pertwk Chapter 35 The Car Thief and the Dodge Charger
Chapter 35 The Car Thief and the Dodge Charger
Lin Ximeng looked in the direction the chubby boy pointed, and sure enough, there was a burger joint next door with a sign that read "All-you-can-eat". The poster on the door read "$10 per person, unlimited burgers and fries".
He gestured with his chin towards the chubby boy and said readily, "No problem, eat as much as you want."
Just kidding, I just made $100 today, so Simon Lin is very confident!
The chubby boy's eyes lit up when he heard this, and he quickly packed his things: he stuffed the sleeping bag, protective gear, and empty cans into the tattered cloth bag, not even leaving behind the cardboard sign and half a bottle of beer on the ground. He zipped it up, and all his belongings were condensed into a heavy bag.
Lin Ximeng watched him leave with his bag, and nodded inwardly:
This is what a professional homeless person is like: all their assets are carried with them, they have no ties whatsoever, they can move with just a bag, and run away with just a bucket.
As soon as the two arrived at the entrance of the hamburger shop, a male server wearing a plaid apron and with curly hair quickly came to greet them.
The hairdresser glanced at the chubby boy's stained bag and tattered clothes, then immediately reached out to stop them, her tone clearly showing disdain: "Wait, you can't go in."
"Our store does not provide free services to the homeless. If you are hungry, you can try your luck at the trash cans at the back door of the store."
The chubby boy's face flushed instantly. Ever since he became homeless, he had never voluntarily spent money at restaurants or similar places.
Because of his educational background, he felt a sense of self-awareness as a homeless person and instinctively isolated himself from these places.
Having just heard that Lin Ximeng was treating him to a meal, and having not enjoyed good food for so long, he momentarily forgot about this "isolation."
I'd have to get beaten up twice to earn $10.
The chubby boy looked at Lin Simon, somewhat at a loss.
Lin Ximeng frowned, didn't waste any words with him, and directly pulled out $20 from his pocket: "We're here to pay for a meal, not to beg. Now, apologize to my friend."
The hairdresser saw the US dollars on the table and momentarily looked embarrassed, but the embarrassment vanished in the next second, replaced by a fawning smile: "Sorry, sorry, I misspoke."
He then gestured for them to sit, saying, "There are two empty seats by the window, please feel free to come!"
Lin Ximeng ignored him, nodded to the chubby boy, and the two walked straight into the store.
After taking disposable plates, the two walked towards the food pick-up area.
This self-service burger joint is a typical family-run chain found on American streets, with separate sections for hot and cold food.
The hot spots are various burgers, freshly fried fries, onion rings, and cheese sticks.
The cold section was stocked with snacks such as desserts and cookies.
There was also a sauce station and a beverage machine standing next to it.
Lin Ximeng had just finished eating a hot dog and wasn't very hungry, so he just grabbed a bag of fries as a snack.
But the chubby boy, clearly having been hungry for a long time, picked through every hamburger he could get his hands on:
There were more than a dozen classic beef burgers, spicy chicken burgers, bacon pineapple burgers, double cheese burgers, and even smoked barbecue flavored ones. The edge of the plate was also piled with fries and onion rings. Finally, I stuffed two cans of Coke into my pocket.
Lin Ximeng raised an eyebrow: This high-oil, high-salt food, will it survive the winter on the street?
After finding a seat by the window, the chubby boy picked up a double cheeseburger and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks instantly puffing out.
After introductions, Lin Simon learned that the chubby boy's name was Jerome and that he had been a homeless person for more than half a year.
Lin Ximeng took a bite of his fries and casually asked, "Dude, do you make more money this beating-up business than collecting cans?"
Jerome swallowed the food in his mouth, took a swig of cola, and shook his head, saying, "It's just so-so. The income is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Sometimes I don't even get a beating in a day. It's just unavoidable."
Seeing Jerome shaking his head and sighing, he was clearly puzzled that no one had come to beat him up all day.
Why would anyone want to beat up someone as fair and tender as me?
Simon Lin then asked, "Then why didn't you go collect cans?"
Jerome shrugged. "I was forced into it. You know the Black Penguins on 7th Street? They practically took over the alleyways, saying they'd take 70% of my cans. How am I supposed to make any money that way?"
Another black penguin?
Simon Lin discovered that in 7th Street, almost every homeless person had to deal with this group.
Whether you like it or not, black penguins clearly impact the lives of every homeless person.
The two sat by the window, eating and chatting. Jerome completely indulged his appetite, holding a hamburger in each hand, burying his head in his food and showing it off. His cheeks were bulging out, and he didn't even bother to wipe the sauce dripping down his chin.
Lin Ximeng didn't eat much; he focused most of his attention on the motorcycle parking area across the street.
Not long after, a black man wearing a white vest and a red headscarf appeared.
A black man in a red headscarf rode a bicycle and stopped in the shadows at the street corner, glancing repeatedly toward the motorcycle.
He first pretended to tie his shoelaces, squatted down and looked around for a full half minute to make sure there were few pedestrians around and no one was paying special attention to this area, before he walked back and forth and looked around at a few motorcycles.
Soon, his eyes were fixed on a Honda CB300R.
The black man in the red headscarf looked around warily again. Seeing that no one was approaching, he quickly walked to the Honda CB300R, turned his back to the street to block the view of passersby, and began to rummage in his pockets, obviously looking for tools to pick the lock.
Lin Simon nudged Jerome, who was still devouring his food, with his elbow, and said with his lips slightly parted, "They're here. Don't make a sound. Let's get ready."
"?!" Jerome, who was still frantically eating, suddenly widened his eyes.
The black man in the red headscarf quickly produced a set of slender metal tools. He first inserted a thin wire into the lock cylinder of the motorcycle, his fingers moving and probing rapidly, while his other hand held the handlebars to stabilize the motorcycle.
Less than half a minute later, a soft "click" was heard, and the car lock opened.
Without delay, he immediately took out wire strippers, peeled off the wiring cover on the front of the car, picked out two critical wires, and twisted them together. The engine instantly emitted a deep roar.
The entire set of movements was fluid and seamless, clearly indicating a repeat offender.
The black man in the red headscarf climbed onto the motorcycle, twisted the throttle hard, and the Honda motorcycle sped off with a piercing roar, disappearing around the street corner in the blink of an eye.
Jerome nearly dropped his hamburger, his eyes wide as he muttered, "Holy crap, there really are car thieves!"
After his initial surprise, he felt relieved and thought to himself: After all, this is Los Angeles. It's not uncommon for cars to mysteriously disappear. They might just reappear in some secondhand market a few days later.
Yes, that's normal.
But before he could even process it for two seconds, Jerome put down his hamburger and looked at Simon Lin with some confusion: "He...he ran away? Didn't you stop him when you saw him? Or are you planning to chase after him now?"
Lin Ximeng didn't speak, but simply shook his head.
Jerome scratched his head, his eyes full of confusion, and muttered to himself, "I don't quite understand. You paid me to help, but then you just ran off and didn't do anything. What was the point of hiring me then? It couldn't be just to buy me a hamburger, could it?"
Lin Ximeng remained calm, slowly picking up the Coke on the table and taking a sip: "What's the rush? He'll be back by himself in a little while."
The two continued to wait in the store. Jerome picked up the fries and slowly poked at them, glancing out the window every now and then, still thinking to himself that this was unreliable.
Lin Ximeng, on the other hand, seemed much more relaxed, leaning back in his chair and slowly sipping his cola.
About five minutes later, a familiar roar of a motorcycle came from afar, accompanied by the piercing sound of a police siren.
Jerome looked up sharply and saw the Honda motorcycle from before rushing back, with the black man in the red bandana leaning on the handlebars and accelerating wildly.
Behind him, a police car—a black Dodge Charger—was hot on his heels with its siren blaring.