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After leaving the FBI field office, Ron originally planned to drive over to Dom's garage, hoping to catch up with Hector and the other skilled drivers who had a good relationship with Dom. He wanted to talk about car modifications and maybe scope out some new talent.
But he ended up walking into a diner in Brooklyn, suddenly realizing he was starving.
Ron lingered outside the restaurant for several minutes, making sure Caroline wasn't working inside before entering. His dark-haired, curvy waitress was the only one serving customers, dealing with Max, who was being harassed by a group of overly demanding hipsters dressed in vintage Western wear.
Actually, "harassed" might be too strong—they were just being incredibly pretentious and high-maintenance.
"I want a mixed green salad. Instead of iceberg lettuce, I'll have arugula. Instead of tomatoes, I'll have more arugula. I want everything steamed, and I'll use fresh lemon juice instead of dressing. Why aren't you writing this down?"
Before Max could respond with what was surely going to be a cutting retort, Ron interjected, "Eating all that rabbit food, what are you, a thoroughbred? But I don't think you can handle the kind of work a real horse can do. So I suggest you show some respect, or that guy over there practicing Buddhism will tell you that in your next life you'll come back as a donkey, grinding grain all day while everyone calls you a jackass."
Ron's words were absolutely vicious, but as a paying customer, he had every right to speak up. His expensive suit and confident demeanor immediately made the pretentious hipsters back down.
Americans are nothing if not practical—they instantly retreat when they encounter someone they can't afford to mess with.
"Ron!" Max called out in surprise, but immediately suppressed her excitement and put on a cold expression. "You know, after I woke up this morning and found you gone, there was a stack of cash on the nightstand. I thought I'd struck it rich as a high-end escort. So why are you back? How much are you paying this time, big spender?"
Ron immediately heard the deep resentment behind her sarcastic joke and quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Max, I was wrong. I shouldn't have left without saying goodbye, but you know my job requires me to disappear sometimes. It's just the nature of federal work. How have you been?
Why are you still the only one working in this place? Is your cheapskate boss too stingy to hire another person to help you out?"
Sometimes when women are angry with you, all they really want is an explanation—no matter how lame it might be. Women in love don't really care about logic, which is why scumbags like Ron get away with so much.
"Actually, he did hire another Barbie doll who can't do anything useful, but she's turned into my personal problem. Now she's not only living at my apartment, but she came with a horse as some kind of package deal. What do you want to eat?"
Ron nodded thoughtfully. It sounded like Caroline had already moved in with Max, bringing Chestnut along. The horse had been Caroline's beloved companion since Ron first met her, her favorite way to get around the city.
Ron's favorite rides were Max and Caroline.
Ron found a booth and sat down. "Whatever's good, just make sure my food doesn't go through the hands of that line cook who looks like he hasn't seen soap in a week."
"Then I recommend the apple pie. It comes straight from the freezer to the microwave. I guarantee it's untouched by human hands."
Before Max could walk away, Ron stopped her and read from the small chalkboard behind the counter. "And one slice of the world's most amazing Max's homemade cupcake. Make it vanilla."
"Ugh!" Max slapped her forehead. "I forgot to erase that."
"Why would you? I think it's perfect. I mean, for marketing purposes, it'll get your name out there. It's a great start," Ron advised.
"You sound exactly like that blonde Barbie doll!" Max exclaimed in surprise. "I'm starting to wonder if you two have known each other forever—you say the exact same things."
"Maybe it's just a typical business school mindset. I graduated from Harvard Business School." Ron guiltily averted his gaze from Max's impressive cleavage and changed the subject.
"You're not going to tell me I'm afraid of success, are you?" Five minutes later, Max brought Ron his apple pie. "Do you know what happened to the last blonde Barbie who said that?"
"What happened?"
"While she was giving me her little pep talk, she fell face-first into her prize horse's manure, and wouldn't you know it, our building's water got shut off today. Won't be back on until three this afternoon."
"Ha!" Ron couldn't help laughing at the mental image of Caroline covered in horse manure. "So what happened? Is that why she's home waiting for the water to come back so she can shower instead of coming to work?"
"Of course not. She's out there right now trying to find some fancy bakery that will let me sell my cupcakes on consignment. Tell me, is she completely insane?" After serving the other tables, Max finally had a moment to bring Ron his order.
"I don't think she is," Ron tried the apple pie—thankfully, it tasted normal. "Max, listen to me. You can't be a diner waitress for the rest of your life, right?"
"Maybe this really is an opportunity—a chance for you to break free from your current situation. Your cupcakes are absolutely delicious, better than anything I've had at five-star hotel afternoon teas."
"That spoiled princess I picked up off the street said the same thing."
Max's expression softened slightly, and Ron quickly pressed his advantage. "See? Everyone thinks you can make it. Why not give it a shot? If you're willing, I'd love to be your angel investor. This could make us both a lot of money down the road!"
"How is that even possible? I don't believe it myself." Max still lacked confidence.
"Max, you need to trust my business instincts. You know I've never missed on any of my investments. Ever heard of Bubba Gump Shrimp Company? I'm a major shareholder. Plus, I just bought into Tesla.
Actually, I just had a brilliant idea. Maybe I can get you your first big contract. How would you feel about having your cupcakes become the official afternoon snack at Tesla? Since I'm a shareholder, I can definitely make that recommendation."
Ron looked Max straight in the eye, speaking with complete seriousness.
Musk might be an egomaniac like himself—a notorious hype man—but at least he treated his employees well. His companies always provided premium snacks during breaks.
If he could help Max land this contract, it might really give her the foothold she needed to succeed.
(End of Chapter)
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