200 Eleventh Avenue Novels & Stories

The driver was smoking a cigarette, waiting for a fare. "Thank God," Adrian breathed. He helped me into the backseat. "Where to?" the driver asked. Adrian pulled out the brass key. There was an address engraved on the tag. "Queens. Elmhurst. 47-12 Roosevelt Avenue." "That's gonna be fifty bucks." "Fine." The taxi pulled away from the curb just as the Cleaner emerged from the building. He watched us go but didn't pursue, almost as if he knew exactly where we were heading.

Her professional smile became genuinely warm and accommodating. "Of course, Mrs. Dettling! I completely understand. Mr. Thaddeus Ashworth lives in apartment 1009 on the ninety-first floor, and Mr. Thaddeus Jacob is in apartment 501 on the fifty-ninth floor. The elevators are just around the corner to your right. Would you like me to call ahead to let them know you're coming?" "No, thank you. I'd prefer to surprise him," I replied, grateful for her helpfulness while internally cringing at how I'd had to use my married name to get the information I needed.

Monday evening, Stephen and I walk out of Saks and onto busy Fifth Avenue as the traffic picks up its pace. In New York City that means the volume increases as the speed decreases. Across the street, tourists as well as employees buzz in and out of Rockefeller Center. The city is filled with electricity, yet the traffic and iconic buildings are merely blips on my already-full radar. I’m thinking, instead, about the ongoing discussions I’ve been having most of the day up on the tenth floor of this famous store.

123 Ventura's Towers Penthouse 1430 143 Prestige Avenue Metropolis, ST 010143 It's only now sinking in on me that this is Ventura's tower and that he lives in a penthouse! I felt frozen where I stood, wondering if I should go through with this. But of course, my only options were to continue or continue. I was so brave before, but now that I'm here, will I back down? I walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse floor.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you. I have a sublease that fell through, and the owner is super anxious. How soon can you take possession if you like the place?” Now it was Ace's turn to laugh. “How about eight p.m. tonight? Seriously, where is this place?” “It’s on Charlton off Sixth Avenue. A little off the beaten path but close to the 1 train and—” “My office is on West Broadway, so I don’t care about that. What’s the rent?” “It’s small.” “I’m only one person.” “And there’s no stove, only a cooktop.” “I eat sushi three days a week. I can eat cereal the other days, if need be. The rent?”

Somehow I knew that my son’s could be here, at this one. What I didn’t know was where exactly, or where Lena was keeping her. The address:110 Petersen Ave, was an enormous old factory that had been converted into a warehouse. I knew I’d gotten there when the cab passed by an old, red-brick wall, and I saw the place behind a set of gates, wrought-iron with1—1—0carved above them.

Gwen said to herself and walked away from the building she admired. 375 Borne Avenue, Boreon, Naudis. That was what she was looking for. Borne Avenue was a road that outstretched from the main road Lane 70. So Gwen looked for Lane 70 and from there traced her finger on the map to where Borne Avenue was.

The woman suddenly turned pale and her eyes widened. “B-but…” “Go to your table, Anna. We will deal with you later,” Brent said and motioned her to go away. After that they went inside the office. Wallace Empire Corp was located in Midtown Manhattan. Nestled between Central Park and towering financial landmarks. The eighty stories floor-to-ceiling glass walls mirrors the NYC skyline that looks stunning during sunset and stormy nights. It spans the entire 80th floor with 360 degree views of Manhattan. The only thing that made him in a good mood whenever he’s having a bad day.

“You coming?” His lips curled up in a smile. “Yeah. Sure.” The birds chirped as they strolled out heading to the road. A cab screeched to a stop as Elisha hailed him. “Where to?” the chubby, middle aged man croaked. “13th, Moonrow avenue” Elisha grunted as he settled down into the seat. Jenine nestled into him. They sat in silence, their eyes taking in the scenery wheezing past fast in a blur. Elisha caught the driver staring at him through the mirror.

30th floor, 10 West End Avenue. One of New York’s most prestigious luxury condominiums, where the lowest-priced unit cost no less than two million dollars. Jerome was among the lucky few who could afford one, a two-bedroom condo with half of its walls made of glass, offering a sweeping view of Manhattan’s skyline.