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"Bottom line is what I told you—you're being hunted. You better watch your six. I'm working drug cases and don't have time to babysit you. So were you behind those recent truck heists?" Ron finally got his confirmation.
By now, the car had pulled up to the small diner where the two had met last time.
Toretto got out behind Ron, his voice firm. "Yeah, we did it. We were responsible for the hijackings, then we fenced the merchandise through those Korean guys. The ones you met today. I'm planning two more jobs and then I'm out."
"That's your call," Ron shrugged. "But next time, you better not bring any strangers into the fold. You know the FBI's playbook. It's nothing but planting undercover agents in your crew, then taking you all down once they have solid evidence.
Anyway, I've spent enough time with you tonight. I'm starving. I need to grab some food. Later, Dom."
With that, Ron headed into the diner. It was close to Toretto's place, which was why he'd chosen it as their meeting spot last time. Dom could easily walk home from here.
It was around one in the morning, and the diner was empty except for a good-looking, muscular white guy at the counter. He seemed to be hitting on the waitress who'd left a deep impression on Ron last time, but it was more like harassment.
"Hey, you're bothering me while I'm trying to work. Because of you, I spilled water all over the floor. Now please move—I need to get a towel."
Instead of moving, the white guy cornered the busty, dark-haired waitress at the end of the counter, pulling some kind of wall-lean move, but then he started pulling his shirt up and off, revealing his ripped abs and V-cut.
"It's cool, let me handle this." He crouched down, wiped the floor with his shirt a couple times, and when he stood up, his bare chest was practically pressed against the waitress.
"Hey, I'm Robbie."
"Hey! I'm the girl who's gonna be sick if I look at you any longer,"
Ron interrupted in frustration. Max, who'd been looking a bit dazed, suddenly snapped back to attention. "I'm wondering if the restaurant's still open? Can I still get some food? As long as it's from a clean kitchen, not from this disgusting creep."
Ron pointed at the jerk. "Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you, buddy. If you don't work here and don't want any trouble, you better get out of my sight."
He reached into his jacket and patted his waist with his other hand. A bulge appeared there, the unmistakable shape of a gun. The white guy got so scared he bolted without another word.
This wasn't some upscale area like Beverly Hills—plenty of crazy people roaming around at night. He didn't want to get shot over trying to pick up girls.
Ron lifted his jacket. Where was the gun? Just his hand shaped like a pistol. He pretended to fire a shot at the guy's retreating back, humming to himself, "Bang!"
"Hahaha..."
The waitress burst out laughing. Ron turned to her. "So, we got any food here? As compensation for accidentally scaring off your customer, I'll double the tip, deal?"
"Deal. Even though the kitchen's closed, we're still technically open. What would you like? Since you're cute enough, I can whip something up myself. Or if you're really hungry, you could try one of the homemade cupcakes. I make them myself."
The waitress took the opportunity to walk over from the corner of the counter with a menu.
"Anything's fine. I'm hungry enough to eat a horse right now." Ron glanced down and saw the waitress's name tag. "Thanks, Max. I just need something to fill me up."
"I know you're using the name tag as an excuse to check out my rack, but consider it a bonus for helping me ditch that pain-in-the-ass customer. Getting a good look?"
Max gave Ron a flirtatious look.
"Not enough, never enough," Ron said dramatically.
"Vanilla cupcake?" Max brought him a small cake and set it on the counter. Her hair accidentally brushed Ron's cheek, carrying a sweet scent just like the cake itself.
Holy hell! This woman was incredibly seductive, especially for Ron, who hadn't been with anyone in way too long. He felt himself getting worked up.
"Hey, am I being played with here?" Ron swore Max was doing it on purpose!
Wait! Max?
Ron studied the gorgeous woman more carefully, thinking about the delicious homemade cupcake. No wonder he'd noticed her so much last time. She seemed so familiar, and it wasn't just her looks.
He finally figured it out: this was Max from 2 Broke Girls! And the waitress who'd served him last time, with that slight accent, must be the unseen Eastern European woman working in the kitchen from the early episodes.
No wonder he couldn't place it at the time. Of course, there was another reason: the restaurant in the original "2 Broke Girls" was set in Brooklyn, while this was Los Angeles. He hadn't made the connection initially.
"Of course I was teasing you. I already gave you the eye candy I saved you from earlier. Now this is payback for ruining my romantic evening. So, you gonna make it up to me?"
Max didn't back down at all. Instead, she leaned even closer, almost pressing against Ron, and whispered near his ear.
"You know what they say—if you chase away someone's prey, you gotta compensate them. Pretty boy, you ready to pay up?"
Ron could see right down Max's low-cut top.
Was this really happening? Even though Ron had been here long enough to know about America's more relaxed attitudes, he was caught off guard for a moment.
So what just happened wasn't harassment at all, but Max playing hard to get? So tonight he'd get not just a midnight snack, but dessert too?
Ron smiled mischievously and slowly unbuttoned the top button of his shirt: "Absolutely no problem, but I don't know if my compensation will satisfy you."
Max didn't say anything, just wrapped her arms around Ron's neck and kissed him.
...
An hour later, after their passionate encounter, Max sat up on the counter: "God, you're incredible, like a wild animal! What's your name?"
"Ron Lee Cooper, happy to be of service," Ron said, helping Max down from the counter with a gentlemanly kiss on her hand: "But this wild animal is now hungrier than before. You better get me something to eat, or I might not be able to help myself from devouring you again.
You know, you're as delicious and tempting as your homemade cupcakes."
Ron hugged Max from behind and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.
Max still wasn't satisfied: "Maybe we should change venues first—how about my place?"
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