Chapter 8: Postpone the Drink

Tommy Hawk returned to his place, turned on the television, made himself a cup of coffee, and then slowly ate the remaining croissant from the morning with the coffee, barely soothing his already numb from hunger stomach.

Providence TV Station was playing the same old dreary and dull documentaries it always played.

Providence TV Station is an affiliate of the CBS television network, but just an affiliate, not a paid membership television station. This means that only during the prime time hours of each evening can Providence TV Station broadcast two or three hours of top-rated programs produced by CBS. The rest of the time, the station has to find other programs to air.

Of course, Tommy wasn't planning to watch American dramas. He just liked to have some noise while eating, so he wouldn't feel too lonely.

Now he had four hundred fifteen US Dollars and a batch of prescription drugs, enough for him to live alone until the summer break and still have plenty left over. As long as he found another stable part-time job, the money he'd save up should be enough to sign up for two inexpensive extracurricular summer camp activities.

As for trafficking doctor's notes and prescription drugs, Tommy Hawk had no plans to do it a second time.

Selling too many doctor's notes could arouse the college's suspicion. If the university consolidated student information for the new quarter and found that an Asian healthcare center in Boston, Massachusetts, consistently provided physician's notes to white students in Providence, Rhode Island, that would put him in big trouble.

Chen Furen selling to Asian international students was not an issue because these students could come up with excuses, such as having more trust in Asian physicians or worrying about not being able to explain their conditions clearly in English. But how would the white trash in Virginia deal with inquiries? Could they claim that these white people preferred to trust the medicine of people of color and deliberately went to Boston to seek treatment from Asian doctors?

As for prescription drugs, although the Prescription Drug Marketing Act had not been enacted in the United States in 1982, that did not mean that prescription drugs were unregulated. These addictive drugs were controlled under the Controlled Substances Act, and it was difficult for ordinary people to get their hands on them. The prescription drugs circulating in the black market were mostly controlled by Irish or Italian mafia families in Boston and Providence.

Their primary source of supply came from pharmaceutical manufacturers and large chain drugstores. Since the Prescription Drug Marketing Act had not been enacted in the United States, there were no specific measures for the recycling of expired or less effective prescription drugs. Therefore, the mafia members exploited loopholes in the United States Federal Government's regulations, taking a large amount of prescription drugs under the pretext of them being unsellable expired or less effective waste medicines, to sell at high prices on the black market, with the pharmaceutical manufacturers happily turning a blind eye.

If the Mafia members found out there was someone in Providence muscling in on their business, they wouldn't need the police to handle it. They'd take care of Tommy Hawk, the upstart drug dealer, themselves, as an unpaid favor to the Providence city government.

After enjoying his bread and coffee, Tommy Hawk returned to his bedroom to review his schoolwork. He was currently studying AP courses, essentially college preparatory classes. To get into a top university in America, AP course grades were essential. Damn American high schools divided courses into three levels of difficulty:

The "literacy difficulty, which is useless after obtaining the high school diploma," Regular courses.

The Honor courses "which might get you accepted into a second or third-tier university."

And the most challenging "AP courses, where one would need to take at least five classes and average a score of five to have a hope of applying to a top university."

Even though Tommy Hawk had already tried to game the system by selecting AP Calculus, AP Statistics, AP Macroeconomics, AP Microeconomics, Language and Composition—core courses that he was better at from his past life—he was still not sure he could score a perfect five on every exam. Many economic models and theories he had learned in his past life had not yet been proposed, and the textbooks were completely different, requiring him to start learning from scratch, which was why he had moved out to focus on his studies.

At six in the evening, when the sun had already set halfway, leaving only a few streaks of afterglow struggling in vain, Tony knocked on the door, carrying two bottles of tequila and a few lemons.

"I thought you'd find a bar that would let me in and show me around," Tommy said with a smile, stepping aside from the door when he saw the tequila in Tony's hands.

Tony, holding the bottles, walked in, set them on the coffee table, then collapsed on the sofa. "You can't get two quality bottles of tequila for twenty-four bucks at a bar, but you can at a supermarket. I brought lemons, so come on, let's drink them down with salt like the actors in advertisements, looking all cool."

Tommy picked up a lemon and walked to the kitchen, where he sliced it into thin pieces and arranged them on a plate, sprinkling some coarse salt beside them. Then, he carried the plate back:

"Did the rest of the money go to Dad?"

"Of course, he just managed to scrape together fifty bucks for a legal consultation fee to find out how to get Bessie home quicker," Tony said as he turned on the television.

Tommy took out two glasses, then opened a bottle of tequila and poured a quarter of the clear liquor into each glass: "There's only one way to bring Bessie back quickly—ample amounts of money."

After he finished speaking, Tommy handed a glass to Tony. Both men dipped their fingers in the salt and licked it off, clinked glasses, tilted their heads back and downed the drink. Then they each picked up a slice of lemon and put it in their mouth to neutralize the harsh, burning sensation of the liquor.

"I made the right decision." After finishing his drink, Tony, with an expression of pain and exhaling alcohol fumes, said.

Tommy looked at Tony: "What?"

"I had Ashley bring back some pickled olives, butterfly crispy biscuits, and fried chicken when she finished work. It's my first time drinking such expensive alcohol; this stuff is too strong. Just eating lemons, I worry we won't manage to finish it all."

Ashley was Tony's girlfriend, nineteen years old, and currently working as a clerk at a fried chicken shop.

"Weren't you always boasting about how you'd been to bars and strip clubs in Providence since you were fifteen?"

"After paying for the entrance, I only had enough money left for the cheapest beer. Brother, I obviously didn't go to those places to drink," Tony laughed as he checked the bottle: "This stuff sells for two US dollars a shot in bars. You can chat up a lady with a local beer that costs twenty cents, openly appreciate the barmaid's big waves; why spend two dollars?"

"Awful, hearing about your cherished bar exploits is the second worst thing I've experienced after getting off work, Tony. Hey, Tommy, long time no see." Ashley walked in from outside carrying two large boxes of food, the spunky girl with brown hair, a pink tracksuit, jeans, and flat shoes, and a face speckled with a few freckles wore an unpredictable expression as she spoke to Tony:

"At fifteen, you knew how to chat up girls in bars and were willing to spend money on those women, but as I recall, you've never bought me any gifts."

Tony responded with a naughty smile: "I buy Trojan when I see you, always do, remember?"

"You're a scumbag, Tony!" Ashley laughed as she cursed, setting the food down on the coffee table.

"Hey, Ashley, want a drink?" Tommy stood up and asked.

Ashley nodded her head: "Sure, I'll stay and slowly finish this alcohol off. Maybe Aunt Melanie can join me, but you and that scumbag Tony clearly can't keep up the cool act and show-off drinking anymore."

"Why?" Tommy handed a glass to Ashley, asking curiously.

Ashley took the glass, had a sip, and shrugged: "That's the first terrible thing after work I wanted to tell you about. I saw your dear old Dad, Mr. Colin Hawk, right outside Joan Kran's house, getting into a police car. Boys, looks like your little drinking session might have to be postponed."