People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

Chapter 495 A Sacrifice Offered to Li Wei (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

"A beautiful sprint! Hall, that young player, played exceptionally well!"

"That's right, Joe Buck, the Colts are playing really aggressively today," Levi's commentary voice boomed into Irving Cross's ears from the television. "On the other hand...right, their quarterback looks like he's having a good time today."

Irving Cross glanced at the score on the scoreboard on TV, then raised his hand and turned off the TV.

He felt as if a fire was burning in his chest, or as if a fishbone was stuck in his throat, making him so angry that he paced back and forth in the living room.

He stood up and walked around the area, carefully avoiding the UberEats bags piled high at his feet.

He was supposed to have a nutritionist cooking for him every day on 0ne57, but ever since he threw a tantrum a few days ago and kicked everyone out, Little Horse Team has stopped trying to contact him.

Surprisingly, no one has contacted him!

Irving Cross was getting fed up. This was too much. There had to be a limit to passive-aggressive behavior.

But that's the reality. The Colts put that second-team running back, whom they had met once before, into the game almost without any prior notice, and they actually won by a large margin.

Irving Cross was really going through a tough time at that moment.

"Is David Sterling really going to give up on me?" he thought to himself as he paced around the living room. "It shouldn't be like this. He's spent so much money and so much time on me..."

He couldn't understand why David Sterling, who was all geared up the day before, ready to lead Eli Lilly and LW into a major battle, had become so deflated after waking up in the hospital.

Owen Cross couldn't understand it at all. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he became. He hadn't received his injections for several days, and he felt his temper getting worse and his body hair getting thicker.

Returning to the coffee table in the living room, Owen Cross casually but deliberately turned on his computer, refreshed his email and work groups, and when he found that no one still wanted to message him privately, he cursed under his breath and shut down the computer.

As dusk fell, Owen Cross finally couldn't stand being cooped up at home any longer and decided to go out for a stroll.

He put on a hoodie, pulled the hood down, and still wore arm sleeves on his forearms.

He went downstairs, but instead of driving, he wandered aimlessly through the massive, towering steel jungle.

After being cooped up in the apartment for so long, all he wanted was some fresh air to blow away some of the frustration in his chest.

As he walked further south, the skyscrapers became increasingly sparse, and the roadside was littered with weeds, needles, and garbage. The stench emanating from the sewers made him even more irritable. It wasn't until he suddenly looked up at a strange smell that he realized he had unknowingly walked from 57th Street to the vicinity of Eighth Avenue.

Upon closer inspection, he realized he had stumbled upon an adult products store.

He turned around and prepared to go back, since the security here, while not particularly bad, wasn't exactly good either.

However, just as he passed an alleyway, a scantily clad, heavily made-up Black woman approached him.

In late October in New York, how did she manage to wait for so long at the alley entrance dressed like that?

"Hey, big guy."

She stopped Owen Cross, looked him up and down, and asked, "Alone?"

Irving Cross remained silent, but quickened his pace, trying to bypass her.

But the woman wouldn't give up. She followed him for a couple of steps, muttering, "You have a nice figure, so I'll give you a discount."

“No need,” Owen Cross said coldly. “I have other things to do.”

"Are you in a hurry?" the woman said. "Then come to the street and I'll give you a quick blowjob. My technique is the best on this street. It's only $50. How about it? I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

Owen Cross's testicles were now smaller than his little fingernail, and he no longer had those worldly desires. He quickened his pace to walk over, but was pulled back by the woman.

"Let go!" Owen Cross whispered.

"Wait a minute," the woman paused for a moment, then said excitedly, "I know you! You're Irving Cross! The Colts' running back!"

Once she recognized him, the woman was even less likely to let Owen Cross leave. She grabbed his hand and insisted on riding on his coattails.

"Let me go," Owen Cross said irritably. "I'm not in the mood for—"

'

A puff of hot steam rose from the sewer at the alley entrance, making him dizzy and nauseous. His temples throbbed with increasing pain, and he felt himself about to lose control of his temper again.

Just then, another voice came from the alleyway entrance: "Hey!"

"Ms. Helen, could you please let go of my hand?"

Owen Cross and the woman turned around at the same time and saw a man in an old trench coat walking towards them from under the streetlight, holding up an NYPD badge in one hand.

Owen Cross noticed that the middle-aged policeman in front of him walked in a very strange way, as if his two legs were not on the same step, with one foot deep and the other shallow.

This is a policeman with a leg injury.

"Oh, it's you again, Brennan," the woman rolled her eyes. "We're just chatting right now. I'm a fan, you know? Being a fan isn't illegal, is it?"

"Following celebrities isn't illegal, but you should at least be polite, shouldn't you?" the police officer said slowly. "Would you like to come back to the police station with me for a chat, or just disappear now?"

"You old bastard," the woman cursed, "I hope you get impotent soon."

"Erectile dysfunction is a blessing for men," the policeman shrugged. "Thank you for your blessing."

The woman's expression changed, and she muttered another street slang term before turning and walking deeper into the alley. The sound of her heels hitting the ground grew faster and faster, and within seconds she disappeared into the alley.

The street fell silent, and Owen Cross stood there, somewhat bewildered.

He wasn't afraid of being questioned by the police at all, because even if he made a huge mistake, he was confident that the police or Eli Lilly would bail him out.

But he doesn't dare take that risk now. If he's taken back to the police station for a medical examination, the gossip will spread and he'll be ruined.

"Thanks," he mumbled, turning to leave.

"But her skills are definitely the best on this street," the policeman said with a smile, lighting a cigarette. "She's the one I catch the most times when I'm making arrests on the street, so $50 is definitely a discount."

Irving Cross stopped and turned to look at the police officer: "I'm not interested in this."

"Don't be nervous," the policeman said with a friendly smile, extending a hand to him. "You can call me Noah, Noah Brennan."

"Owen Cross." Owen Cross hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand.

"You're very wary of me?" Noah Brennan said, giving a seemingly simple and honest smile. "Why?"

"Because..." Owen Croston paused, then withdrew his hand, "it's my privacy."

"What a pity," Noah Brennan shrugged. "I thought I'd run into another person who, like me, dislikes Levi."

"You don't like Levi either?" Irving Cross heard himself say.

"At first, I wouldn't say I hated him, but I didn't have any particular feelings about him either," Noah Brennan said, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "But later, Levi's fans went too far. When you turned on the TV, it was all about Levi; on the radio, it was all about Levi. In New York, they wanted to analyze even a fart from Levi and write a 100-page report to figure out what he ate the night before."

As he spoke, he tossed his cigarette butt on the ground. "I used to be a football fan, I even supported the Giants for a while, but then—"

He snorted twice, glancing at Irving Cross's expression: "Since when has the NFL been ruled by yellow-skinned monkeys?"

Owen Cross was stunned. Noah Brennan in front of him was practically his soulmate, thinking exactly the same thing as him.

"Want a drink?" he heard himself say. "It's on me."

"Even though I haven't finished get off work yet, I don't think it'll be a problem to grab a drink," Noah Brennan said, raising his prosthetic leg and stomping out his cigarette. "Where should we go?"

Owen Cross wasn't familiar with the area, so Noah Brennan ended up finding a nearby underground bar instead.

Irving Cross glanced at the prices on the blackboard's liquor list and relaxed completely: "Two bottles of your best whisky, please!"

"I need to drink less," Noah Brennan said, sitting on a high stool and removing his prosthetic leg. "I'm on medication and can't consume too much alcohol."

However, Owen Cross probably doesn't really care whether Noah Brennan drinks or not; he just needs a silent...

The seemingly kind listener, Noah Brennan, appeared harmless.

He poured himself a full glass of whiskey and gulped it down.

A series of loud hiccups, accompanied by words he had been holding back for half a month, finally came to his head.

“You’re right! Nobody in the world hates Levi more than I do!” he said. “Hypocrite, brainwashed fanboy, do you know how he treated me during the exhibition match? He must have used something, he must have something in his hands,” he stared at Noah Brennan. “Do you believe me? Do you believe what I’m saying?”

“I believe it,” Noah Brennan said earnestly, “because that power is not something a human could generate, is it?”

"That's right!" Owen Cross exclaimed. "Damn, I thought my bones were going to be crushed."

He became more and more excited as he spoke, and poured himself another glass.

Noah Brennan sat quietly across from him, nodding only when appropriate and pouring him a drink.

While Owen Cross went to relieve himself, Noah Brennan glanced down and sent a message to Helen, whom he had just spoken to.

Noah Brennan: [Well done.]

Helen: [Thank God, I don't know what you're trying to do, but can I get my goods back?]

Noah Brennan: [I'll give you the address tomorrow night.]

After sending the message, Noah Brennan deleted it, took the SIM card out of his phone, and casually broke it into pieces.

Owen Cross returned with another bottle of wine and continued to berate Levi.

Noah Brennan looked at Owen Cross, who hated Levi to the extreme, and increasingly felt that he was the perfect sacrifice to be offered to Levi.

"But he's a public figure now," he heard the voice in his head say.

"That's right, they're public figures, so we have to be careful."

"God will be pleased."

"We can never fathom God's mind, which is why we need to be careful."

"Yes," Noah Brennan suddenly said.

"You agree with me, right?" Owen Cross was overjoyed. "Then Levy is a complete hypocrite!"