I’m behind the bar, eating a sandwich, guy comes up, late 30’s, good-looking, dressed casual, baseball hat. He takes out a phone, and shows it to me. It’s a picture of a guy, early twenties, blond, stubble, the guy says, have you seen him tonight? I look at the picture. I’m not sure, I say. There’s eighty kids here. If he’s here, he hasn’t come up to the bar. Guy says, ok. I ask, why are you asking? He says, guy robbed a bank today. Holy shit. Door girl comes up, says, I think I may have seen him. I say, how do you know he’s here? He says, we pinged his cell phone. We know he’s on this block somewhere. Ok, I say. You’re welcome to walk around the club, stay as long as you want. He says, I think I’ll stay right here by the door for a minute. Sure, I say.
I make some drinks, come back to him couple minutes later. Why don’t I walk around the club, see if I can see the guy? He says, that would be great.
I walk around, scanning the crowd. I better be careful, guy told me it was armed robbery. I go up to the front of the stage. I see a guy, that sort of looks like the guy in the picture. He looks like he’s having fun, and carefree, but might still be the guy.
I go back to the bar. I tell the cop, I saw a guy that kinda looks like him. You should check him out. He says, problem is, I look like a cop. I say, maybe lose the hat. He does, puts it in his pocket, walks toward the stage. Holy shit. A bank robber at the bar!!! How sweet.
He comes back, says, that’s not him. I’m gonna take off, if you see him, here’s my card. I look at the card. FBI Agent. How cool! I say, damn, you’re an FBI Agent. He says, yeah. It was a bank robbery. Federal offense. I ask him, before he leaves, what’s the guy’s name? He says, Corey _____. All right, I say. I will definitely call you if I see him.
He takes off, and I go back to eating my Jimmy John’s sandwich.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.