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Scott Nelson cursed as he made a second attempt to park his car with the U-Haul trailer hooked behind. You'd think that after four months of hauling this damned trailer around the country, he thought to himself, that I'd be able to park it better than this.
When he found that the U-Haul people had the police in three states looking for the trailer, Scott had painted it a dull gray and carefully disguised the license with a thick coat of grease and mud.
Scott had no intention of stealing the trailer. He would return it and pay what he owed on it just as soon as he got settled somewhere. Inside the trailer were the keys to Scott's new career as a commercial photographer.
Photography had once been his hobby and he had invested thousands of dollars in equipment. His pride and joy was the huge special tank for developing color film. Scott had paid almost thirty thousand for that one piece of equipment and had been shocked to learn that on the used market he would be lucky to get six thousand for it.
But Scott Nelson wasn't about to sell his equipment. He'd spent fifteen years working in an accounting office and saving every dime he could for his hobby. When he and Joyce broke up, Scott had resigned his accounting job to set out to pursue his life-long dream--to become a commercial photographer.
The first several months had been an adventure. He'd done some marvelously creative work in Omaha and Denver, but the financial rewards did not break him even. So he picked up odd jobs here and there while he sought an avenue to make photography pay off.
The past month had been a nightmare! He hadn't been able to find one assignment, and odd jobs had been almost impossible to find. As a result, he'd landed in Dallas with less than three hundred dollars to his name. For the last week he'd been sleeping in the car to save money. And for the first time Scott Nelson was considering selling his equipment and looking for work with an accounting firm.
"Scott! Scott Nelson!"
Scott turned as he climbed out of the car and found himself staring at one of his oldest friends, Harry Halliday.
"Harry!" Scott exclaimed, walking over and shaking his friend's hand earnestly. "My God, Harry, what are you doing in Dallas?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing!" Harry responded with a broad smile. "Hey, let's have lunch together."
Scott hesitated, thinking of his seriously depleted funds, then agreed. He hadn't seen Harry Halliday since Chicago! Harry had been a junior executive with a sporting goods manufacturing company and on his way up the corporate ladder. Harry was close to Scott's age, but looked much older now.
The two friends walked down to the Golden Pheasant restaurant and sat down to a dry martini and lunch. Harry explained that he was still with the same company, but that they had moved their offices to Dallas.
"Say," Harry remarked as the waiter removed their salad plates, "you may be the answer to my dreams, Scott. Do you still tinker with photography?"
"It's my business now, Harry," Scott replied with a smile. "I'm a free-lance commercial photographer now."
"Great!" Harry said. "I'm looking for a creative photographer who I can trust. We've got a new product, a super golf cart that's really revolutionary. It's about ready for the market and we need to create some classy brochures. Sound like something you might take on?"
"Well..." Scott hesitated momentarily. He'd take on anything, but he knew that he couldn't appear too anxious, even with his old friend.
"I'll level with you, Scott," Harry continued, misunderstanding Scott's hesitation. "When I said that this golf cart is revolutionary, I meant just that. Our competitors would love to get their hands on this, believe me! We know they'd love to rip us off, and they will just as soon as they can work out our new principle. So we're keeping it under tight wraps. The man we hire to do our photography has to be one hundred percent trustworthy. You can see why I have been hesitant to contract with anyone for the work."
"I understand, Harry," Scott laughed. "Unfortunately, some of the men in my new profession have been known to sell industrial secrets."
"Exactly! And with us that would be a disaster. Do you develop your own film?"
"Sure! I carry my lab with me," Scott said. "What did you think I had in that trailer... broads?"
"Both color and black and white?" Harry persisted, after a laugh.
"Right."
"Honestly, I think fate shoved us together this morning!" Harry said enthusiastically. "We're already months behind getting the material on this prepared. What brought you to Dallas, Scott, an assignment?"
"Well, as a matter of fact..."
"Look, Scott, I can understand you have to honor your assignment. What I'm wondering is if you can put it off for a while and take us on immediately?"
"Well..." Scott began slowly. "I'd have to return the advance they gave me," he said hesitantly, hoping Harry wouldn't see through this minor ploy.
"Of course! We wouldn't have it any other way! Look, Scott, I'll give you a five thousand dollar advance this afternoon. Would that be enough to entice you?"
"You drive a hard bargain, Harry," Scott remarked, hoping he had been able to control the elation in his voice. Five thousand dollars! "You haven't even asked me what I'll charge you for the work."
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