The Bar

5. Given and Taken

The police had asked Flint and Najeem several questions.
Flint had only seen the front of the bar, the kitchen, and the destroyed storage room. The kitchen was trashed but not ruined. The storage room was destroyed, the shelves wrecked, the alcohol bottles broken.
There were randome words spray painted on the wooden planked walls.

"Was there any altercations last night?" Officer Kranston asked. He was bald, tall, broad shouldered, similar to Flint although he was older and his muscles weren't as visible.

"I don't remember, no..." Flint says trailing off.

"What about that man?" Najeem chimes in as he sweeps up the glass behind the bar.
Najeem remembered that night perfectly. His friend making Clara's drinks very slow, making conversation. He had kept a close eye on her. Najeem noticed his friend's emotions change drastically as rage over took him.

Najeem and Flint were different in a lot of ways, but one of the things they agreed on was protecting women from harm. Najeem had three sisters and was raised by a very strict and good woman. Flint had his own reasons when it came to protecting the waitesses or the tipsy girls who bought one shot after another.
However, last night, Najeem was shocked by the fact that Flint didn't beat the man to a pulp when he grabbed Clara by the wrist.

"What man?" Flint asks.

"The one that grabbed Clara," Najeem replies.

Flint sighs remembering the fucker who touched her. His grimy hands had touched her smooth porcelain skin. He made her feel uncomfortable. Lord knows what the hell that sick fuck was thinking.

"Just drunk asshole who put his hands on one of the waitresses. He left a few minutes after I reminded him of my rules," Flint says to the officer refering to the sign on his wall.

"What exactly did you say?" The officer asked.

"I remembered him, hes been in here a few times. I reminded him of the rule then took the waitress in the back to talk to her. Its a rule, no matter what, if a patron touches one of the girls she is supossed to yell for me or Najeem. There have been too many times when drunk patrons become to friendly," Flint explains.

"What was the waitress's name?" Kranston asks.

"Clara Bowen," Najeem answers.

"Do you have a number we could use to contact her?" The officer asks.

"Yea, it's in the back, let me get it," Flint says turning to the storage room. He goes through the mess and unlocks his officer door. Once he places the key to the lock, the door swings open, it had been broken into.
He steps in. Nothing broken, just papers flung around. Files had been searched. Flint glances in his file cabinet. Employee files were the ones flung across the room. A bad feeling sunk into Flint.
Hastily, Flint hurried and picked up every manila file on the floor.
Shifting throught the tags on the files.
Vanessa, Mary, Jenny, Carter, Paul, Max, Ellie, Najeem, Griffith.
Flint went through the list of his employees in his brain. All but one of the files were accounted for, Clara's.

Clara washed her face and tied up her hair in a loose bun. She put on a pair of black rimed glasses and went to her closet. She had picked out a dark blue henley and a pair of jean shorts.
After another glance in the mirror, Clara grabbed her phone and went down stairs. She heard the high pitched voices of a cartoon playing as she walked down the staircase.

"Ara!" A innocently sweet voice called out.
She could never say Clara's name right and every time she tried it made Clara laugh.

"I'm here," Clara said approaching the  living room. Her tiny, seven year old sister sat on the rug. A bowl of cereal was on the coffee table in front of her.