Chapter 83 – My Little Brother Came Out of the Closet
Ron staggered around the corner, finally slipping the hidden earpiece back into his ear.
"Ron, you know, the Oscars really owe you a little gold statue."
"One of these days, if this line of work stops putting food on my table, I swear I'll give Hollywood a try," Ron said with a smug grin.
"You mean you'll be running off with that little vixen from Transformers? Ron, any woman whose name literally means fox can't be a good woman. You need to keep your eyes open."
"Oh, so drugging and knocking me out makes you the good woman here?" Ron retorted. "Let me guess—gamma-hydroxybutyrate, wasn't it?"
The dignified commander of the IRS Special Operations Team, knocked out cold by a single woman—if word got out, his old colleagues would never let him live it down.
Sure, getting taken down by Paige wasn't exactly shameful in itself. The problem was that no one else knew her true skills—in everyone else's eyes, she was just a former prodigy who'd burned out young.
Ron couldn't exactly advertise what had happened, but at least he still remembered his chemistry well enough to make a decent guess.
"Correct," Paige confirmed cheerfully. "GHB. I even held a mouthful of whiskey to help it absorb faster. Relax, I calculated the dosage based on your annual health reports. I guarantee it won't cause any harm."
So medical check-ups can be used for this, Ron thought bleakly. "Fine. Anyway, how's our pair of lovebirds doing?"
He changed the subject. Since he'd left his vantage point, he could only rely on Paige's surveillance cameras for updates.
"They left five minutes ago," Paige reported. "So all that acting you just did? Completely wasted. Tell me—doesn't your heart feel a little heavy?"
"Not at all," Ron replied, eyes glinting. "Can you scan the street cams for me? See if there's a car tailing them. Should be about three to five car lengths behind, keeping its distance. Bald guy driving, mean-looking. The whole performance just now was for him."
"Oh my god," Paige gasped. "He's really there. Exactly like you said. How the hell did you know?"
"Professional instinct," Ron said matter-of-factly. "Harry's kid was obviously a rookie. Whoever trained him would never trust him to go alone."
Sliding into the car he'd prepared earlier, Ron started the engine. "Tell me where the old buzzard is. I'm going to tail him instead."
"No need," Paige said breezily. "I'll just send you the coordinates of the gay guys' place. You can wait there."
A vibration—Paige had texted him a location. As expected, it was Beverly Hills again, though this time a bit farther out in a less exclusive zone. Probably because the real estate prices were cheaper there.
Ron drove straight over.
Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, the two men were already fighting. After watching an uninspired scuffle between two rank amateurs, he noticed a sudden glint from a corner of the room.
The bald guy—Arthur—had joined the fray.
At last, Ron's moment came.
While the assassins were busy cleaning up evidence inside, Ron slipped over to Arthur's car and quietly planted a tracking device.
And then…
And then he simply went home.
As an agent who never lacked for money, Ron couldn't be bothered wasting his time on two petty thugs. All he needed was that tracker on Arthur's car.
When Arthur and the assassination syndicate inevitably clashed head-on, Ron would swoop in at the decisive moment and reap the maximum benefit.
There's a saying for this:
When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman profits.
And Ron—he was that fisherman.
After saying goodbye to Paige, Ron dragged his hungry body back home, only to realize he hadn't managed more than a couple bites of dinner—and the fridge was completely empty.
Penny might not be particularly diligent about cleaning the apartment, but when it came to cleaning out his fridge, she was astonishingly thorough.
Ron had no intention of going out to buy groceries. Instead, he simply took out the spare key and unlocked the door to Sheldon's apartment next door.
True to Sheldon's habits, there was always at least three days' worth of food stocked in his fridge—and usually quite a variety.
But when Ron opened the door, he was greeted by an exceedingly bizarre scene.
Sheldon was crouched beside the table, mouth wide open toward Leonard, in a posture that looked uncomfortably intimate. Given the day Ron had just been through, it was only natural that his imagination leapt straight to the worst conclusions.
"Oh my God!" Ron slapped a hand to his forehead. "I must have opened the door the wrong way. Sheldon—my dear little brother—you've finally figured out your feelings? Granted, you could've made a better choice of partner, but don't worry. I'll try to help you explain it to Mom."
Leonard stared at him, completely baffled. "Ron! What exactly do you think we're doing?"
"Aren't you letting my brother…bite you or something?" Ron said solemnly. "Look, I'm not gay, but I don't judge. You'll always be part of the family. If you two end up married, well—" he paused thoughtfully— "we won't insist you take the Cooper surname, but maybe one of your adopted kids could carry it on."
He gave them a warm, aunt-like smile.
"RON! Didn't you see the cotton swab in my hand?" Sheldon snapped, exasperated.
Ron nodded gravely, as if realizing something profound. "Ah—so before two men do this kind of thing, you have to sterilize first? Noted. Learned something new today."
"No, no, no!" Leonard pressed his temples. "Ron, you've got it all wrong. Sheldon asked me to swab the back of his throat. He thinks he's sick!"
Thinks he's sick? Well—that was very much Sheldon.
Ron sighed, shaking his head with theatrical regret. "Fine. You probably won't believe this, and honestly, I can hardly believe it either, but our family did have him evaluated. At least for now, he's mentally stable. No illness."
"We're talking about Penny!" Sheldon was still in full-blown germaphobia mode. "Penny came back today from a place crawling with sick people. She could've brought every possible pathogen with her—and she stayed in this apartment for over ten minutes. This place is practically a giant petri dish!"
"Sheldon! Penny doesn't have any symptoms," Leonard groaned, turning to yell back. "I'm sure she's not contagious."
"Oh, please!" Sheldon cried, voice rising. "If the flu only became contagious after symptoms appeared, it would have been wiped out thousands of years ago!
Early Homo sapiens would've figured out how to club anyone with a runny nose into extinction the minute they started using stone tools and painting on cave walls!"
Ignoring Sheldon's rant, Ron stepped past him, opened the fridge, and pulled out the milk. He grabbed a box of cereal, poured himself a bowl of cereal porridge, and settled onto the sofa as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"Honestly, guys," he said between mouthfuls, "if Penny hadn't eaten everything I had in my fridge, I wouldn't even be here watching this circus."