“If you don’t use your phone, then the IRS would have a difficult job proving you worked for me. Cal could take you to get some money for a car right now.”

McGrath waited, watching.

Spencer reached forward and took the phone.

McGrath stood. “Four doors. Some grunt but not flashy.” He walked around his desk, grasped Spencer’s shoulder, and offered him his hand. Spencer rose as he took it. “Follow me.”

They went down the stairs. “Don’t worry if the boys seem a little cold with you,” he said over his shoulder, and then he laughed. “I mean I wouldn’t want to meet some of ’em in a dark alley, and my wife fucking hates the Yo-Yo but—”

“The Yo-Yo?”

“Oh yeah. Just Dwight’s handle. Useful guy if people ever want to play rough. We like to avoid getting into any beefing on the streets though. Our customers do that among themselves. We leave ’em to it. We’re pretty tight here, so it takes a little while to fit in. Just got to prove yourself to them, Spencer.”

In the loading bay, Denny was throwing boxes out of the small truck and paying no regard to where or how heavily they landed. The boxes had pictures of high-end kettles and juicers on them.

“Need a juicer, Spencer?”

Spencer thought about the paucity of his contributions to the Wilcox household of late, since he got there in fact.

“Sure, why not?”

McGrath waved him to take one. He called into the truck. “Denny, where’s Cal?”

“He’s here.”

Spencer and McGrath looked round to see Cal coming down the walkway toward them with Johnny Boy and two other guys. Spencer found himself wishing he wasn’t holding his new, for-the-really-health-conscious kitchen appliance.

“Cal,” said McGrath. “This is Spencer. He’s gonna take up the driving slack.”

Cal didn’t have to say anything. His face said it all. McGrath turned back to Spencer. “Cal here’ll take you to get some money. Like I said, fast, four doors, not too flashy.”

McGrath walked through the group, slapping Cal jovially on the back as he went.

“Come on, guys. Let’s send him on his way before the Yo-Yo gets back and he changes his mind.”

No one laughed. As Spencer followed McGrath along the walkway and down the stairs, he felt eyes burning into him.

I don’t care.

Maybe I do, a little. Or maybe it’s this fucking juicer.

McGrath held open the passenger door of a sparkling white Porsche Boxster. Spencer got in. Cal intercepted McGrath the moment the door closed. “You’ve got to be kidding, Dom!”

“’Cause he’s not from around here?”

“That’s one of many reasons.”

Neither realized that the driver’s-side window was open. Spencer leaned over to hear better. As he did, he noticed the car’s key card had been left in its slot.