Ethan nodded. “Yup. She yanked it out from under me though. And hey, I guess I can’t blame the Pierson for taking it, right? I hear this toy is supposed to be pretty intense. She told me it feels like being licked and fucked at the same time.”

Nate gripped the edge of the table. Blood pounded in his ears as those words echoed loudly, like a cruel mockery of all that was supposed to be private.

Casey peered at the address on her phone one last time, then glanced up at the street sign. She didn’t spend much time in Chinatown, and the streets had names instead of numbers. Baxter Street. This was the one. She turned right, hunting for her destination.

The stores along the block were tiny, wedged next to each other, and addresses on the front of the buildings could be hard to spot. She readjusted her ponytail, so it was high on her head, keeping her hair off her neck. She tugged at her silky, short-sleeved blouse, wishing for the thousandth time that New York and hot summers played nicely together. But they didn’t and never would. She still loved this city though, loved the hustle and bustle, and loved the fact that she could track down anything she wanted in mere hours, as she’d done today. That was the reason she found herself walking past Chinese grocery stores peddling odd fruit, then dim sum dealers, then sardine-sized shops that specialized in embroidered robes and dresses. She checked the numbers of all of them, and soon she found the X that marked the spot.

The Fortune Cookie Factory. With a name like that, she’d half expected a Willie Wonka-style establishment, with gears and cogs and conveyor belts that produced the little cookie creations. Instead, she’d arrived at a small storefront, stuffed from floor to ceiling with boxes. The door was open, and the interior was dimly lit. She walked in. No one manned the front counter. She tapped the bell lightly.

Soon, a heavyset woman with short black hair and tired eyes waddled to the counter.

“I’m picking up an order,” Casey said.

The woman nodded. “What is your name?”

Casey gave her the name and a minute later the woman handed her a small Chinese food carton with fortune cookies in it. She returned to the blanket of heat in the New York mid-morning, ready to jet back to her office and focus on work before she could give this small little gift to Nate tonight. She hadn’t seen him in four days, and was so ready to let him know how much she’d missed him.

When she reached Canal, she raised her hand to hail a cab, but two minutes later she was still standing there, peering down the long stretch of street at occupied cab after occupied cab. She sighed heavily, shrugged, and hoofed it to the nearby subway. As she walked down the steps to the uptown platform her phone rang. Nate’s name flashed across the screen.