"We're on Viaduct," Yery replied, and then, with a wink, "I think you meant to say it shouldn't be far. Perhaps we shouldn't go to your apartment after all, because you might be being tracked, and if you are, you should be on any given interstellar comlist. Let's head for my place instead, on Vtorym Way. I think you'll find it nice."
[I]Nice/I] was not the word to describe either Vtorym Way or Yery's complex. More fitting descriptions were sinfully luxurious, decadent, high-hat, and gaudy. Not to mention heavily-guarded and awash in a sea of lights. When James and Yery entered Two Vtorym Way, the ritziest high-rise on this stretch of New Chicago, four burly guards glared at them and brandished their weapons but relaxed upon seeing Mademoiselle Golightly. She tickled one of the guards' chins, and he let them pass.
"I don't sleep with them," Yery said, "even if they offer to pay. Instead, I tell them how to pad their paychecks through dicey games of chance, which is just as well."