Hollywood Taxes: A Tycoon in TV Land

16 – If Not for Life's Pressures

Ron had stayed at Max's place until nearly 4 a.m., locked in an intense bout of passion. When he finally left, he did so with a satisfied smile and a tired body. After all, a woman like Max wasn't something you came across every day.

Of course, he didn't have to leave—but Ron didn't want to disturb Max's rest, nor his own. Given the nature of his work, he was a notoriously light sleeper. The slightest noise could wake him, sending his instincts into high alert.

And when he woke, he reached for a gun—not the playful "weapon" Max had joked about earlier, but the kind that fired real bullets and actually killed people.

But just as Ron was driving home, passing by a subway entrance, he spotted a familiar figure that made him step on the brakes.

It was someone he hadn't expected to see tonight.

"Hey! Caroline? What are you doing here?"

He rolled down the window, frowning slightly. Standing beside the subway steps, looking completely lost and disheveled, was his dear friend Caroline Channing—dragging a huge suitcase and looking like she hadn't slept in days.

Seriously?

He had just been with Max—and now Caroline shows up here? What were the odds?

But the pieces started to click.

Max had mentioned earlier that her new boss was a sweet, short Korean guy—Ron had no doubt she meant Han Lee. And judging by the timeline, this was exactly when Caroline's father, the infamous Martin Channing, was arrested for financial fraud.

Which meant this was also the point in her life when everything crashed down around her.

She had spent the night knocking on every door she could think of—former friends, old connections—but not a single one had opened. She was out of money, out of options, and emotionally wrecked.

If Ron hadn't been buried in the drug investigation recently, he probably would've seen this coming.

"Ron…" Caroline's voice cracked.

She'd been standing in the cold all night, rejected over and over. The second she saw Ron's familiar face and warm voice, her composure shattered. She ran into his arms just as he stepped out of the car.

"What happened?" Ron gently stroked her soft blonde hair, letting her cry against his chest.

"My dad… he's in trouble. Everything's gone. I don't have a penny left. Everyone's avoiding me like I've got herpes or something. And I'm too scared to sleep on the street…" she sobbed, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Ron didn't say anything. He just held her, steady and warm.

Caroline had every reason to trust him—not just because they were close friends, but because he had once been her first. The bond between them wasn't superficial.

Ron had also respected her father. Despite his crimes, Martin Channing had his own kind of twisted integrity. The two men had once shared a candid conversation:

"Ron," Martin had said, "now you know everything about my finances. Yes, it was a con. A scam aimed squarely at the rich. So… are you going to turn me in?"

Ron had replied without hesitation:

"Of course not. In fact, I think you're more honorable than the rich you conned. When they have money, they hide it behind tax havens and loopholes and never pay a damn cent. But you? You never once committed tax fraud."

It was because of that conversation—about morality, fraud, and the wealthy—that even Caroline's father, Mr. Channing, had taken a liking to Ron. In fact, Ron had once thought about visiting Mr. Channing while in Los Angeles. Who would've thought the man would end up behind bars before he got the chance?

---

"Alright, Caroline. It's been a rough night for you, but hey, at least you still have me, right? We're friends, aren't we?" Ron said, trying to comfort her while mentally figuring out where he could settle her for the night.

"I think the best thing you can do now is get some rest. Take a hot shower, get a good night's sleep. We'll deal with everything else tomorrow. Sound good?"

"I..." Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but Ron gently pressed a finger to her lips.

"Trust me. Just like you always used to."

Ron, a seasoned operative with access to generous discretionary budgets, was a VIP member at several luxury hotels. Without hesitation, he booked a room at the nearest five-star hotel and took Caroline up.

But as soon as the door closed behind them, Caroline dropped her suitcase and practically threw herself into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

"Whoa, wait, Caroline... I'm really wiped out tonight…"

Normally, Ron wouldn't have turned down a woman like Caroline—especially not when she made the first move. But tonight... he was genuinely exhausted. His time with Max had ended barely an hour ago.

"Ron… don't tell me… even you hate me now?" Caroline whispered, pulling back. Her eyes shimmered with tears.

What could Ron say to that?

"Of course not." And with that, he kissed her back.

He understood—Caroline was hanging by a thread. If he pushed her away now, who knew what she'd do? They were on the 22nd floor, after all. She was desperate for escape, for something—anything—to distract her from her crumbling world.

So Ron forced himself to stay present, to hold her, to respond to the warmth in his arms.

For the first time in his life, something that had always brought him joy… felt like hard labor.

---

Only after Caroline had finally collapsed into a deep, exhausted sleep did Ron leave a handwritten note on the nightstand and quietly slip out of the room.

"Ahhh…" he groaned, stretching beside his car in the early morning light.

It was already 6 a.m.

Not only had he not slept all night, he'd spent the entire evening doing what amounted to grueling physical work. His body was screaming.

"Man, I really need to get back in shape," he muttered. "It was just two women, and my back's already killing me…"

Still, he couldn't complain. He had scored two separate "beast mode" ratings tonight. Honestly, if he quit being a government agent and just started specializing in lonely rich women, he might hit the jackpot faster than any stock portfolio ever could.

---

"Ahhh~" A tired groan came from the other side of the parking lot.

A small figure was stretching beside a pink scooter with flame decals—one Ron recognized instantly.

That voice, that frame, even the scooter… it was all too familiar.

"Howard?" Ron called out cautiously.

Howard turned, eyes lighting up. "Ron!"

No way. Another coincidence? Ron had already run into Max and Caroline tonight. At this point, what was one more?

They spoke in unison:

"What are you doing here?"

But then Ron realized his question was redundant. He'd dumped Howard and Raj off with Hector for some party the night before. Seeing Howard outside a hotel now… well, it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"So… looks like your night was a success?" Ron teased.

But something about Howard's face gave him pause.

"Eh… I guess," Howard sighed, a mess of emotions—regret, confusion, disbelief—all warring on his face. Ron had never seen anyone make such a complicated expression before.

It reminded him of a viral video from his past life… the one with the guy who muttered, "So… I'm leaving, then?" while barely holding it together.

What had Howard been through?

The answer came stomping out of the hotel lobby in the form of a massive Black woman.

Correction: a very large Black woman.

"Daaah-ling~!" she squealed, barreling toward Howard and linking arms like she was afraid he might run away.

Ron swore the ground shook under her footsteps. She had to weigh at least 300 pounds. At 5'9", she effortlessly hoisted Howard—who barely topped 5'3"—like a handbag.

So now the real question was:

How had Howard managed it?

And more importantly:

What position did they even use?!

It's not like you can just walk up and press "F" to interact, right?

"This is Lily," Howard said, dead-eyed, introducing her with a pained smile.

But his eyes seemed to scream:

If it weren't for the cruel hand of fate… who would ever choose to drive a tank?

---

P.S.: Two conquests in one night. I think I've earned a few likes, maybe even a tip or two?