Chapter 219: Fixman

The healer collaborator codenamed 'Fixman' quietly ascended the Continental Hotel's contact list.

The old gunman, whose full name was Charlie Fisher, had helped Henry a great deal with opening his practice. Not only did he help Henry find a house to open in, but he also came personally to help tidy the environment.

While the two were cleaning inside the house, Henry asked curiously, "Charlie, you and the hotel manager share the surname Fisher. Are you..."

"She is my niece," Charlie said frankly. Looking at Henry's appearance, which was considered above average by white standards, he added, "If you want to date her, I advise you to save your breath. You would only be the one getting played."

Hearing Charlie's tone, Henry asked, "You two aren't on good terms?"

"We are distant relatives. They are the main family, and the most successful. Looking down on poor relatives under this big sun isn't anything new. Just because we share the surname Fisher doesn't mean we have to be a loving family."

Hearing this lukewarm answer, Henry knew when to stop. Continuing to ask would only become annoying. Besides, this was family business; it wasn't for an outsider to care about.

Instead, he became curious about this shop at the end of the alley and asked, "Charlie, how did you find such a place?"

Charlie wore an expression of slight anger and said, "Isn't this your request? Since we are opening a black clinic, of course it can't be on a main road, nor can it be some ghost town where no one goes.

"And it has to be in South Los Angeles. I was about to ask you, what are you thinking opening in the territory with the most blacks and Mexicans? Afraid your business won't be good enough, is it?"

"It was my request, yes, I just didn't expect such a place could actually be found."

At this moment, several blacks climbed through the half-open iron gate. Although there were blacks wearing gold chains, with pants hanging low, in the style of rappers, the leader was an old black man in a sharp suit, trying to disguise himself as a successful person, yet unable to hide his gangster air.

The leader and Charlie bumped fists to greet each other, speaking with a clicking tongue accent similar to the street punks, and said, "Old Dog, is this the Continental Hotel service provider who is going to open his practice here?"

"Yes." Charlie turned his head to look at Henry and introduced, "This is the boss of this territory; we all call him Big_O."

Charlie deliberately skipped the real name because some people dislike their real names being exposed, and for those mixing in the underworld, a loud-sounding nickname is even more necessary.

He hadn't asked Henry beforehand, so he could only let this guy answer for himself. If he exposed his own real name, it had nothing to do with Charlie.

"Big_O, nice to meet you. I am Fixman." Henry actively extended his hand to greet and temporarily thought up a codename for himself to introduce. Remembering Alaska Tom's advice, he didn't foolishly reveal his real name.

As for the Continental Hotel side, his identity was already known; trying to hide it at this point would be meaningless. So he didn't deliberately use a fake name there.

However, this old black man didn't extend his hand immediately, but said, "White kid, one rule. No selling drugs, because that is my business."

Henry promised, "No selling drugs. I am only responsible for treating wounds, fractures, and other external injuries. For other difficult illnesses, if you aren't afraid of death, you can also come to me for treatment. Even the mentally ill are fine."

Looking at the smile of the young white man before him, the old black man asked strangely, "Can you even treat the mentally ill?"

"Just hit the head with a baseball bat; if once doesn't work, do it a few more times. No matter how serious the madman is, I have a way to make him admit he is cured. Otherwise, only God can heal him personally."

"Aha, I know this treatment method too." The old black man, showing two rows of big white teeth and smiling, finally shook Henry's hand, shaking it back and forth twice.

Actually, Henry really wanted to ask how they brushed their teeth so white. Or was this another racial talent?

The old black man glanced at the eager underlings and asked, "Fixman, I see you are still missing a sign. How will you get it? I'll have my people help you."

Speaking thus, several underlings took out several cans of spray paint from inside their jackets. It seemed they were planning to go for street graffiti art again.

Henry certainly wouldn't object; after all, it wasn't a proper clinic. If it was made too formal, and official people came knocking, it would be bad. So Henry said, "Just use the word Fixman; please feel free to improvise."

"Yo-ho!" Several playful young little blacks, having received permission, immediately climbed out the iron gate, pulled it down, and began their painting.

Henry pulled out a few clean chairs for the old black man to sit. He and Charlie's tidying up had also reached a conclusion, just in time for a rest. He also took out a hand of beers and placed them on the table, first giving a can to everyone.

Everyone didn't put on airs; they pulled the rings and gulped. Don't look at the fact that the season is spring; Los Angeles, located in California, still carries a chill. But everyone was a big man; ice-cold beer knows no seasons, and there was no reason to refuse.

After everyone had taken a big drink, Henry spoke up first and asked, "Big_O, this is my first time doing this kind of thing. Are there any rules I must follow? You must tell me first, so that if I make a mistake later, it won't cause everyone trouble."

Big_O put down the beer can and said seriously, "You are a person of the Continental Hotel; outside, you have always belonged to the neutral party, which is none of our business. But if you want to do business on our territory, the condition is not to touch our business, which is drugs and women.

"So do your duty as Fixman, don't do unnecessary things, and we will consider you one of us. Even if there are cops looking for trouble, we will notify you first."

"I understand." Henry nodded and said.

Actually, to put it plainly, the Continental Hotel's business and the local gang's business do not overlap, so both sides can coexist peacefully. If there were conflicting interests between the two sides, wouldn't they beat people's brains into dog brains?

Charlie also supplemented in time, "Fixman, as a service provider, although you are not forbidden from taking outside business, you represent the Continental Hotel.

"Don't touch taboos. If there are trivial troubles coming to your door, find Big_O to solve them. If that doesn't work, find me, or ask the manager to step in.

"Just think about who your main clientele are. There are those who dare to offend those people, but they certainly won't be young men who can't even speak clearly.

"Later I will tell you how to make a mark so that the Continental Hotel's contract gunmen can see at a glance that there is a service provider nearby, without needing to flip through the hotel's contact list. Those who know will also know to cause less trouble."

"Okay." Henry, remembering something, turned his head to look at Big_O, this old black man. With some uncertainty, he tentatively said, "Regarding me opening a shop here, are there any monthly fees...?"

"Protection money?" After the old black man asked, he laughed and said, "With everyone having guns, very few gangs simply collect money on the grounds of 'protection' anymore. Both sides must have some business dealings to achieve a good cooperative relationship."

"Then we...?"

Henry's meaning in asking was obvious, and Old Charlie said on the side, "The landlord of this house is Big_O. You have to pay him rent every month."

Ah, so they were waiting here. Henry made an expression of sudden realization.

The old black man showed those two rows of white teeth again, trying his best to appear amiable and kind. But actually, this look was more like a shark with ill intentions, displaying its sharp teeth.

(End of Chapter)