Page 4 of Addicted

Liam’s bedroom had a view of The Parkers’ yard and he spent a lot of time pretending to do his homework while watching Mr. Parker from the window. He was a typical suburban man yet somehow Liam found everything he did fascinating, especially when he’d grill or work on his car, a smudged t-shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders and muscular chest. One summer he put in a pool with the help of some friends, working shirtless and sweaty as he dug a hole in the yard, and Liam had spent those days pressed against the glass wondering why he was so interested in the process.

It wasn’t the process. But it didn’t matter what he felt because there was no way he’d ever see the man again except in his mind. Absently, Liam wondered what The Parkers were doing now. Over these last three years, they’d probably forged a friendship with the new people residing in Liam’s childhood home, having them over for barbecues or swims in the pool, their lives continuing on merrily - just like everyone else’s - while Liam was at a standstill, stuck on a single moment.

“So, are you going to come out with us tonight or are you going to be an old man, as usual?” Marci threw an arm around Liam, ruffling his bangs, which were falling in his face.

The staff always stopped at Bar None after work. It was close by and Marci had been secretly in love with the bartender for what seemed like forever. She always invited Liam along and Liam always refused. It was like a rehearsed script where the lines never changed. Admittedly, he did go once and felt too out of sorts to enjoy himself. He could get away with moderate small talk at work but in a social setting everyone else was too happy, they laughed too easily, and they weren’t so full of grief that they ached, so he couldn’t relate.

Right on cue, he shook his head. “I’m really tired. I want to catch up on sleep after last night.”

“Oh, that’s right, your stomach was awful again.” Marci pulled away, looking him up and down. “You’re seeing a doctor, right?”

There wasn’t a doctor that could help him unless they could raise the dead. “Yeah, but there’s not a lot they can do for it. I just have to be careful what I eat.”

Marci fixed him with one of her thorough looks, like she was scanning his insides too.

“Okay...” she pursed her lips. “But if you change your mind-”

“The gang will be at Bar None, I know.” Liam took off his headset, letting it hang around his neck as Last Dance started playing. That was their siren song, the cue that the party was officially over, and Liam was more than eager to get home and mope again. “I’m going to help Angelo in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Liam,” Marci grabbed him again, this time in a quick hug, and Liam bit back the wave of emotion. She hugged just like his mother did, tight and fierce, and for a second he felt safe.

2

OWEN

Owenstaredupatthe front of the building and checked his watch. He was fifteen minutes early. Maybe he should go back to his car. Or maybe he should go back to his new condo that was full of his things but not really home and look for a job the old-fashioned way - online. He probably shouldn’t take an offer from an old client who’d heard that he’d moved nearby,especiallyif that old client was John.

A wedding hall. There was no way he could work here, was he some kind of masochist?

But he needed the money. Many things had blindsided him in the last seven months but at least he’d known he was going to be fired so he’d prepared. A letter from his lawyer had resulted in a sizable severance but his old boss had been using his vast connections to keep Owen from landing another job in their field. It didn’t matter; he’d been looking for something different anyway. It would match the rest of the changes in his life.

Or whoever’s life this was because it certainly didn’t feel like his.

He could see why it was called The Pointe. Situated on a hill, the building’s white stucco walls and golden-peaked roof shone like a beacon, the steepled top mimicked by the gazebo which stood proudly in the landscaped garden at the back of the hall. A few people holding stacks of folding chairs were currently scurrying around that gazebo but the main entrance was empty and Owen realized that he stood out, maybe looking like a customer.

One of the large glass doors in front opened and a petite tux-clad woman wearing a headset took a step outside. “Hi, welcome to The Pointe! Can I help you?”

“Oh, uh,” Owen straightened his tie and walked over to her, holding out his hand. “I’m Owen Parker, here to see John?”

“Are you interviewing for venue manager?” She lit up, firmly returning the handshake and, by the way she carried herself, Owen could tell that she was the real person in charge. John had told him about‘that girl who runs shit at my wedding hall’and since he didn’t say anything bad, which he usually did about everyone and everything, it meant that she was spectacular.

“I guess I am.” He smiled. “You must be Marci.”

“Guilty as charged.” She walked him inside. The foyer had marble floors with veins of gray, and the walls were a soft snowy white. An enormous empire chandelier hung low, obviously the centerpiece of the room, and a curved staircase wound up to one side behind it. It was certainly a good spot to take wedding photos. More people in tuxedos were dashing back and forth, apparently preparing for the day’s events. Everyone looked a little stressed, a little rushed.

“Since you know my name, I guess you’vemetJohn?“ Marci asked. Owen knew what she was getting at, especially from the tone of her voice, accompanied by the slight tilt of her head.

“I have.” They started up the flight of stairs. “And I am well aware of his, uh,charm.”

Marci threw her head back and laughed. She had a confident energy around her, like she could handle anything, along with an interesting mix of hospitality and sass. If Owen decided to take the job she would be a wonderful co-worker.

“Good! Then you know what you’re in for!” They turned left at the top of the stairs and Marci ushered them through a door markedEmployees Onlyand into a hallway lined with offices. “He’s in rare form today. The last interviewee stormed out of here about ten minutes ago.”

“Has he been interviewing a lot of people?”

Marci shook her head. “Most don’t want to come in after they talk to him on the phone.”

Owen felt strangely relieved. Obviously, this place needed someone; John had sounded rather desperate on the phone and Owen had been feeling quite unsure about working in a wedding venue with what he was going through, but once he was inside things didn’t seem so bad.

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