like him running around playing spy?
Toretto shook his head and decided to keep his distance from the trouble magnet.
Meanwhile, Ron was thoroughly enjoying the perks of capitalism.
He returned to the Cheese Factory to finish his meal, then waved Penny over to settle the bill. When it came time to tip, he gave her an extra ten bucks.
Penny's eyes sparkled. "Come again soon~ I'd love to see you again."
"Trust me," Ron smiled, "you won't have to wait long."
Penny lit up. Did I just score a guy this hot that easily?
"Are you asking me out? I get off in half an hour. Maybe you could wait for me across the street at your friend's café…"
Ron chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea. If I'm not mistaken, you've got plans after your shift… like moving, right?"
Penny's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that? Have you been investigating me? My tax forms are all in order! I mean, the payment might be delayed a few days, but—"
Ron quickly reassured her.
"Relax. I haven't been investigating you. Of course, filing taxes properly is the duty of every citizen…"
Penny eased up a bit. "Then how did you know I'm moving?"
Ron smiled. "If you just so happen to be looking for a roommate… and the last tenant in your apartment was a 200-pound cross-dressing ex-cop… then I'm your new housemate. The landlord told me I'd find you here. I actually came specifically to meet you."
Living under the same roof with a guy this handsome?
Penny's heart fluttered. She extended her hand, tossing in a flirtatious wink. "Don't tell me… you came here just for me?"
"Of course not. Technically, I came because of your neighbor."
"…Neighbor?" Penny's tone dropped.
"Just a pair of shut-ins, really. But after my mom heard I was coming to L.A. for work, she made me promise to look after my idiot younger brother. Anyway, allow me to properly introduce myself—Ron Lee Cooper."
He smiled and gestured to his luggage.
"Nice to meet you. If you don't mind, could you help me carry my bags upstairs? Thanks~"
And with that, he plopped his heavy suitcase into Penny's outstretched hand. The weight nearly pulled her down with it.