Chapter 16 - .16 Bar
Jason parked the Porsche in front of the bar. The paint on the walls was faded, the signage cracked, and the awning above the door hung like it had given up long ago.
"This it?" Hendricks asked, stepping out.
Jason just nodded, watching as Hendricks pulled a notebook from his jacket. Before they even stepped inside, Hendricks was scribbling furiously—half a page of notes just on the building’s exterior.
"Angle of sunlight is perfect for a glass façade," Hendricks muttered. "Drainage slope’s a mess. Frontage has zero character. No curb appeal. We’re starting from scratch here."
Jason didn’t interrupt. He wasn’t here to micromanage. Hendricks was the expert. All Jason had to do was get out of the way.
He unlocked the front door and pushed it open.
The bar interior smelled like stale wood and wasted time. It wasn’t filthy, just... forgotten. Chairs stacked up in the corner. A long, unused counter with a thin layer of dust. The windows were small, the lighting dim.
Hendricks walked in like a man entering a crime scene. He scanned everything—flooring, beams, acoustics. Then he started writing again. This time, full pages. By the time they reached the back hallway, he was on his third.
"Where’s your electrical routed?" he asked. "Is the water line running under or overhead? Do you know if the ceiling supports can handle rigging for hanging lights or planters?"
Jason blinked. "I’ll have Daisy pull the records. You’ll have everything by tonight."
Hendricks nodded. "This place has bones. But it’s like... broken potential. Someone started this with the wrong vision."