The air was crisp and slightly cool, mingled with a faint scent of decay—not strong, but still enough to make one frown. Unlike the hot and dry climate of Los Angeles, autumn had already arrived on the streets of New York.
There was a familiar warmth.
In the blink of an eye, Anson had been in this world for five months. He had remained cautious throughout, only relaxing after Lucas's recent visit to the set, believing that he was finally ready to face the Wood couple.
At this moment, Anson felt even more certain.
He was 100% sure that he had never been to New York in his previous life, yet he could sense a deep familiarity in his soul. The unfamiliar things around him naturally blended into his body and mind, feeling anything but foreign.
Roar. Roar roar roar.
Even the rushing, crowded airport traffic couldn't dampen his good mood. The moment the plane touched down, he could already feel the difference between Los Angeles and New York. Although both are large cities, their styles are completely different.
Anson thought he would resist it, but he didn't.
Instead, he felt a bit happy.
Not because of the endless flow of traffic, but because of the comforting familiarity.
Edgar's voice came from beside him, "Sorry, give me a moment."
Edgar seemed a bit flustered—
This was where Edgar's inexperience as a junior agent became evident.
Everything happened suddenly, from the meeting decision to the trip to New York—it was all unplanned, meaning Edgar had to make arrangements on the fly.
Audition expenses were all self-funded; the production company wouldn't cover travel expenses, which is why actors typically choose to live in Los Angeles or New York. Being close to auditions saves time, and transportation and accommodation costs are also factors.
So Edgar had to book a hotel and prepare outfits for Anson.
Note, in the year 2000, without the internet, things weren't as convenient. Everything needed to be booked by phone, and you couldn't check room availability in advance.
One thing after another, and Edgar was getting overwhelmed.
Or rather, what Edgar lacked wasn't experience, but an assistant. High-level agents wouldn't bother with these trivial tasks; they'd leave it all to their assistants.
But Edgar didn't have an assistant.
In fact, Edgar was handling assistant duties himself; he just needed a little time.
Oh, and a Yellow Pages directory.
Edgar felt a bit embarrassed.
On the plane, he had been confident and assured, but as soon as they landed, he was in trouble, even failing to book a hotel.
Neither of them had checked luggage, so they could leave the airport immediately, but now they had to stop because they had no destination.
So now, hotel, clothing, contacting Ian Bryce's office—one thing after another, and he was like a dachshund running in circles under the scorching sun, completely exposing his shortcomings.
This wasn't the picture Edgar had imagined—
But Edgar still managed to regain his composure, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Anson, I'll cover all the costs for this audition. Don't worry."
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly, "William Morris reimburses?"
Edgar smiled, "Of course not."
He was paying out of his own pocket.
But Edgar believed it was worth it. He had no doubts.
Anson gave a knowing look but said nothing more. "I'm sure you have a lot to take care of, given how suddenly everything happened. You didn't have time to plan properly."
"How about this? Let's get in the car first. It takes some time to get from JFK to the city. If we're unlucky enough to get caught in Manhattan's rush hour traffic, you'll have more time than you can imagine to deal with the follow-up plans."
After crossing three time zones across the North American continent, it took six hours to travel from Los Angeles to New York. The sun on the East Coast was already hanging low in the western sky, with the cool and distant sunset casting its light over the city skyline.
If they were any slower, they might have experienced the pain of rush hour.
Edgar blinked and asked, "Sure, but what's the destination?"
As a junior agent and assistant, Edgar had booked countless flights, hotels, and taxis to New York, but this was his first time on a business trip to the city. He was still a bit lost.
Anson said, "Didn't you notice the details when you were doing your research? It seems you weren't thorough enough. I was born and raised in New York."
With that, Anson started walking.
Edgar froze, feeling both frustrated and helpless as he slapped his forehead—
Great, this was supposed to be his moment to show off his skills as an agent, but he had already lost control as soon as they landed.
"Looks like I'll need to work even harder moving forward."
With a bitter smile, he took a deep breath and clenched his fist in self-encouragement. Edgar quickly followed, and they both got into a yellow cab. Then, Anson said something to the driver.
"West 72nd Street, Columbus Avenue."
It was clear he was a local.
The driver understood immediately, glanced at Anson in the rearview mirror, and flashed a smile. "Sure thing, sir."
Stepping on the gas, the yellow cab merged into the bustling traffic of New York.
In fact, if you're heading to Manhattan, LaGuardia Airport is much more convenient; John F. Kennedy International Airport is a bit farther from the city.
But since everything happened so suddenly, they just chose the earliest available flight to New York and planned to figure out the rest later.
Just as Anson predicted—
They had arrived just a little earlier, and although the roads were getting congested, they managed to avoid the worst of it before the streets were completely clogged by commuters.
All the way, Edgar was busy.
Phone calls. Texts. Phone calls. Texts. Google seaʀᴄh ⓝovelFire.net
Even though mobile phones at the time couldn't browse the internet like computers, they still allowed a lot of work to be done on the go.
Especially now, with phones having to be turned off on planes, the six-hour gap left a pile of work, and Edgar was spinning like a top, moving at high speed.
The trip was shorter than expected; they arrived in less than forty minutes.
"…Just email me the documents, I've just arrived at my destination, and I'll check them right away. Yes, we need to move quickly."
Ending the call in a rush, Edgar pulled out some cash to pay for the cab. Then, with his phone between his cheek and shoulder, he grabbed his carry-on bag and got out of the car. He had been so busy the entire time that he hadn't noticed the passage of time—it seemed like they had just gotten in the car, made a couple of calls, and suddenly, they had arrived.
"In Los Angeles, it takes about twenty-five minutes to get home from the airport. I thought New York was much more congested, so I didn't expect…"
He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing—
He looked at the four-story townhouse in front of him and then at the park behind, where the endless greenery stretched to the horizon.
Spacious, vast, and clean.
In New York, this was clearly… Central Park?
Edgar's eyes widened, his mind struggling to catch up. "Here?"
Anson smiled. "Welcome to my home."
Without pausing, Anson headed towards the building across the street from Central Park, carrying no bag or luggage, as if he had simply flown from Los Angeles back to his New York home.