Daily life of an American TV drama agent

Max had breakfast and went to work at another part-time job, while Ron had no idea of ​​going for morning exercise with Caroline. He simply washed up and drove directly to the city center.

Gower Street, not far east of the famous Hollywood Boulevard, is affected by the crazy popularity of Hollywood. The flow of people here is not much greater than that of Hollywood Boulevard. However, unlike Hollywood Boulevard, which is dominated by boutiques, this area is mainly filled with boutiques. With a wide variety of restaurants.

There are both high-end and fast food, and the taste is basically good, and Ron's goal is a restaurant here called "Brothers Fried Chicken".

The name of the store is in Spanish, and most Americans know it more or less, and Ron is certainly no exception.

He walked to the counter. In addition to the busy staff in red uniforms, there was also a black man with glasses in a yellow shirt who looked very friendly and elegant standing next to the counter.

"Do you need anything? Sir," the black man in the yellow shirt asked with a very friendly smile. He looked like a professional service person, making people feel relieved just by seeing his smile.

If the restaurant where Max and Caroline were at had such a service attitude, the little Korean would have done it long ago.

Ron put his hands on the counter carelessly: "I want to see your manager here, Gustavo Flynn. I heard someone said he can be found here."

"Sir, I am, are you dissatisfied with our service and want to complain?" the black man continued to ask kindly, as casually as Ron's neighbor chatting in Texas.

Ron's eyes couldn't help but become sharp. This man is really not simple. Even though his meth lab was blown to pieces by him yesterday, he can still play the role of a good gentleman here today.

From the outside, there is no bad mood affected by yesterday's incident. From this point of view, the city is extremely deep.

Ron took out his ID and waved it in front of Flynn: "I'm from the IRS, here to collect taxes. I think someone has already informed you, right?"

"Collecting taxes? If I remember correctly, I have already submitted the tax registration form for this quarter, and the tax for my fried chicken restaurant has been filed through an accounting firm of my relatives, and it has not been filed yet at the corporate level. season."

Flynn pushed up his glasses and continued to explain calmly while maintaining an extremely kind look, while Ron clearly felt a strong murderous aura from the moment he lowered his head.

Yes, it’s murderous! Ron was absolutely unmistakable. It was because of his keen sense of murderous intent that he had passed death countless times during his mission as an agent.

This is interesting. Ron has obviously revealed his identity, and he already knows what Ron has done. Why is he still acting now? Ron felt that this guy probably had obsessive-compulsive disorder or a performative personality.

"Of course I'm not talking about your fried chicken restaurant, but your other business." Ron smiled evilly, tapped the table with his ID, leaned forward, and used Flynn The audible voice whispered:

"It's what you did in the laundry. That's a lot of money. I can arrest you for tax evasion now, can't I?

But you don’t seem to want to let the employees here know that you want a normal life, right? I also think that ordinary people’s life is very suitable for you, but it seems that many people have lost this kind of life because of you, right? Uncle Chicken? "

Uncle Fried Chicken was the nickname given to Flynn by Ron and Hank when they were discussing the case. It meant using the fried chicken business to cover up the drug trade. Ron had checked Flynn's information, although it looked very different because of his race. He is young, but in fact he is only a few years younger than old George, so calling him Uncle is not a loss at all.

In addition, although Hank also looks very old, he is surprisingly only eight years older than Ron.

"Fried chicken package A, right? Customers choose to pay in cash. Please find a seat and wait for a moment. I will deliver it to you in person soon." Uncle Fried Chicken said without changing his expression before anyone else noticed this. After ordering the meal, he took out the change from his pocket to pay for him.

The IRS has a very bad reputation in the United States. It has always been a scam. No one has ever taken a penny out of their pockets. They only take money from other people's pockets. Flynn doesn't think he can be an exception.

"Okay, I'll wait for you over there." Ron pointed to a window seat and walked over. There was no one at the fried chicken shop in the morning, and there was no one around there. It was very empty. Suitable for talking about things.

In less than ten minutes, Uncle Fried Chicken came over with the meal he ordered for Ron: "Can I sit here?"

"Of course." Ron took the plate, ignored the fried chicken uncle sitting opposite, grabbed the fried chicken and ate it, and commented while eating:

"To be honest, this is the best fried chicken I have ever eaten since I came to Los Angeles. I really don't understand that you can become famous just by running your fried chicken business honestly. There is no need to do it. The drug business is dangerous, so what do you think?"

Uncle Fried Chicken did not answer but asked instead: "Aren't you afraid that I will poison you? Or let the gunman kill you? You know, this is my territory. It is really an unwise idea for you to come here alone. You know that I How much I want you to die now."

As he spoke, Uncle Fried Chicken made a gesture, and a small red dot appeared on Ron's temple. There was a sniper here!

"Afraid, of course I'm afraid, but you won't be able to get better even if I die." While eating, Ron gently lifted up a corner of his clothes and saw something like an electronic watch vaguely visible under his clothes, and A bunch of other messy stuff bundled together.

Ron chewed hard twice, spit out a piece of chicken bone, and smiled evilly: "The electronic bomb is bound to my heartbeat. Do you want to try how loud it is?"

Uncle Fried Chicken shook his head in embarrassment. Ron won this round.

"Everyone has the right to pursue a happier life, right?" Uncle Fried Chicken finally calmed down, changed his gestures, and the little red dot on Ron's head disappeared immediately: "And human desires are endless, Fried Chicken The profits from the chicken shop are nothing more than that from another, bigger business, aren’t even you guys keeping an eye on it?”

Although the fried chicken was delicious, it had a bit of a strong taste. Ron's mouth was dry after eating it. He grabbed the Coke next to him and took a big gulp: "You are right, but as far as I know, you don't seem to have such a big sum of money." How the flowers look like.

At least according to your neighbors, your living expenses seem to be completely consistent with the income of your fried chicken shop owner. So, what I don’t understand is, you want so much money but don’t spend it, so what do you use it for? Wouldn't it be more comfortable to sleep on it? "