Bobby stood about half a foot shorter than my six one, he stopped moving when I put the grab on him. I patted down his pockets. Nothing. Nothing in hi... waistband either. The heater that put our boy on the floor down would be too big for Bobby to stow in his sock. ‘Who do you think you are, frisking me?’ ‘Shut up. Where’s the gun?’ He got indignant, ‘I’m not heeled!’ ‘Don’t try to bulldoze the bulldozer.’ ‘Are you accusing me?’ ‘I’m asking a question.’ I was as mad as Bobby. Obviously the. ”“Or, maybe your grandparents’ records ... Aja -- do you realize the two songs you really made your own were both originally recorded by male vocalists?”“That makes sense -- I don’t have a man’s range.”Jason turned to a computer display. “I want you to hear the Vanilla Fudge version. I’m checking to see if the station has a copy. I’d be surprised if we don’t ... We do. It’s in the Vinyl Vault. I’ll go get it.”Jason stepped out of Control Room B. “Where ya goin’ now, Jay-Son?” Arthur asked.“Down. More

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