don’t like that rule, head somewhere else.” The line of people surged forward.

 

Rogers had been given a special light like the TSA used at airports. If the

person looked anywhere close to the age limit, and most did, he pulled it out

and hit the surface of the ID. Three times he held on to the ID because it was

fake but good enough to fool almost anyone without the same equipment. The two

girls and one guy affected by this did not want to go quietly, but Rogers gave

them a look that made them turn and leave.

 

Then came a group of guys big enough to look like they played major-college

football. Three blacks and three whites, and none looked over twenty.

 

He asked for IDs. The first two were obviously doctored so badly that Rogers

didn’t even bother keeping them. He just tossed them back. When they tried to

pass by him, he put out an arm. “Just to be clear, that was a rejection, guys.

Try somewhere else, maybe where the bouncer is blind.” A black guy, the biggest

of them, said, “Come on, man, we won’t drink. We just want to dance and score

quality time with some fine ladies.” “Sorry, no exceptions.” Another of the

group, a slightly smaller white guy, stepped up. “I tell you what, Grandpa. You

let us in and you get to keep your teeth.” Rogers smelled the kid’s breath. “You

look like you been sixpacking already. You might want to head back to the dorm

and keep your scholarship.” “You must not have heard me, old man.” He took a

swing, but Rogers had already moved and the fist caught nothing but air. “Stop

running, Gramps, it’ll only hurt for a second,” said the man.