Page 33 of Addicted

“I’ll be right out!” He met Marci by the door. She had an odd gleam in her eyes. Owen stood in the hallway a few feet away and Emma, Angelo, Dylan, and a few of the other staff were gathered around him, looking like they’d witnessed the second coming of Christ.

“Liam, did you hear any of that?” Marci’s eyebrows were raised so high they practically touched her hairline. “It was magnificent! Watching Owen tell off the Wicked Witch added ten years to my life!”

Liam looked at Owen in horror, backing up to lean against the wall as his legs shook a little. Owen was busy scrolling through his phone, attempting to look casual but Liam could tell he was still angry by the set of his jaw.

“Uhhhh no, I’m sorry, I missed it.” From down the hall, Dylan clicked his tongue at him.

“Bossman did not like that she sent you scrambling around like that.” Instead of chair bows, Dylan was now holding two separate piles of napkins that rested against his chest. “So, he taught her some manners.”

Laughter rippled through the doorway as Liam blushed furiously. Owen kept scrolling, a muscle jumping in his cheek, but not from a smile.

Marci leaned against the wall next to Liam. “I wish I could say that I’m bummed but now we’re free fro-”

“She’s still going to book.” Owen put his phone in his pocket.

“What?” Marci and Emma shouted from either side of Liam.

Owen adjusted one of his rolled-up shirt sleeves, not looking at anyone. “I’ve worked with her type before. She’s a lot of bark and we’ve been bending to her, afraid of her bite. There’s no bite. Now that she thinks she can’t book with us she’ll want to.”

“You think so?” Angelo’s eyebrows were pulled together, doubt across his face.

“I know so.” Owen finished with the sleeve but still didn’t look up. “How do you think I managed to work with John for so many years?”

“Oh my god you’re right,” Marci declared. Nods and hums of agreement traveled through the little group around them. With the show being over, they started to disperse. Angelo and Emma ducked into the smaller ballroom while Dylan took off up the stairs, the rest lingering a few seconds longer before scattering back to their various stations.

“You missed something great.” Marci gave him a fake slug in the shoulder and jerked her head toward the storage room. “What were you doing in there? Taking a nap?”

Liam tried not to choke on his saliva. “I...um... I knocked a box off the shelf and had to pick it up.”

For some reason that grabbed Owen’s focus and he finally looked up from his phone, fixing his gaze on Liam, who immediately found interest in the wallpaper. The silence became awkward.

“I’ll be in my office.” Owen headed for the main stairwell and Liam and Marci watched him until he was out of sight.

“His divorce just got even messier, huh?”

Liam whipped his head around so fast that he almost got dizzy again.

“How did you…” He didn’t like how observant she was. They’d been working together for years; if she could read Owen like that, then what did she know abouthim?

“Everyone hides in storage when they have something going on.” Her eyes were still on the stairwell and her words seemed casual, like she was talking about Owen, but Liam knew that she meant him too. Especially when she turned and he saw her hesitant expression, which was strange for Marci. She’d ask the Pope to take off his hat if the bride wanted him to. But the hesitancy was bolstered by concern and Liam couldn’t have that.

Her lips parted like she wanted to ask something and Liam braced himself. She was going to ask him if he was okay.Reallyokay. And tell him that if he ever needed anything she’d be there for him. Or something to that effect.

Guilt twisted through the emptiness in Liam’s stomach, making it ache. Marci was a good person but he couldn’t let her in. There was no point. She couldn’t help him. And if he caved and even told her a tenth of what was going on she would never look at him the same way again.

You know what Marci? I’m not okay, it’s been three years since my parents died and it feels like three days but also like forever. Before I was taking pills, I used to cry in the shower every morning or in bed all night. Did you know I was on the track team in my sophomore year of high school? And now I can’t even run down a few flights of stairs? I used to be someone with a future and now I’m no one and I have nothing. So, I take Vicodin. I take it because it makes the grief go away and helps me pretend I don’t want our boss.

Oh, and did I tell you that I want to sleep with Owen? A family friend and neighbor who I’ve known since I was twelve?

No. She needed to stay in the dark like everyone else. He didn’t want pity, judgment, or help. He just wanted his parents back.

Something must have shown on his face because she froze and her mouth snapped shut; she pressed her lips together, as if fighting with herself, and then seemed to come to a decision.

Resting an index finger lightly on her headset, she gave him a cursory look up and down.

“I’m going back upstairs too. Eat something,okay?”

He nodded at her. It was one of his top priorities. If she was commenting on it without knowing that he’d passed out then he must look rough. As he watched her climb the stairs, relieved that she gave him a pass, he vowed to have at least two to three meals a day. Next time she wouldn’t let him off the hook.

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