America 1982-Chapter 150 - 53: Warm Hug
Rhode Island, Warwick City Bay Area, a shallow beach enclosed with simple wire fencing, with a wooden sign at the entrance: Hawk’s Shipbreaking Yard.
Besides these few words, there were obvious doodles on it that came from the hand of a child.
At the moment inside the shipbreaking yard, Colin Hawk was working shirtless, sweat drenched, using a cutting machine to finish cutting a steel plate. Not far away were his reliable right-hand men and laid-off workmates, currently dismantling other parts.
It wasn’t until the steel plate split in two that Colin dropped his tools, shook his messy, wet hair, and stood up to inspect the efficiency of his old buddies’ work: "Morin! Pick up those screws cleanly, OK? Ten screws are enough to trade for a beer! The screws you overlook each time put together are enough for us to drink merrily in the bar for a month!"
"Hurl! Separate the radios and light bulbs! Don’t mix them with the other parts! The scrap traders won’t fuckin’ pay us extra! Fix the light bulbs and radios and then try to sell them to the niggers in the second-hand market! Earn a bit more!"
Seeing his men raise a middle finger in respect toward him, Old Man Colin nodded in satisfaction: "You fucks should all learn from Wilson! As long as I’m around for a day, Wilson will always be the best employee of Hawk’s Shipbreaking Yard. Look at Wilson, it’s just a fishing boat, yet he manages to conscientiously strip parts for one and half ships! That’s why he always earns the most pay every week! What boss wouldn’t like Wilson!"
"If you like him, that means the whole damn junkyard in Warwick hates Wilson’s guts," Ashley’s father Hurl laughed, "From a fishing boat Hawk’s Shipbreaking Yard bought, he could strip off fuckin’ car parts. The most ridiculous time, I found three car transmissions and five car horns on a fishing boat."
Old Man Colin took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it: "Old buddy, that’s what we call added value. Who said you can’t install car parts on a ship?"
"Beep beep beep beep~~ beep beep beep beep~~" Colin’s pager on his belt went off. He looked down at it and shouted to everyone proudly, "My dear son Tommy, from distant California, has sent me a caring telegram."
He walked into an office that had been converted from a scrapped Winnebago, pulled the phone cord out to the beach, and began dialing the number in front of everyone, deliberately teasing them: "Jealous, huh? My son is going to report to me about his latest scientific research at university. Listen up, this is the closest you’ll get to knowledge!"
"My dear son~~How are you? We really miss you... What?" Colin, after connecting, started with a proud voice but quickly became puzzled:
"You mean someone is going to give me trouble? Not trouble? An investigation? To me, an investigation is fucking trouble! No difference!"
"What the fuck did you do, son? Are you actually studying in California, or are you dealing drugs in California?"
Hearing Colin’s words, the other workers immediately stopped what they were doing and gathered around. Wilson, holding a beer, said, "I always said Tommy couldn’t be at college. Actually, doing drug business in California isn’t too bad. I have a relative in New York who runs a convenience store. Let him send the stuff over, and we..."
"Shut up!" Colin suddenly covered the receiver with his hand, roared at Wilson with a ferocious look, and then glared at his old buddies before continuing into the phone: "You’re saying the other side’s lawyer will have people come find me, Tony, Ashley, even Bessie?"
Seeing Colin’s expression and hearing his words, the old buddies each picked up various heavy tools. Ashley’s old man Hurl even came out of the office holding a shotgun.
Soon, Colin hung up the phone, spat out the cigarette in his mouth, and looked at the few: "First off, my son is still a university student, not a fucking drug dealer. But he’s run into a problem just like a drug dealer would he’s been sued. The lawyer on the other side might send someone to Warwick City for an investigation or some other bullshit procedure, so first, forget completely about the trivial matter of smuggling cigarettes. Second, I got to go see Tommy’s high school principal. Third, you guys wait here for the lawyer Tommy’s gonna get for us."
"What the fuck are you seeing the principal for?" Green asked, confused.
"I gotta ask him to write some flattering lines about Tommy, then have you guys and those hoodlums around the block memorize them, understand? Like how the world worshiped Jesus back in the day, you’d better worship my son just like that," Colin said:
"Morin, go call Hebers, have him and his son Dennis prepare some good lines! Same goes for Mr. Marvel’s place!"
Colin was distributing tasks to his old buddies when a luxury car parked outside the shipbreaking yard. Everyone looked towards the car.
"The investigation lawyer’s arrived so soon?"
"Andy Nielsen, which one of you is Mr. Colin? Tommy should have told you, during this time, you gotta listen to me. So, sir, would you mind putting down the gun?" Lawyer Andy, who had once helped Tommy’s Aunt Melanie put her ex-boyfriend behind bars, got out of the car. Seeing a group of burly men wielding tools that were definitely not ordinary and staring at him with fierce eyes, he spoke out bluntly.
Wilson eyed the car behind Andy: "Who the fuck distract this idiot for me? Just give me five minutes, I can strip five tires off that car and fix them onto our ship, real nice quality."
"This guy’s with us, Wilson, cool it," Old Man Colin patted Wilson on the shoulder: "When the other party’s people show up, you can take all the fuckin’ parts from their car, install them on our scrapped ship, then sell ’em to the scrap dealers. In such hard times, it warms my heart to hear an employee thinking about the yard’s profits. I’ll buy the beer tonight."
"So should we listen to you, or should we listen to this rich yet punchable fellow?" Morin scratched his somewhat balding scalp, asking puzzledly.
Colin sighed, "My son wants us to consider some advice from this professional, but I am Tommy’s father, and as a father, I must have some..."
"Fine, shut up, Colin, we’ve got the answer." Hurl interrupted Colin, turned around with his shotgun, and said to the others, "Tommy said not to listen to his old man, but to follow the orders of this Andy Nelson."
...
Late at night.
Susan Curtis was startled awake once again by the sudden bright light streaming into her bedroom. She sat up in bed, shielding her eyes from the intense light coming through the window, and glanced at the clock on her nightstand—just past one in the morning.
Even though the curtains were drawn, they did nothing to block the penetrating beam of the special flashlight.
"Damn bastards! Fuck!" Susan walked over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and looked out. Sure enough, two figures were standing across the street, holding high-powered flashlights.
Her and Mark’s life had undergone some changes over the past two days. Although Tommy had previously mentioned that once a case moved to the second phase, large corporations would resort to any measure to investigate and even coerce certain individuals they deemed crucial to cooperate, hearing it from Tommy was evidently less impactful than experiencing it firsthand.
Ever since the detectives began what they called investigation and evidence collection, she and Mark had been living this extremely uncomfortable life. It started with 24-hour surveillance, then the garbage from Actor Corporation and their own home would be thoroughly searched, followed by being woken up with bright lights in the dead of night, and suddenly receiving phone calls tempting them to cooperate as witnesses against Actor Corporation in exchange for peace.
"You motherfuckers only know how to stand across the street? Why don’t you come in and play with me?" Susan opened the window and cursed at the two figures in trench coats and duckbill hats, whose faces were completely obscured, "Of the men I’ve seen, you two are among the worst. You know damn well where the door is, yet you just stand there outside holding that thing!"
This level of harassment was nothing to Susan Curtis. Life now was much better than the days back in the slums of San Jose. Back then, it wasn’t about strong lights—if you didn’t hear gunshots from next door or the street for three consecutive nights, you shouldn’t worry about improved security but rather about your own hearing problem.
After closing the window and drawing the curtains again, Susan picked up the cup of water from the nightstand and, still in her pajamas, stepped out of the bedroom. She gently knocked on the door of the other bedroom where Mark Warren was staying, took a sip of water, and asked, "Are you okay? Mark?"
Mark’s voice responded, not from the bedroom, but from the living room couch, "I’m here, Susan." 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎
"Haven’t you slept yet?" Susan turned her head and saw Mark sitting on the couch. She casually switched on the living room light, then saw Mark grim-faced, in his pajamas, sitting on the couch.
Mark looked at the coffee table in front of him, where a pizza box lay, "I had just changed into my pajamas and was getting ready for bed when someone knocked on the door and delivered this."
"What is it?" Susan walked over, opened the pizza box, and instead of a pizza, there was a box of videotape and a note which read, "Come forward, cooperate with the court."
Upon closer inspection, there was also an address line clearly written, obviously the residence of Mark’s family.
The other party had investigated Mark thoroughly.
Mark, with a wooden expression, stared at the videotape in the pizza box, "Before, I told my family that I was studying at a community college, and now I’m a data engineer for a software company, enjoying company benefits, health insurance, pensions. They’re happy and proud of me."
"So, are you going to testify for Lotus Corporation? Turn against Actor Corporation that changed your fate?" Susan sat next to Mark on the couch, turned her face towards him, and asked.
Mark covered his head, speaking in a low voice, "I don’t want my family to know about my foolish past. Maybe I could try to meet with them? But I absolutely won’t reveal anything about Actor Corporation..."
Before Mark could finish, Susan poured the water from the cup she was holding onto Mark’s head.
Mark, startled by the cold water, jerked his head up and frantically wiped at the water stains, looking angrily at Susan, "What the hell are you doing?"
"I think you need to cool down, Mark," Susan’s eyes were fixed intently on him,
"Your family will find out about your past, your companions here will encourage and comfort you. But if you cooperate with them, we, your companions, will become your enemies. Your family will still know your past, and I guarantee you’ll be left with nothing. Do you actually believe those people outside will give you a warm hug after they get the information they want?"
