The Off-Kilter Bar and Grille

You head out of the subdivision, trying not to speed, as you pass under the 215 to head towards Towngate, where the Off-Kilter is.
As you pull into the plaza, you can see Tara, sitting on the hood of her Ford Focus, face in hands. It looks like one of her co-workers is giving her a napkin to blow her nose.
You jump out of the car. "Tara!"
She looks up, and starts sniffling again. "James..." she runs and throws her arms around you, crying into your chest.
You look to her friend for help. "Can you tell me what.."
"Some guy in there got frisky with her, stuck his hand under her skirt, so she threw a drink on him. Brian freaked out on her, made her pay for the drink out of pocket and sent her home." Her no-nonsense tone says this kind of thing isn't entirely uncommon.
"Tara, is that true? A guy in there assaulted you?"
"He...he told me I looked tasty, and when I got close to drop off a drink, he just reached under and...he got inside my panties...and..." she buries her face in your arm, ashamed.
"And your fucking boss didn't do anything?! That's sexual harassment, sexual ****, actually!"
The friend snorts. "Mister, that shit goes down here every other night. These guys are horny old bastards; look at what we fucking wear." She points to her absurdly short tartan skirt and belly-t-shirt that reveals plenty of cleavage.
"Well that's unacceptable!"
"HEY!" a rough shout from the direction of the restaurant gets your attention. A roundfaced, black haired man with a chinstrap beard and squirrely eyes comes marching out towards you. You instinctively put yourself between him and Tara. "Tara get the fuck out of here right now, or don't bother coming back! Carly, get back inside you got people who need drinks!"
"You the manager, Brian?" you look for a name tag, but there is none. Just black slacks and a red polo with the off-kilter signage embroidered on it.
"Who the fuck are you, buddy? Her daddy?" he scoffs. Your blood boils.
"This girl, your employee, was sexually assaulted tonight, and your response was to send her home?"
"He said, she said. She's getting sent home for throwing a drink in the face of one of my best bar guests!"
"He touched me, BRIAN!!!" Tara shouts, but you hold her back.
"Listen to me, buddy." You point your finger, "You don't want the trouble this can bring. You need to do right by her, or there's going to be trouble."
"Again, who the fuck are you?"
You didn't want to do this.
"James Sinclair. Maybe you knew my father, Francis?"
Brian suddenly stops sneering. His face goes white as a sheet. "S..sinclair? Like..."
"Yeah."
He licks his lips. "Hey... man there's no need for all this commotion. Just a misunderstanding." He's backpedaling hard now. "Why don't we just forget about it."
"Here's what's going to happen, Brian. You're going to apologize to Tara, and your going to figure out what she probably would have made the rest of tonight, and its going to find its way into her pocket. Capisce?" You hate doing this.
"Yeah...yeah that's fair. Tara, I sincerely apologize for not believing you. Take the night off, I'll take care of everything."
You look back at Tara. Her mouth is hanging open, looking from you to Brian.
"A..apology...accepted, Brian... th-thank you?" she doesn't understand why Brian is suddenly very agreeable.
"You should clean up your place, Brian. Next time something like this happens, you could end up sued, or arrested...or maybe something happens to you..."
"Heard and understood, Mr. Sinclair. Let Georgie know I don't want any trouble."
"Good night, Brian."
He practically flees back into the restaurant, and Carly follows him, looking at you with a little bit of awe.
"Let's go, Tara. I'll call a tow truck in the morning." Tara slips into the Javelin, and you head out into the night.
Tara lets loose another torrent of sobs as she details what happened in full. You rub her shoulder, and she accepts the affection without flinching, which is good considering what had just happened.
You decide to stop at a park halfway back to the house. It's a place you like to come to relax and remember your youth, with the baseball diamond bringing back melancholy memories of the path not taken.