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In Los Angeles, right across the street from a small shop called Toretto's Café, sat another place with a much cheesier name—the Cheese Factory.
Inside the Cheese Factory, a man named Ron sat by the window, pretending to eat while his eyes stayed fixed on the café across the street.
Every now and then, waitresses passed his table, pretending to clean while slipping him napkins with phone numbers. Their smiles weren't subtle—if anything, they were practically ready to throw themselves at him.
It wasn't surprising.
Ron was ridiculously handsome. His features were sharp but refined, his perfectly tailored suit highlighted a lean, athletic build, and the gold Rolex on his wrist hinted at old money and quiet power. He looked like a model straight out of a luxury magazine.
Across the street, chaos broke out.
A huge man in a red tank top stormed out of Toretto's Café, chasing after a guy in a black T-shirt.
"From now on, eat your burgers somewhere else! McDonald's has a two-dollar special—go there!"
"I like the tuna sandwich here!" the black-shirted guy shot back.
"Bullshit! Nobody likes that crap!"
"Well, I do!"
The argument escalated fast. The tank-top guy lunged, slammed the other man against a truck, and the two started trading punches.
Typical LA hotheads, Ron thought. They'll fight over anything.
People in the Cheese Factory crowded to the window, phones out, eager to film the brawl. So much for Americans being "reserved," Ron mused. Everyone loved a good show.
Before it got out of hand, a tall, bald man with a commanding presence walked out of the café, flanked by his crew.
"He started it, Dom!" the black-shirted guy yelled.
"No, I started it!" the bald man snapped, glaring at the guy in red. "Vince, stop showing off—you're embarrassing me in front of the whole neighborhood!"
As the crowd dispersed, Ron's eyes sharpened. The man he'd been waiting for had finally appeared.
Dominic Toretto.
Ron folded his napkin neatly, stood up, and waved to the blonde waitress watching him dreamily."Excuse me, beautiful. Could you hold my table for me? And keep an eye on my luggage? I just saw a friend across the street."
The waitress blinked. He looked too polished to skip out on a bill, but she still hesitated.
Ron smiled. "Your name's Penny, right? I can pay first if you're worried."
She blushed. "No need—I trust you. But if that 'friend' is Toretto, be careful. He's got a reputation. Every street racer in LA answers to him."
"Don't worry," Ron said with a grin. "We go way back."
Penny looked him up and down—custom suit, polished shoes—then at Dom's five-dollar tank top from Walmart. Yeah right, she thought. Those two? Friends?
But under her anxious gaze, Ron walked straight out of the café, waved, and called out across the street.
"Hey, Dom! Long time no see, buddy! Haven't seen you since Lompoc!"
Toretto froze, then turned. His eyes went from confusion to fury in a heartbeat.He charged, grabbed Ron by the collar, and slammed him into a truck.
"Oh my God!" Penny gasped, reaching for her phone.
"It's fine," Ron said calmly. "We're old friends. This is just… how he says hello."
"You really want to rough me up in front of this beautiful lady, Dom? Not very classy."
Toretto growled.
"I told you to stay away from my sister! You broke Mia's heart—you're no family of mine!"
Ron didn't flinch. "Dom, you know Mia and I ended on good terms. And I helped you, remember? Without me, you'd still be doing two years in Lompoc."
Toretto's grip loosened. The name Lompoc brought back bad memories—memories of being completely outplayed by Ron.
He'd been arrested for assault, and somehow, Ron—then freshly promoted to a special IRS task force—had shown up with a deal. When Dom refused, Ron hadn't hurt him physically, but mentally? He'd broken him. Deprived him of comfort, messed with his thoughts, and played mind games until Dom finally cracked.
By the fifth day, Toretto surrendered—and though they'd later worked together, Dom never forgot that psychological hell.
"Yeah, you helped me too," Dom admitted, lowering Ron to the ground. "Alright, we're even. So what do you need this time?"
Ron smiled. "Relax. You're not the target today. We're after a drug dealer. Calls himself Heisenberg."
"Since when does the IRS chase drug dealers? Isn't that DEA business?" Dom asked.
At the next table, Penny froze. IRS? Her stomach dropped. I'm not behind on my taxes… right?
Ron brushed some dust off his jacket. "We don't care what people sell. We care if they're paying taxes on it. That's my department."
Then he leaned closer.
"By the way, Dom… you have been paying your taxes, right?"
Toretto's eyes widened. "Of course! I even filed returns for some of my… less legal income. Don't bust me for that!"
"That's what I like to hear," Ron said, patting his head with mock affection. "Remember, anyone who pays taxes is a taxpayer—and this is a capitalist country. If those dealers just paid their full share, we could probably legalize their business."
Dom sighed. He wanted to punch this guy so badly—but Ron had helped him before. Better to stay on his good side.
After wrapping things up, Ron returned to the Cheese Factory, finished his meal, and called Penny over to settle the bill. He even left a generous tip.
Penny smiled, leaning in a little.
"Come back soon, handsome. I'd love to see you around more."
"Trust me," Ron said with a grin, "your wish is about to come true."
She tilted her head. "You asking me out? I get off in half an hour. You could wait at your friend's café—"
"That might be awkward," Ron said. "And besides, you're moving after work, right?"
Her eyes widened. "How do you know that? Are you investigating me? Look, I filed my taxes, I just—"
Ron laughed. "Relax! I'm not investigating you. Everyone's got to pay taxes—that's normal."
Penny exhaled in relief. "Then how did you know I was moving?"
"Well," Ron said with a teasing smile, "if your old roommate was a 200-pound cop who liked to cross-dress, then congratulations—you just met your new one. The landlord told me to find you here."
Her jaw dropped. Living with a man this hot? Was she dreaming?
"You didn't come here just for me, did you?" she asked, smiling flirtatiously.
"Of course not," Ron replied. "I'm also here because of your neighbors."
"Neighbors?" she blinked. "What, are they famous?"
"Just a couple of nerds," Ron said casually. "My mom heard I was coming to LA and told me to check in on my hopeless little brother.Anyway—Ron Cooper. Nice to meet you. Mind helping me with my luggage?"
He handed her the suitcase. It was so heavy, she nearly lost her balance.
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