“Not really underground,” Cary said, like he was thinking the matter over. “We’re in the penthouse.” He headed out, taking the empty black bag with him, and I followed, not quite able to resist one last peek at the poker table, where someone I was pretty sure I’d seen on Shark Tank was angrily throwing down his cards. For just a moment, I thought about asking the mayor if she had the contact number for her employee Flora… but then immediately decided against it.

It wasn’t until we were back in the elevator and heading down to the lobby that I felt like I could speak at a normal volume again. “Oh my god!” I said, turning to Cary, who laughed. “That was very exciting.”

“This job has its moments. I’m just glad you’re not bored. I know this isn’t a very exciting way to spend your night.”

“Are you kidding?” I shook my head. Teri would be so impressed when I told her about the celebrities I’d just seen. I couldn’t wait to tell Stevie.…

A second later, reality brought me up short—like running full speed into a brick wall.

Stevie.

She had no idea any of this was happening. Would I even be able to tell her about this, about riding around New York with Cary, my arms clasped around his waist? And where was she right now? Had she already dropped Brad off and gotten her stuff? Was she halfway home by now—or maybe even back at Teri’s? Was she thinking about me at all, wondering if I was okay? Or had she totally forgotten about me the second the B train had pulled out of the station?

“You okay?” Cary’s eyes were on me, his expression worried.

“I’m good,” I assured him, trying to shake it off. “We’re okay on time, right?”

“More than,” he said. “But if you want to leave…”

“No way,” I said as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “Let’s keep going.”

I knocked on the door and looked at Cary. We were in another walk-up, this one on Sixty-Seventh. “Maverick Cleaners,” I called. Cary gave me tiny golf claps. Nicely done, he mouthed.

The door was flung open, and a woman in her thirties was standing there, wearing a black dress and a fur stole. “And who are you claiming to be?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, looking from me to Cary.

“Maverick… Cleaners?” I repeated, wondering if I hadn’t said it loud enough the first time.

“Right, totally,” she said with a wink. “Cleaners. Sure. So what can you tell me about the disappearance of Murgatroyd?”

“The… who?” I asked.

“Nothing,” a guy said, hurrying up behind her. He was wearing a suit, and a monocle on a chain. The monocle bounced out when he reached us, and he put it back. “They’re just dropping off the laundry, Diya.”