There was so much that for one weird moment, I thought that the sidewalk had iced-over from the cold.
Somebody had put their boot through the front door of Mocha Daze.
Numb, I stepped through the door.
Cups were smashed, table stands broken, the espresso machine pulled out of the counter and drop-kicked into the register.
When I saw the stained glass in pieces, the dove fragmented and crushed underfoot, I got on the phone.
I called Eric. He promised to come right over with Andrew.
I called Mike. His phone rang and rang. No answer.
I called Jenn, who was due at work in an hour, told her what happened and asked her to pick up some brooms at a Ralph's on her way over.
I called and woke up Fran, who uncharacteristically burst into tears.
"Frankie, don't..." I said. "I'm just a short step away from absolute breakdown. I can't handle me and you at the same time."
I called Greg and asked him to help me clean up.
"Is Mike there yet?" he asked.
"Honey, don't pull any of that Mike shit with me. Just get over here and bring your camcorder, so I can have a record of the damage for insurance."
When I rested the phone in its cradle, it rang almost immediately.
"Mocha Daze."
"Hugo, it's me. Greg."
"Yes?" I asked.
"Have you called the police, yet?"
"No, I called all of you, first. It's my next call."
"Do it. Now."
Eric huddled me over to the side and started firing questions at me right away.
"I don't need the third-degree, Eric."
"This is important, Hugs. Did the alarm go off?"
"Why?"
"Was the alarm set?"
I didn't heard any ringing when I walked in and it never occurred to me to look. I went over to where the ID key pad was set into the wall.
Mike closed the night before. The alarm wasn't set.
