I parked my bike out front of the hookah lounge. The sign said that the place was open so I shrugged and walked in. The interior was dimly lit and when I glanced out the window I could see that the glass was strangely thick for a simple business. A man dressed in casual clothes but sporting a turban came up to me and greeted me with a bow.

"Greetings young master, you must be Steven," he said his English only lightly accented.

"I am," I said as I looked around at the dozen or so tables lining the outer walls. Most of the tables were occupied by two or...