American History 1988
Chapter 170 - 164 Things Have Gotten Interesting

Chapter 170: Chapter 164 Things Have Gotten Interesting

Ding~, "LEGO Pirate Series toy, $69.99." Sherry skillfully completed another product scan with the barcode reader.

But throughout the process, she didn’t lay her eyes on the toy in hand, her attention was all on the young man in front of her.

After placing another item on the checkout counter, Dean finally couldn’t help but ask, "Is there something wrong with how I look?"

Ever since he brought items to the checkout, the girl opposite had been staring at him.

"Are you Dean Price?" Since he initiated the conversation, Sherry boldly sought confirmation.

"Mm-hmm~" Dean nodded, but he was still a bit puzzled.

"Oh~God!" Sherry covered her mouth in shock, "The Dean Price from ’The David Late Night Show’?"

"Yeah~" Dean finally understood why she had been staring at him the whole time.

"Oh~ my goodness!" Sherry twirled around excitedly on the spot, "Dean, you’re really cool! We all support you! Hey~ Dorine, look, it’s Dean! Dean Price!"

"Uh... Miss, my items..." Seeing her turn to call over a colleague nearby, Dean had to gently remind her that he still had a transaction to complete.

But it was too late, the cashiers, clad in Target uniforms, quickly spread the word, and soon, a small crowd had gathered.

"Dean, you look even more handsome in person than on stage!"

"Dean, we all support you! I’ve already called to complain to Bell!"

"Thank you~! Thank you, everyone!" Dean urged Sherry to check out quickly while continuously expressing his gratitude.

He had no choice, if he didn’t leave, the crowd would only grow bigger. This was Target, it never lacked foot traffic.

"Dean, could you sign something for us?" These days, you couldn’t take photos, but autographs were still fair game.

Caught off guard by the request, Dean blurted out, "Mother F*cker, am I getting the celebrity treatment here?"

"If you don’t mind, I don’t have a problem with it." Saying this, Dean handed his credit card to Sherry first; he wanted to get out of here quickly.

"Are you really from Ohio?"

"Yes," Dean hurriedly signed on the paper handed to him.

"Will you really become a billionaire?"

"I wish I knew, Miss. Oh~!"

As Dean received another item waiting for a signature, he was struck dumb.

Two plump bags, several connecting ribbons, pink in color.

What the f*ck? This was actually a terrible omen!

Seeing Dean’s bewildered look, the girls burst out laughing.

How the hell do you sign this? He looked up again to see the instigator batting her eyelashes at him.

Dean pulled out a marker and wrote "Dean" on one bag, then "Price" on the other.

"Could you add ’Hundred Million’ for me?"

"No, because I’m not worth that much!" Having said that, Dean, who had just finished packing and checking out, fled in a panic.

Behind him came a round of clear laughter from the girls, along with the cheers from the onlookers.

"Dean, we’re all loyal viewers of ’The David Late Night Show,’ will you be on the show again?"

"Maybe... possibly... probably," Dean waved to them as he left the Target supermarket.

He had only come to buy a couple of toys for Uncle Bill’s Jimmy, whom he had never met, but who would have expected such a scene?

Once in his car, Dean shook his head resignedly. Maybe it would be better in a few days; he wasn’t that high-profile.

What Dean didn’t know was that with the spread of the Los Angeles TV program and newspapers, San Francisco would continue to track his story, even further afield in America.

Bill Dreaper’s home was in Sunnyvale, less than ten kilometers from Dean’s villa.

In the powerful Cadillac 5.0L, he arrived at his destination in even less than ten minutes.

The Dreaper family, already apprised of his coming, stood on the lawn to greet him.

"Uncle Bill," Dean greeted them as he got out of the car.

"Dean," Bill, dressed in an army green T-shirt, smiled and opened his arms wide.

After a warm embrace, Bill slapped Dean’s back hard, "Great kid~ you’re becoming a big star!"

"It was totally unforeseen," Dean thought back on the episode he had just encountered in the supermarket.

"This is Orina and Jimmy," Bill then introduced his second wife and son to Dean.

"Hello, Dean, just call me Orina." Orina, of Jewish descent, was more astute than her husband.

Noticing the moment of embarrassment Dean had over the formality of address, she swiftly defused the awkwardness.

"Hello, Aunt Orina," Dean gently embraced her too.

He already had Aunt Rachel and, to be honest, faced with Uncle Bill’s second wife, he did feel a moment of embarrassment over what to call her.

But Orina’s proactive friendliness led Dean to add the term "Aunt" before her name.

It’s perfectly fine to call Frank "Uncle," so calling Orina "Aunt" isn’t a problem either, they are both the second.

"Come on, Jimmy, this is for you." Dean brought out a set of LEGO toys and a Nintendo NES console from the car.

"Oh~" Seven-year-old Jimmy couldn’t contain his excitement upon seeing what Dean had in his hands.

"Great! This is my favorite Pirates of the Caribbean series! And an NES!" Jimmy clung to the toys, "I love you, Dean!"

The child’s candid words brought laughter to everyone.

"Alright, let’s go inside." Bill, changing from his usual somber demeanor, led everyone into the house.

"I’ll go prepare lunch for you." Seeing that Bill and Dean seemed to have things to discuss, Orina volunteered to get busy in the kitchen preparing food for everyone.

Since it was Sunday, they were all resting at home, which was also why Bill had invited Dean over that day.

"I watched the talk show yesterday, and I was surprised by how much you’ve changed." Bill had watched Saturday’s rerun, and Dean’s performance on the show hardly resembled the person he remembered.

But Bill had left when Dean was just in middle school, so he attributed this to the changes that come with growing up.

In response to his remark, Dean shrugged, "I’ve learned a lot since I started the company."

"Good!" Bill liked the mature Dean, "Any news on the lawsuit recently?"

"It might take another week or two." It had been only about two weeks since the hearing, and results wouldn’t come that quickly.

"However, these past few days, Byte Software’s Teams sales have been very optimistic. We’re probably facing the fastest expansion since the company was founded."

This was the most direct benefit Dean had gained after his Hollywood experience.

Whether it was the banter on "The David Late Night Show" or the praise from the Los Angeles Times.

The direct feedback Byte Company received was orders! Orders like snowflakes!

With too many inquiries, the 80 customer service staff at Byte Company weren’t enough, and they had to bring in clerical staff as temporary customer service to cope with the emergency.

This situation had been going on for two days and was getting worse.

Dean could already foresee that the sales of Teams would reach a new peak.

Bill, upon hearing the news, was also happy for Dean. It was a good thing.

"There’s more than one piece of good news," said Bill, the normally reticent one, teasingly, "Thanks to your TV appearance, someone has finally loosened up."

"What?" Dean didn’t understand what Bill was referring to.

"Another guest is about to arrive." Bill glanced at his watch and then looked toward the door.

The faint sound of an engine grew louder, and soon Dean saw a black Audi pull up next to his Cadillac.

The African American getting out of the car was a bit unexpected for Dean.

As if he knew what Dean was thinking, Bill spoke softly, "James is one of the few friends of color I trust, the dependable kind."

As Bill went forward to greet him, Dean, out of politeness, followed suit.

This James, wearing a suit, had a demeanor unlike any other African American Dean had encountered, carrying a sense of presence.

He strode up to Bill, then brought his feet together and saluted, "Captain! Sergeant James Weir reporting for duty!"

"Come on!" Bill wrapped an arm around James’s shoulder with a laugh, "That’s ancient history now. You’re now the respected and beloved judge."

James chuckled, shaking his head, "If it weren’t for your advice, I might still be playing water polo at the bay."

Bill gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned to Dean for introductions. "James, federal judge for the northern district."

"Dean, my nephew. I’m sure you know of him, you guys at Byte Company know it better than I do."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Weir," Dean was surprised to see his Uncle Bill acquainted with someone from the northern district courthouse, and they seemed to be more than just acquaintances – comrades in arms.

"Hello, Mr. Hundred Million~" James’s greeting induced a hearty laugh from Bill standing beside them.

Alright, it seemed this jest was here to stay.

"I’m honored to meet you," Dean smiled and shook his hand.

"Alright fellas, let’s talk inside." It was Sunday, but due to James’s special status, Bill didn’t want to talk business outside.

Bill appeared to be in a good mood that day, with Dean being one reason, and James being another.

And just as Dean had guessed, the two men were comrades in arms, even ones who had endured life-and-death situations in the jungles of South Vietnam.

Back then, Bill was a captain and James was a sergeant.

During their mission, their squad was pursued by the South Vietnamese in the jungle.

The "monkeys" were naturally more adapted and familiar with the jungle, with unpredictable hidden guns and deceitfully lethal traps.

Had Bill not pulled James out of the way, he would have almost been impaled by a bamboo spike.

The traps set by the South Vietnamese were even more dangerous than landmines, and by the end of the mission, almost a third of their squad had fallen.

After his service, Bill returned to Ohio, and on his recommendation, James continued his education at university instead of staying in the service for a job.

The university James attended was Stanford Law School, so strictly speaking, him and Dean were alumni.

Look, things were getting interesting.