Three
Despite the chilly air, the line to get into Notre Dame—the one magical bar I’m aware of—was down the block. I’d left my badge at home and settled in behind a couple college kids I suspected were using fake IDs to get in. The bouncer combed the line, ostensibly checking all of those IDs. He got to me and I flashed him a smile.
“Remember me?”
“Hasn’t the boss banned you yet?” He huffed.
“Nope,” I answered brightly.
He looked at the long line, then back to me and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t need this tonight. Just go in and try not to blow the place up this time.”
I gave him a mock bow and bypassed the line of shivering patrons. I ignored the glares from some of the girls in tight miniskirts and ankle boots. Not my problem if they chose to freeze their asses off tr
