Sidequests in Brooklyn Pt. 1

The next few chapters will be special crossover chapters, like the one I did with Castle around chapter 101.

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"Congratulations, Mr. Adler," the presenter said, extending the small medal of the new yet prestigious Carnegie Award for Fiction in my direction.

I stepped forward, shaking his hand as the audience clapped. It wasn't a massive crowd, but it was still a respectable gathering of literary elites, critics, and fellow authors. The applause was polite but sincere. I could hear a few whispers as I took the award:

"He's too young."

"The book is not that good."

I ignored them. Nothing could bring me down from the great week I was having. Everything was moving smoothly—my writing was on track, Midas was doing great, all the movies were on schedule, and Margot was back from Australia. Everything was just good.

Of course, I had a lingering feeling that something was about to ruin it—because that's what always happened whenever I was in New York, which was exactly where I was now.

It wasn't paranoia if it was based on experience. Two years ago, there was that whole serial killer and cult incident when I visited. Even on my more uneventful trips, something always went wrong: delayed flights, lost luggage, weird run-ins with strangers—New York had a habit of making my life slightly more inconvenient every time I came here.

But not today. I wasn't going to let the city get in my head. I was on a high, and nothing was bringing me down.

After the ceremony ended, I walked out of the venue with my security detail—Jacob and Stan, two large men in tailored suits who were constantly looking over my shoulder. As I stood there, looking at the skyline, I was itching to eat something sweet—maybe a cake or…. a cupcake.

"Jacob, Stan," I said, turning to them as we reached the sidewalk, "take the rest of the day off, gentlemen."

Stan, the more talkative of the two, frowned immediately. "Mr. Adler, that is not recommended—"

"I'll be fine," I cut him off, already fishing my phone out of my pocket. "I'm just going for a walk, getting something to eat, then I'll head straight to my apartment."

Jacob exchanged a glance with Stan. "Sir—"

"Guys," I sighed, "it's fine. You can have James drive you to my apartment or wherever you want to go. I'll manage."

They still weren't convinced.

I rolled my eyes. "Go enjoy the city. Have some pizza or something."

Stan muttered something under his breath, but finally, they relented.

"You're gonna get lost," Jacob warned.

"I'll manage," I said, already walking away.

I wandered the streets, trying to retrace my steps from the last time I was here. I remembered a great cupcake I'd bought somewhere around here—it had a really nice taste—and now I was craving something sweet. The exact location of the shop escaped me.

As I walked, enjoying the cool evening air, I noticed a man approaching me with a wide, friendly grin. He was a large Black man, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit—a crisp button-up shirt, sleek sneakers, and a pair of sunglasses tucked into his collar. He had a warm, inviting energy, like someone you could instantly get along with.

"You're Daniel Adler, right?" he asked, his voice smooth and cheerful.

I smiled back. "Yeah, that's me."

His face lit up even more. "Man, I knew it! I'm a huge fan! I've read all your Percy Jackson books."

I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You must be one of my rare older readers," I said, noting that he was definitely not in the usual teenage or young-adult demographic.

The man laughed heartily. "Yeah, I know, but one of my good friends, Jake, got me into it. He's an even bigger fan."

"Well, I'm glad you love it," I said genuinely.

He clapped his hands together, still beaming. "Would it be cool if we got a photo real quick?"

"Of course," I nodded.

He flagged down a passing woman, politely asking her to take the picture. She smiled and agreed, and we both posed—him looking absolutely delighted, and me offering my usual casual grin. The woman snapped the photo, handed his phone back, and walked off with a nod.

"Man, thank you so much," he said, checking the picture.

"No problem at all," I replied. Then I paused, realizing something. "Oh wait—I didn't catch your name."

He grinned again, exuding effortless confidence. "Doug. Doug Judy."

"Nice to meet you, Doug," I said, shaking his hand.

"Man, I loved The Batman too," Doug added. "Top-tier cinema, my guy. Chef's kiss. I cannot wait to see what you do next."

I chuckled. "I appreciate that, Doug."

"Well, I'll get out of your hair." He paused, looking at a car behind me. "That is a nice car," he added in a quieter tone.

I turned and saw that there was indeed a car…a Pontiac parked nearby.

"Gotta go, man. I have a concert to get to."

He walked off down the street, exuding such good vibes that it felt like I had just run into an old friend.

What a nice guy. Real positive energy.

I stood there for a moment, collecting my thoughts, before turning back to my mission. Now, where the hell were those cupcakes?

I walked for a while, letting my mind drift as I retraced my steps. The streets of New York were always alive—horns blaring, people talking loudly, the occasional busker playing a tune on the corner. It was easy to get lost in thought amidst all the chaos.

I thought back to almost a year ago. Then, it hit me.

Brooklyn.

Of course.

I quickly flagged down a yellow cab and slid into the back seat.

"Brooklyn," I told the driver.

The cabbie, an older guy in a faded Yankees cap, glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Brooklyn's kinda big, pal. Where in Brooklyn?"

I frowned, trying to recall exactly where it was. "I'll tell you when I see it."

The driver just shrugged. "Alright. Hope you got the money."

I leaned back as the cab rolled forward, weaving through traffic and taking me deeper into the city.

The ride through Brooklyn led me to a less savory part of town—nothing too crazy, but definitely not the kind of place you'd choose for a casual evening stroll. Graffiti-covered walls, dimly lit streets, and the occasional shady character lurking in the alleyways. The kind of place that felt like a whole different city once the sun went down.

The sun was indeed down, and soon Joanna's concert would begin. I needed to get there after I satisfied my cupcake craving.

And then, I spotted it:

Max's Homemade Cupcakes.

"Stop, stop!" I said, leaning forward quickly.

The cab driver hit the brakes. "Here?" he asked, eyeing the small, run-down storefront.

"Yeah, this is the place," I said, already pulling out my wallet.

The driver gave me a long look. "You seem like a nice kid. This ain't the best part of town."

"I've been here before," I reassured him, handing him a few extra bills for the fare.

The cabbie shook his head but took the money anyway. "Your funeral," he muttered before driving off.

I barely paid attention—I was already moving, almost jogging toward the shop. The place was just like I remembered: a tiny hole-in-the-wall with nothing but a small window in the building and a faded sign above it that read Max's Homemade Cupcakes. No flashy displays, no indoor seating, just a window on the side of the building.

For some reason, I remembered it being… nicer. Maybe it was the owner I remembered. Yeah, something about her…

I walked up to the window, my stomach already growling. I just hoped the cupcakes were as good as I remembered. I looked through the window, expecting to see someone behind the counter, but it was completely empty.

"Oh, come on," I muttered under my breath.

Just as I was about to turn away, someone suddenly popped up from behind the counter, startling me so much that I nearly took a step back. It was a woman with dark wavy hair, piercing brown eyes, and a figure that immediately drew my attention to certain… attributes.

I could lie to myself and say I was admiring her apron or her posture, but no—my eyes had a mind of their own and fixated on her large, barely contained breasts.

Ah. That's the other reason I remembered this place.

Dammit, Adler, don't be a pervert, I scolded myself, forcing my gaze to snap up to her face.

She tilted her head, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her lips.

"So, which cupcakes do you want?" she asked, deliberately motioning to her chest. "Because these are not for sale."

I blinked, my brain short-circuiting for a second before I quickly cleared my throat. "What? No! I was—uh—thinking!" I scrambled to recover. Jesus Christ, pull it together, Adler.

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"What's your name?" I blurted out, desperately trying to change the subject.

The smirk deepened. Oh, she was enjoying this.

"I'm Max," she said casually, leaning on the counter. "And this, of course, is Max's Homemade Cupcakes. You may have noticed from the sign. You know, since my name is Max."

I exhaled, finally regaining some composure. "Right, right. I've actually been here before. I've been meaning to come back for a while. Last time, I had those special chocolate ones."

Max perked up slightly. "A returning customer?" Then she narrowed her eyes, her smirk turning mischievous. "And from the West Coast, no less. You have that LA look."

I frowned. "What?"

Max gave a dramatic sigh and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "I can just feel it. The LA-ness radiating off you. The expensive haircut, the 'I probably own an electric car' energy, the slightly lost expression that says, 'Wait, why do things here smell like garbage?' It's all there."

I scoffed. "Wow, that's… incredibly specific."

"So, chocolate again, or are you finally gonna live a little?" she asked.

I pretended to think. "Hmm… I don't know. What's the best thing you've got?"

"Well, if you're feeling adventurous, I've got a few flavors that might just blow your mind."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"There's the classic chocolate, of course, but we also have a salted caramel that's to die for. And if you're feeling really daring, there's lavender honey—it's a bit unexpected, but trust me, it's amazing."

"Mm, spoiled for choices," I murmured.

Max tapped her chin. "You know, I think I remember you from last time. I might have even seen you on TV. I also remember Caroline freaking out about seeing you—she even got your autograph." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're some kind of famous, aren't you?"

I nodded. "You could say that. Daniel Adler," I added, giving her my name.

Max thought for a moment. "No, haven't seen you in anything."

"Well, no, I'm a producer and a writer," I clarified. "Maybe you've heard of Toy Story…"

"Oh, I love Toy Story. That was you?"

I nodded, then decided on my order. "Get me one of all the flavors."

"Coming right up, Mr. Hollywood," Max said as she began packing the cupcakes. It didn't take long before she handed me the box.

I popped it open and took a bite of one of the cupcakes. Damn. Still amazing.

"This is great. Thank you," I said.

Max smiled and watched me for a second before speaking. "So, since you're this big Hollywood hotshot, can you set me up with a ticket for the Joanna concert today?"

"You like Joanna?"

Max shrugged. "Didn't think I would—more of Caroline's thing—but she kinda grew on me."

I finished chewing and wiped my mouth. "Well, I'm heading there tonight. You can come with me if you want."

Max tilted her head and gave me a sly grin. "That was smooth—if you're asking me on a date."

I laughed. "Yes, yes it was. But no, not a date… I have a girlfriend. The offer still stands, though. We can go right now if you want."

Max studied me for a moment, then squinted in suspicion. "Alright, where are the cameras? This is one of those Hollywood things, right? You're gonna make me look like a charity case—'Oh, I am helping this poor person…'?"

I shook my head, smiling. "No, Max. I'm just having a great week and feel like making others happy, that's all. And if you come, I can even have you meet Joanna."

Max leaned on the counter, her eyes narrowing. "Alright, hotshot, if you actually pull that off and i get to meet Joanna… seriously, I will let you motorboat these bad boys." She gestured at her chest with both hands.

I immediately choked on my cupcake.

Max burst into laughter.

I coughed, waving a hand. "No—no need for… any of that—"

She just grinned wickedly before turning around and shutting the window of the shop in one smooth motion. "Welp, let's go then," she said, dusting off her hands.

I blinked. "Wait, just like that?"

She smirked. "What, you thought I was gonna hesitate? Free VIP ticket, a backstage pass, and I get to see if you're actually famous or just some rich weirdo? Yeah, no, I'm taking my shot."

I chuckled, taking out my phone as we stepped away from the shop. "Alright then. Let's get moving."

I dialed my driver, instructing him to pick us up. As we walked, Max stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and side-eyed me.

"So you really have a girlfriend?" she asked.

I nodded. "I think you might have seen her in some movies…"