Striker was pleased with that. ‘Oscar performance?’

‘A Golden Globe, at least.’

‘A Globe? That’s an insult.’

‘Okay, maybe one of those Emmys then.’

Striker put on his best dejected look, and Felicia grinned back. ‘You know, I’m not really all that hungry,’ she said. ‘If we watch our time, we can get back to your place before Courtney’s even left the doctor’s office – then I’ll give you your real award.’

‘On second thoughts, I’ll take the Emmy.’

Felicia laughed, and Striker ordered the bill. After he had paid it, he went to get up from the table, but stopped when he saw the intense look Felicia was giving him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Where do we go from here, Jacob?’

‘Who knows, Feleesh?’ he said. ‘Just roll the dice.’