Page 11 of Addicted

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OWEN

“Yeah,Ikindadoeverything around here, yanno?” Dylan, the guy with the shock of dark hair who gave Owen directions after his job interview, smiled and flashed Owen a double thumbs-up. “Sorta like a Dylan-Of-All-Trades?”

“Okay.” Bemused, Owen tilted his head and returned the smile. “Why don’t you tell me what you do in a typical day around here.”

“Ummmmmm…move chairs and tables, help with prep in the kitchen, set up the ceremony,” Dylan was counting off on his fingers. “Make sure people aren’t smoking weed on the front lawn during parties, that’s for behind the building.”

Owen coughed to hide his chuckle.

“Oh, and I prepped the office for you. I had to check that Dean didn’t leave a sandwich in the desk.”

This time Owen laughed outright and Dylan joined him.

Owen liked Dylan. Although he was very surfer-dude, it was endearing because Dylan radiated calm and positivity, things both Owen and a wedding hall could use. Actually, Owen hadn’t met a single person at The Pointe who troubled him, except the owner.

After being at the bottom of the ladder in the financial firm, Owen was used to dealing with fussy clients and nasty co-workers, so the job description Marci had sent over a few nights ago was more than workable. He was responsible for the finances and a lot of sales - although John did a little selling - he needed to check in with the brides and grooms a few times during their event to make sure they were happy, and he was the head honcho if a party went sideways and Marci needed assistance which, according to her notes, hadn’t happened in the four years she’d been there. He knew there were probably a few more things that weren’t listed but he accepted the offer anyway with the stipulation that John sign an employment contract, something Owen had drawn up that protected them both.

John had been ecstatic when Owen said yes, telling him the employment contract was fucking fine, he’d sign away his wife to get someone in there immediately. So, Owen was stuck with The Pointe and The Pointe was stuck with him for at least one year.

The new office was sizable, but of course not bigger than John’s, and had enough room for a large desk with a few chairs in front and a couch off to the side. The wall along the hallway was glass so he could see the foyer if the employee door was open and, if privacy was needed, huge blinds slid back and forth on a track near the ceiling. There was the promised spy window that looked out onto the floor of the main room but it didn’t bother Owen as much as he thought it would. For a while, he’d need to have a pulse on the place and being able to see where people were made things easier.

“How long have you been doin’ this meet and greet?” Dylan sat relaxed in his chair, one leg crossed with an ankle on his knee. His open bow tie and shirt were wrinkled, showing the white t-shirt underneath, and he was wearing red sneakers without socks. He didn’t seem to care that he was meeting his new boss although Owen felt less like a boss and more like someone who was deciding to wade knee-deep into shit to clean it up. But the first step was knowing who everyone was and what they did.

Marci had said that there might be a list of employees either in the computer or filing cabinet behind him but both were scarily empty, which was a whole different set of problems. She’d also said that, even if there was a list, there was so much turnover in the wait and kitchen staff that it wasn’t accuratebutshe’d send in all the people who he needed to get to know. Plus, later on, he had a meeting with the head chef Angelo and everyone who worked in the kitchens so things were moving along.

“All morning. It’s been challenging getting a handle on everything,” Owen admitted. It was plain that The Pointe had been hurting; a good staff could only do so much without a good leader. He hoped he could be that leader; he certainly wanted to be. Right now, he needed something to need him, to help him keep his mind off the despair.

“Yeah?” Dylan uncrossed his legs, leaning forward, “Anything I can help with, Bossman?”

“Maybe? Thank you, Dylan.” Owen was stunned by how nice everyone was. “Let’s see…the filing cabinet and The Pointe’s main email are a little sparse for Dean being gone for a month. Also, I don’t think my desk phone works, I can’t find the user info for the website or anything resembling financial software, and I’m not sure who’s been doing payroll or how I’m supposed to take over.” He shook his head at Dylan with a smile. “Of course, Marci’s been incredibly helpful. She gave me all the contracts for this year and a long list of Dean’s responsibilities but she’s also got her own job to do.”

Dylan closed his eyes and took a long breath, like he was doing a mini-meditation, and then opened them and stood, putting his hands in his pockets like he was about to bestow some wisdom.

“Dean was an amazing salesman, the brides and grooms loved him but he wasn’t, like, a paperwork guy? That’s why the filing cabinet is empty.”

Owen looked behind him at the hulking four-drawer monstrosity.

“Were there ever files in it?”

“Yeah, Dean cleaned them out last yeaaarrr?” He drew out the last syllable as if he couldn’t quite remember.

“Was he planning to go digital?”

“I…think? But it never happened.”

Owen could feel his eyebrows raise and his forehead wrinkle. This was getting worse and worse.

“Are the files still here? In the building?”

“Yeah, I think so, I saw some boxes in the office with the mail mountain.”

“The office with themail mountain?“ Owen did not like the sound of that. He liked it even less when the easy smile slid off Dylan’s face.

“Duuuude.“ His eyes went wide. “No one told you?”

“Welcome to The Pile!” Dylan announced as he unlocked the office next to John’s. Owen stopped short in the doorway, disbelief slapping him in the face.

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