Spencer felt sweat trickle down his chest. “Dom, look, the other night, that sort of thing—”

“Doesn’t happen often.”

“Once was enough. I gave it a few days, like you said, and I just got more certain that I can’t do that shit.”

He felt McGrath’s eyes scanning his thoughts like a pulsar.

“Every job has its tough moments: closing your first sale, and yeah, seeing your first dead guy. People die all the time. In the army we were paid to kill people. But at least those towel heads were fightin’ for a principle. Two kids, boo-fucking-hoo. All of those punks were happy to stab and shoot up an old guy who saved your ass, right? I mean, come on! And what do you mean by ‘do this shit’?”

Spencer said nothing. This was going out of control. He just wanted to shake McGrath’s hand and call it a day.

“All you have to do is drive. You pick up, you drop off, you do your rounds.” He tapped his cigar into an ashtray made from the base of a mortar shell, put a foot up on the edge of the desk, and used it to creak his seat back. “Tell you what. This Subaru you’re talking about, the uh, what was it?”

Spencer held up his hand. “Dom, I don’t—”

McGrath held up his own hand right back. “Anyone would think you couldn’t wait to see the back of me. You feel like you been treated bad? I believe I can take feedback. Can’t be worse than I get from Cal. Well?”

“No, course not. It’s been just, uh, fine working here.”

“‘Fine’? Like when my wife says ‘fine’?” McGrath laughed. “Jesus, lighten up. I’m joshing. Maybe you’re a little tense.”

“Yeah, I guess I am, Dom. I am a little tense. And yeah, I feel bad coming in and saying so, but hey, do you want someone dealing with your shit who’s so tense?”

“Spencer, I been here a hundred times. Had guys older than you sitting opposite me, crying their eyes out ’cause they just seen their best buddy’s balls blown all over an alley. They couldn’t just go: ‘Oh this job makes me tense, can I go home?’ And you know what?”

Spencer looked hopelessly back at him.

“They get it together, Spencer. ’Most all of them. Hell, some of them, they become machines. Now why don’t you wake up and smell that aroma of coffee? What are you running from? It isn’t me, don’t you know that? You got a kid, debts, responsibilities, and right now you got a gig that’s paying hard, hard cash, and the only people who’ve busted you up are crispy critters now. Thanks to us.”