I'd been taping the damage done by the sleaze bags who broke into Mocha Daze.
Hugo called me this morning, told me what had happened and I came right over with both my camcorder and my still camera.
When I got there, Hug's spirit seemed as smashed as the tables and chairs.
He stood, slumped over, with Eric. The two of them were talking to the police.
I taped and photographed everything.
Fran crying when she came in, running over and hugging Hugo.
Andrew and Jenn, carefully picking up the pieces of stained glass dove.
Mike showing up later and Hugo firing him.
The camera caught it all.
I was putting away my gear, when a man came up to me.
He was an older man, dressed in a jogging suit.
"You shouldn't be in here," I told him. "This is a crime scene."
The man pulled card out of his wallet, handed it to me and said, "It's all right."
I read the card.
"RICHARD MILLHOUSE. ATTORNEY AT LAW."
"Sorry, he's got a lawyer."
Richard looked at me.
"Who?"
"The guy who owns this place."
"No," he said.
He stopped me before I could tell him to leave, saying. "It's you I wanted to talk to."
"Me?" I asked. "Why me?"
"I was running by, when I noticed you with your cameras."
"So?"
"So, it seems like you know what you're doing and I'd like to offer you a job."
"What would a lawyer need a cameraman for?"
"I like to videotape depositions and other interview with clients, that sort of thing. It pays extremely well."
"How much?"
"Thirty dollars an hour."
"I think I can do that."
"I thought you could," he said. He took his card back and wrote down a date and directions to his office.
"Be there," he said, handing me back the card. "Seven o'clock sharp."
