Hollywood Taxes: A Tycoon in TV Land

Chapter 42 – A Chance Encounter at the Bar

When it came to drug dealers, neither Ron nor the higher-ups behind him held an ounce of sympathy. In their eyes, these people all belonged in hell.

But before sending them to their fiery end, it was only right—whether as a seasoned capitalist or a shrewd politician—to squeeze out every last drop of value from them. That was what Francis had once told Ron, and Ron had taken it to heart.

With that philosophy in mind, Ron pulled up in front of a run-down little bar. It was Hector's usual haunt. Ever since Toretto left, Ron had handed over all car maintenance and repairs to Hector. But before he even got through the door, he spotted two very familiar, very suspicious figures loitering nearby.

"Howard? Rajesh? What the hell are you two doing?"

Ron had seen a lot—life and death, betrayal and chaos. He thought he was past the point of being surprised. And yet, their current appearance made his eyes widen in disbelief.

Both of them were wearing heavy, dark eyeliner. Their hair looked like it hadn't been washed in days—wild and tangled. Most bizarre of all were the tattoos covering their arms. Ron didn't know much about Indian traditions, but he was pretty sure Jewish frowned heavily on tattoos. Had Howard completely lost it?

At this rate, his mother was going to throw him out of the house for sure.

Howard, however, greeted Ron as casually as ever, completely unbothered by his shocked expression. "Hey, Ron! What are you doing here? Don't tell me—you're one of the 'Children of the Night' too?"

"'Children of the Night'? What the hell is that?" Ron was still trying to process the situation. "And you two, looking like that—aren't you afraid your moms will beat your asses when you get home?"

Howard's face turned beet red. "I'm an adult, Ron. I don't get spanked anymore!"

Rajesh didn't miss a beat. "Personally, I don't think anyone over twenty who still eats Froot Loops counts as an adult. Especially if his mom still picks out the fruit pieces he doesn't like."

Ron turned to the wide-eyed Indian man with a smirk. "I get why Howard's here—he's trying to pick up girls. But you, Rajesh? You can't even talk to women without short-circuiting."

"Actually, I can now," Rajesh said proudly. "As long as I've had a bit of alcohol."

He looked so smug, like he'd just won a Nobel Prize. Ron vaguely remembered something like that—probably from that awkward matchmaking dinner Rajesh's parents had arranged.

"Well, looks like I missed a lot of interesting developments while I was busy," Ron chuckled. "You'll have to catch me up sometime. But the tattoos… really not your style."

Howard, grinning from ear to ear, pulled on one of his "tattooed" arms—revealing the ink to be nothing more than a fake sleeve, like a pair of fishnet stockings.

"Check it out! Tattoo sleeves. Bought them online. When I wear them, I'm a brooding creature of the night—one of the Lost Boys, irresistible to goth girls. And when I take them off, I'm back to being a rule-abiding Jew. Rajesh has a pair too. What do you think? Cool, right?"

If Ron could've found a crack in the pavement to crawl into and hide from the shame, he would've done it without hesitation.

Tattoo sleeves? They're literally just stockings.

"So let me get this straight," he muttered, rubbing his temples, "you think girls are going to sleep with you because you wore stockings on your arms?"

"Exactly! I even brought backup pairs—just in case one gets snagged on some girl's piercings or something. Want a set?" Howard offered eagerly.

Ron stared at him in disbelief. "Do I look like I need help picking up women?"

"…Fair point." Howard awkwardly pulled his offer back and turned his attention toward the bar, scanning for any potential "prey."

---

Ron absentmindedly sipped his beer. He had just received a text from Hector saying he wouldn't be coming tonight and that Ron could just leave the car keys with the bartender. That meant Ron would either have to call a cab—or worse, catch a ride home with these two clowns.

"Hey, Ron! Look over there! Two absolute bombshells!"

Howard suddenly slapped Ron's shoulder with all the excitement of a teenage boy discovering girls for the first time.

Ron swatted away the offending hand like it was some stray dog paw. Without even turning around, he replied flatly, "Yeah right. In a bar full of emo kids and pale, malnourished white dudes, how 'hot' can anyone actually be?"

"I swear, I'm not kidding! Rajesh saw them too—back me up, man!"

Rajesh nodded so hard it looked like he might give himself whiplash.

"Trust me, Ron," he said breathlessly, "One of them's blonde, blue-eyed, total sweetheart look, and legs for days—like the kind of legs men dream about. The other one? Total bombshell—curves like a goddess. I swear to God, I just saw her pop a button clean off her top from all that… uh… pressure. It was like a wardrobe malfunction straight out of heaven!"

Howard's tone was so ecstatic it reminded Ron of his childhood neighbor Billy's rooster, who would crow triumphantly every morning like he'd personally summoned the sun.

Still, Ron was intrigued. He hadn't managed to get his business done tonight, so maybe a little action at the bar wouldn't be the worst consolation prize. Though the way Howard described that pair sounded suspiciously familiar…

Ron turned to take a look—and the second he did, his whole body froze. He immediately spun back around, hunching over as discreetly as possible, trying not to be seen.

Of course.

Only in L.A.

It really was a small world. He knew those two. All too well.

Caroline and Max.

Howard, meanwhile, was frozen with awe, practically drooling. "Oh my God… they're perfect. I'd go vegan for life just to spend one night with either of them. Rajesh, did you see the one with the big—?"

Ron cut him off with a cold snort. "Trust me, if your family's appetite runs big enough... you'd better be careful."

Howard blinked. "Wait… you know her? No way! Okay, then forget it—I'll take the one with the long legs. Ron, my dearest, most charming friend… any chance you could introduce us? Just a quick hello? A name drop?"

He had finally caught on to Ron's less-than-pleased tone, but that didn't stop him from shifting tactics. Now he was trying to use Ron as a wingman.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Sorry to disappoint you, but… I know the other one too. In fact, I've known her even longer than the busty one."