Valaida listened hard. After the melody's intro and Earl's left-hand-to-right-hand cascades of piano sound, her space opened, and Valaida jumped in. She blew. She entered the music, saw the chords, embellishes, the references to other songs as plain as day behind her eyeballs, and she used them. She jumped from bar to bar like a benzine-fueled billy goat. She didn't miss. She hit her peaks and whinnied in triumph. In the nebular light of the Terrace's...