Baker gazed out the window of his office, looking at who knows what. I knew not to talk to him while he was peering through the glass. It was the time that he took every day to relax. Staring out the window while music played was his means of escape.

The same as Abby and me sitting on her deck watching the sunset.

I sat in the chair on the opposite side of his desk and enjoyed the music that was playing. When the song ended, he turned around.

Upon seeing me, he gave a nod. “How’s it going, Brother Ghost?”

“Going good, thanks.”

He stroked his beard as he looked me over. “What brings you in? Hell, you haven’t been up here in ages.”

“Just wanting to talk.”

“About?”

“Well, first, what was that song that was playing? I liked it?”

“Peter Gabriel. In Your Eyes.”

I recognized the artist as being the singer of Abby’s favorite song. “Have you heard Solsbury Hill? Same guy, I guess.”

“I have,” he said. “You’ve never heard it?”

“She was going to play it for me but hasn’t got around to it. Just wondered what it was about. I liked that last one.”

He reached for his phone, fucked with it for a moment, and then set it on his desk. In a few seconds, a song began to play.

I closed my eyes and listened intently. I didn’t perceive the song as spiritual, as Abby had described it. To me, it was more of a revelation about a man who was finding himself. When the song ended, I opened my eyes.

“What’s that about, in your opinion?”

“It’s about him finding himself after he quit the band he’d been playing in. He talks about making it from day to day, and how his life was in a rut. He talks about his life being filled with people who had no etiquette, and how he was going to find his own way. It’s about taking your own inventory and moving on without the baggage. That’s what I hear, anyway.”

“Good tune. Kind of timeless,” I said.

“I agree.” He turned down the music and stood. “I know you’re not here to talk music. How’s the girl?”

“Abby? She’s great, thanks.”

“Didn’t wreck the car, did you?”

“Nope.”

I crossed my arms and looked around the room. “Bought a ring.”

“I’m guessing it’s not a clunky sterling silver set-up with a skull on it, is it?”

I laughed. “Nope.”

“You’re proposing to her?”

“Planning on it.”

“It’s a good feeling. Committing to a woman you love. I proposed to Andy on Christmas morning.”

“Do you have any regrets?”

“About becoming engaged? Hell no.”

“No,” I said. “About how you did it? On Christmas morning?”

He shook his head. “No. Why would I?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been carrying this ring around for three or four days and can’t seem to find the right time to give it to her.”

He chuckled. “Sounds to me like you’re having second thoughts.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I just don’t want to do it at the wrong time, and I don’t want some cliché bullshit attached to my memory of it. Or, to hers.”

“Not at Christmas, then?”

“Nothing against you, Brother, but no.”

He stroked his beard. “Do it at a time that’s natural. You know the feeling you get when you just feel like kissing her? Like, out of the blue?”

“Yeah, it happens all the time, why?”

“Give it to her at one of those times,” he said. “It’ll feel natural. Or, in one of those moments when you’re laying in bed admiring her. When she does something cute. When she, and you, are least expecting it. It’ll feel natural. Who gives a fuck about the story that’s attached to it. Do it for you, and for her, not for the story you’ll tell about it later.”

I nodded. “Good point.”

“Everything else okay?” he asked. “Is she still sick?”

“She’s better. Fucking oysters.”

“Didn’t bother me. Cash puked out his butt for two days. Must have been some bad ones in there. Hell, he flew them in from Louisiana, fresh. It’s not the Goose’s fault.”

“Not blaming him,” I said. “Just one of those deals.”

He studied me for a moment, and then grinned. “Finally lifted that ass of yours off that wallet.”

“What?”

“Other than building that fucking Mustang, you haven’t spent a dollar since high school. Took you thirteen years to build that car. As far as I can figure, that’s five hundred bucks a month, give or take. Hell, that’s the interest you’re receiving off our first job. You don’t even own a house, you rent one. You’re so tight, you squeak when you walk.”

“Don’t like spending money.”

“Did it hurt? To come up off some of that cash?”

He was right. I was frugal. Spending money seemed like a waste to me. I grew up without it, and now that I had some, I cherished it. Buying a new pair of jeans troubled me so much I’d often wait until they had holes so big my junk was falling out.

Spending it on Abby’s ring didn’t bother me one bit.

I shook my head. “Didn’t feel a thing.”

“Spend a chunk?”

“Half a million.”

His eyes went wide. “Jesus. Must be some ring.”

“It’s a nice fucker.”

“Got it with you?”

I laughed as I reached into my pocket. “Been carrying it for days.”

I handed him the box.

He opened the box and looked the ring over. “I take it back,” he said.

“What’s that? About me being a tight ass?”

“No.” He handed me the ring. “About proposing. You need to make sure she’s got something soft under her when you do it, because she’s likely to faint. That’s one hell of a rock, Ghost.”

“Hope she likes it.”

“She’d like it if it was a polished coffee bean. That girl’s eyes light up when you start to speak. Andy said she didn’t shut up for five minutes when they went out. Talked about you the entire time.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” I said.

“Looking at doing a job in Bakersfield,” he said. “Some child pornography kingpin. Fucking creep runs a website where he sells videos and shit. Been making millions for years and hasn’t been caught. We’ll talk about it Wednesday. If it goes the way I’m thinking, you’ll make enough to pay for that ring two times over. After we’re done, Tito’s going to open up a back door on the guy’s website and let the feds get him.”

I had no desire to do a job. The risk of getting caught, which had always been a thrill to me, lingered over me as a reminder of losing Abby. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. At least not at that moment.

“Sounds interesting.” I stood. “Think I’m going to do some tuning on the X5M, get it ready for the upcoming job.”

He stood. “Let me know how the proposal goes.”

“Will do, Brother.”

I turned toward the door, feeling no more certain of when I was going – or how I was going – to propose.

But I knew one thing for sure.

I didn’t want to do another job as a Devil’s Disciple.