The Bar

11. Tips

Clara's father had let her keep her job. He said he needed her to go down the path of experience. That the world of hate in which she lived in, full of sin and pain, would show her and teach her. That once she came to her senses, thats when she will be shown her true path, one he will guide her down.

When he explained this to his crying 18-year-old daughter he had a smirk driven across his lips that spelled out trouble. He said that she needed help, that she needed the Lord. Clara decided however, in that moment, that what she needed was to move out.

Clara's next shift was friday afternoon, she worked from the opening shift until 4 in the afternoon.
Clara sat on the bench in the storage room. She adjusted the laces on her shoes and then adjusted her pony tale.

"Clara," Najeem called from the doorway.
She shifted her gaze to her manager. Vanessa moved past him and to her locker, getting ready for her evening shift.

"Yea?" Clara replied moving over to let Vanessa sit beside her.

"Mary called, her boy is sick. Could you take her shift at seven? I know you just got done bu-" before he finishes, Clara eagerly agrees.

"Yes! Ill take as much shifts as I can get."

"Great, thank you. I'll see you at seven then," Najeem replies moving away from the door and back to the bar.

"Someone needs money," Vanessa says as she puts on her red lipstick.

"I need to move out."

"Tips are a girls best friend. Ask Najeem to change your shift from the afternoon to evenings, he needs more girls for the evening to late shifts. You'll get more tips. Maybe not as much as me if you dress that way, but more than what you get now," Vanessa explains.

"What do you mean?"

Vanessa tilts her shirt down a little revealing the lace trimming of her bra.

"Go home, put on a skirt or tight skinny jeans. Cut the trimming if your t-shirt into a v-neck, just make sure the name of the bar is visible. Wear a pushup bra and wear heels, put on some lipstick and put your hair in a high pony tail, like a cheerleader. You'll get hundrrd dollar tips in no time."

               ______________________

It had been two weeks. Wearing heeled boots or just pumps, wearing pushup bras and low cut shirts, skirts and tight jeans. Vanessa was right, tips had caused Clara's bank account to soar, but it needed time before she had enough to move out.

Flint had been stressed out with Cavenaugh's calls and visits, worried the asshole would try to get Flint back in the ring. Never.

Flint had finally gotten a couple good nights rest, but his mind always seemed to wonder to the pretty girl. He had avoided her as much as possible, never watched her work or let her close. He stayed in his office most of the time and always kept away from the vixen, but things always seemed to go back to her.

It was late, close to closing, Flint eyed the computer screen, observing his new security system. A camera outside the door of the bar, one at the bar, one at the register, one at the waitress station, two on either side of the dinning room. He turned his attention to his office door once the creaking sound rung in his ears.
Najeem stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"We need to talk," Najeem says.
Flint groand and moves a hand over his red beard.

"What can I do for you, friend," Flint says.

"Not for me, but for Clara." Najeem is concerned, worry washes over his face.

"What about her?"