The place Rob has in mind is a little dive set off one of the main roads. It’s part of a strip mall, and most people wouldn’t look twice at its unimposing door, whose glass paneling is covered with black construction paper. The windows are, too. Most who pass by think it’s just another closed-up shop, unused retail space waiting to be rented to someone new. There’s no sign anywhere indicating Bailey’s is open for business.
“How’d you find this place?” Mike asks as Rob leads him to a circular booth near the back.
Rob shrugs. “Word gets around.”
He follows Mike’s gaze as the shortstop looks at the wooden panels lining the walls, the mirrored ceiling, the glasses hanging above the bar, the bottles of alcohol winking in the recessed lighting. It isn’t much, Rob knows, but he likes it. “We m
