Page 100 of Devil’s Disciples

He looked at me. “For a ride.” He looked at her. “Care for company?”

She looked at me, and then at him. She downed what remained in her glass and coughed as she tried to swallow it. “One of your friends?”

“The Goose,” he said with a nod.

“Is he nice?”

Baker grinned. “He is this time of year.”

“Is he cute?”

Baker looked at me.

I nodded. “He is.”

She nodded eagerly. “I’ll go.”

Her hair was twisted into a cute bun, leaving its lack of body and box-color dye job a mystery. I didn’t know Goose well, but my guess was that he’d be pleased with how she presented herself.

“Expecting any more tenants?” he asked.

“Nope.”

He tipped his hat, turned around, and hooked his thumb against his belt. “Shall we?”

With my arm hooked through his, and Holly at our side, we walked to his parking garage. A white minivan with fuzzy reindeer antlers mounted above the doors waited by the elevator.

Leaning against it, dressed in a top had and long-tailed tuxedo, Goose smoked a cigarette. I burst into laughter. “What’s going on?”

“Christmas lights,” Baker said.

“There’s no good Christmas lights in San Diego,” I said sadly.

Baker turned to face me. “You just need to know where to look.”

He waved his hand toward the van’s side door. Automatically, it opened. I gawked at it in awe.

“Cadillac of minivans,” Goose said.

Baker helped me get in, and then turned to Holly. “Holly, Goose. Goose, this is Andy’s cousin, Holly.”

He tipped his hat. “Pleasure is mine, ma’am.”

“Sit up front,” Baker said.

He pushed a button and the door closed.

“Pretty awesome automatic doors on your sleigh, mister.”

“Only the best for my lover,” he said, relaxing into the passenger side seat.

Nestled in a bucket of ice, a carton of eggnog sat on the floor between us. On the seat, two thin booklets marked Let’s Go Caroling.

I picked up one of the books. “Are we--”

He gave a nod. “We are.”

I loved caroling. My parents went every year. Holly’s mother took us, too, and I went every Christmas until I left to go to college. Some people grow out of Christmas, but I wasn’t one of them. In my mind, the spirit of Santa Claus was real.