Chapter 504: New York’s Welcome

The cross-country road trip from the West Coast to the East was uneventful, with no surprises and certainly no exciting encounters. Jack managed to cover the distance in just over 40 hours, driving his Firebird. It wasn't that he was running late and needed to speed; in fact, he still had a week before he was due to report to the New York FBI office. Jack simply wanted to use this time to get accustomed to life in New York.

On his first visit to the Big Apple, Jack had been struck by the fast-paced lifestyle, something that felt quite foreign to this half-Los Angeles native. Every time he saw the hurried pedestrians on the street, it felt as if the world was moving at double speed.

Just as he entered the city, New York traffic gave him a warm "welcome." While Jack was no stranger to traffic jams in Los Angeles, at least there you could move a little every few minutes. As long as you avoided rush hours, you could drive freely around the city.

But as soon as Jack turned onto Ninth Avenue, he found himself stuck in one place. After half an hour had passed, his destination—just a short distance away—seemed impossibly far.

Jack began to wonder if bringing his Firebird to New York had been a mistake. No wonder in the crime films he'd seen, especially those set in New York, the heroes were always driving on sidewalks and crashing through barriers. There was some truth to that fiction.

His only plan had been to stop at a place in Midtown West known for its authentic "Chongqing Noodles" before heading to Rossi's apartment. He also wanted to check out the famed "Hell's Kitchen" neighborhood. He hadn't anticipated being stuck in such a "deadlock." Looking at the calm expressions of the other drivers around him, who were used to this, Jack sighed, took out his phone, and snapped a picture of the long line of traffic to send to Justin.

As usual, Justin, who seemed to live in front of her computer, replied almost instantly with a teasing "O(∩_∩)O," clearly enjoying his misfortune.

Although his detective novel hadn't officially hit the shelves yet, Jack could now technically call himself an "author." Justin had anonymously uploaded and published the first book, The CEO's Contract Wife. With nearly 5,000 copies sold in the first month, it wasn't a breakout hit, but it had edged close to bestseller status.

Considering the collaboration between Jack and Justin—where Jack drafted the outlines and Justin filled in the details—they could easily churn out two similar novels a month. Chris was even negotiating the acquisition of a small publishing house.

Of course, Jack would never dream of revealing his pen name. That would be a social death sentence. He hadn't told any of the girls around him either. All discussions about the manuscripts with Justin were strictly done in "read-and-burn" fashion, leaving no traces on his phone.

Eventually, the traffic began to crawl forward. When Jack finally found a parking lot, he was shocked by the price—$15.40 per hour. It seemed New York lived up to its reputation as a city where space was at a premium.

Stepping out of the parking garage, Jack followed the directions on his phone and quickly found the small noodle shop. Pushing open the glass door, a small blonde girl, absorbed in her homework, caught his attention.

"Alexis?" Jack asked tentatively.

In his previous life, when watching Castle, he had really liked this unusually mature young girl. Alexis was polite, intelligent, and responsible—quite different from the typical troublesome teens portrayed in American TV shows. Instead, she often had to worry about her irresponsible father.

"Jack... Uncle?" Alexis hesitated but then extended her hand like a little adult. Her Uncle John had mentioned "Jack" several times over the phone, and she had expected someone close to 40, not someone this young.

"Uh..." Jack was momentarily dazed. The last time someone called him "Uncle" was in his previous life. "Please, just call me Jack."

"Okay, Jack." Alexis smiled warmly, returning to her seat and tidying up her homework.

"Do all New Yorkers move at your speed?" Jack glanced at her books, noticing the "Senior" label on them, marking her final year of high school.

"So, are all Angelenos as late as you are?" Alexis retorted playfully. "I've been waiting here for an hour and a half."

Ah, it had begun—the rivalry between New York and Los Angeles. Americans had their regional biases, too. Besides differing concepts of time, Angelenos often thought New York girls were only beautiful because of makeup and designer clothes, while New Yorkers viewed LA girls as silicone-enhanced and Botoxed.

"I didn't expect New York traffic to be this bad. All my stuff's still in the car, and I came straight here as soon as I got into the city."

Jack sighed quietly, thinking about the narrow streets, which often had only two lanes in each direction. Bank robberies must be rare, he mused, because even if the thieves got the money, there was no way they could escape by car—they'd have to run on foot.

Alexis waved off his apology and began to order food. "I thought you'd try a bagel first when you got to New York."

Bagels were hard, round bread rolls that were incredibly popular in the city.

Seeing Alexis only order a small plate of dumplings, Jack figured she wasn't very hungry. It wasn't quite 4 PM, not really dinnertime, so he ordered a bowl of spicy beef tripe noodles, a bowl of pork intestine noodles, and a side of soup dumplings.

Noticing Alexis' wide-eyed surprise, Jack finally caught on. "Something wrong?"

He had skipped lunch, having only eaten breakfast in Pennsylvania that morning, and was starving.

"How do you stay in shape? You eat so much, yet you look so..." Alexis stammered.

Although it was still May, New York was cooler than LA. Jack had ditched his casual LA attire for a suit, which only enhanced his lean, fit appearance. Given how much food he'd ordered, the contrast was indeed surprising.

New Yorkers, as Jack recalled from the women he'd seen on the streets, seemed to care a lot about their figures—at least two cup sizes smaller than the women in LA.

Alexis was probably still too young, which explained her slender, almost fragile appearance. Young as she was, she already seemed to be managing her figure—New Yorkers really did have their quirks.

What surprised Alexis even more was what came next. As Jack polished off his meal, sweating from the spiciness, he started chatting in Mandarin with the noodle shop owner, his accent a bit off but passable.

Jack, in his previous life, had been from Jiangsu Province, and his level of Sichuanese wasn't great. Still, hearing his native dialect from a white guy was enough to pleasantly surprise the shop owner, who was from Sichuan.

With a bit of effort and a generous tip equal to his meal's cost, Jack quickly got on the shop owner's good side. After a few more visits, he was sure he could ask for favors like sourcing hard-to-find ingredients or borrowing the kitchen.

After all, he was going to be in New York for at least a year or so. Besides asking John's help in getting Alexis to show him around, Jack planned to use this week to familiarize himself with the city. He also needed to make some early preparations for certain things.

With his stomach full and having said goodbye to the reluctant noodle shop owner, Jack and Alexis strolled around the neighborhood known as Hell's Kitchen.

Officially called "Clinton," the area is located on Manhattan's West Side, between 34th and 59th Streets, just southwest of Central Park. Jack and Alexis were on 46th Street, also known as "Restaurant Row," an area known for its good safety and abundance of dining options.

Though Alexis was mature for her age, she was still a young girl. When someone treated her with the respect and equality afforded to an adult, and even humbly asked her for advice on New York's subway system, she couldn't help but feel proud, despite trying to hide it. Her explanations were thorough and detailed.

Thanks to the NYPD's vast police force, the largest in the nation, New York's daytime security was generally good. The redevelopment of Hell's Kitchen had transformed the once chaotic neighborhood into a relatively safe area.

"Emmitt Grant has 20 yards... 15 yards... 10 yards..."

"And a big guy's right on his tail!"

"But the big guy can't catch up—Emmitt's going to win! He's going to win—yes!"

Two Black kids, one older and one younger, dashed past Jack and Alexis, playfully reenacting a football game.

Alexis spun nimbly to avoid them and smiled as they stopped at the entrance of a six-story apartment building, where the older boy shyly greeted a Black girl. The two boys seemed to be brothers, with the older one urging his younger brother to head upstairs, probably wanting to chat with the girl a bit longer.

Jack and Alexis had been walking and talking for several blocks without realizing it. Jack checked the time and noted that it was getting late. He guessed traffic on the way back would be bad and offered to take Alexis home.

"So, we're neighbors now?" the girl asked, blinking her long lashes curiously.

It was quite the coincidence. The penthouse apartment Rossi had loaned to Jack was right next to the famous author Richard Castle's. Although the two units were in separate buildings, they were close enough that neighbors could wave to each other from their rooftops.

"Yeah, which is why I'm trying so hard to

—" Jack suddenly froze, his eyes narrowing as a sense of danger washed over him. Instinctively, he pulled Alexis behind him.

"Boom!" A massive explosion rang out, followed by screams from all directions.

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