Dennehy’s bar was its usual dingy self. Clientele the same rowdy bunch of jocks. Atmosphere noisy and on course for drunken mayhem by closing time. ...The music, however, was a cut above normal. “Who are these guys?” she asked Angelo, that evening’s head-barman. “The Devil’s Rejects,” he called above the din. “Pretty hot!” She poured frothing glasses of beer. “What, all of them?” “The music, dummy!” She grinned and returned to her job —serving drinks and deflecting the attentions of college. "Why?" I had a chance to check out the judges. The other song wasn't gonna work." So? It's not like we care about winning. It's just one of the requirements for vocals."Robbie gave me one of her looks. The kind you'd give your grandmother with Alzheimer's who couldn't remember her own name. "It's always about winning."I sighed. "Let's see the music."The year was winding down. Two days left of school, and Tuesday was just a half-day.Baseball was done, at least school baseball. There was still. More

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