Page 31 of Addicted

And the eyes that Liam had just been lost in went completely flat.

“I...have to make a call.” Owen stood up, the color draining from his face along with his emotions; he went waxy, like a mannequin, his features tight as he turned toward the door then turned back. “Can you pick up the main line if it rings?” His voice was wobbly. Nodding, Liam knew better than to ask. This was probably about Mikey or the divorce - or both - and he hoped against hope that it was good news.

Owen fled the room, once again not closing the door properly, and Liam stared at the thin line of plush hallway beyond it long after he’d left. Every few minutes someone would pass by in a flickering blur but mostly Liam was alone and he tapped a small pile of contracts against the arm of the couch, absentmindedly straightening them, wondering how Owen was able to keep going.

The desk phone rang, its tone obnoxiously invading Liam’s alone time, and he sighed. His serving job only entailed taking orders and dropping plates on tables. Questions were always about the food and Liam could answer those; The Pointe’s entrées rarely changed. But a phone call? Whoever was on the other end could ask about anything and Liam wasn’t prepared foranything.

He wanted to let it ring with every fiber of his being but Owen had asked him to cover the phone and they were waiting on callbacks from dozens of brides. A missed call could mean a missed booking and Liam didn’t want Owen more upset than he already was.

Putting the files aside, Liam hustled to the phone before it switched to voicemail.

“Th-The Pointe wedding and catering hall, h-how can I help you?” He hoped he wasn’t breathing too hard into the receiver.

“It’s Mrs. Rushio. I need to speak to Owen Parker.Now.“ The clipped authority of her tone left no room for argument.

Adrenaline blasted through Liam’s veins, prickling up his arms and making the phone shake. Mrs. Rushio was not to be trifled with. Her son was getting married next spring in a two-day extravaganza and she was willing to spend an incredible amount of money to make her baby boy happy; however, dealing with her was difficult. She was demanding and coarse and had been haggling for weeks, stressing Owen out, but if they could land that wedding it would be the biggest of the year. There was talk of several bands, fireworks, and celebrities among the guests. The Pointe could only benefit from the event.

“Uhhhh…he…uhhh…” Liam looked at the door again helplessly, his buoyancy evaporating in a spike of anxiety. “He stepped out for a minute?” He cringed, not wanting that to be a question. “H-Have you tried his cell phon-”

“Yes. I tried his cell phone.Twice.“ Her voice could freeze Hell. “Is this how he manages a catering hall?”

“Um, uh, n-no ma’am.” Liam stared even harder at the door, trying to summon Owen. “M-Maybe I could help?”

Her derisive snort made Liam feel useless. “Tell him that I’ve made my decision and I want to sign the contract. He has five minutes to get back to me or I’m changing my mind.”

The line went dead. Liam blinked a few times before hanging up the phone. Trembling and on autopilot, he was in the hallway before he realized that he didn’t know where Owen was.

Dylan passed by carrying a pile of chair bows, their coarse fabric brushing Liam’s shirt. Desperate, Liam grabbed him by the shoulder, the importance of every second becoming clearer and clearer as it ticked by. “Have you seen Owen?”

“Hmmmm…Bossman walked through the main floor ’bout a schooch ago, looked like he was heading downstairs. Everything okay my dude?” Dylan looked down at Liam’s hand with a raised eyebrow and Liam snatched it back, trotting down the hallway.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine. Thanks!” he called out behind him, breathless. How long had it been since the call? Thirty seconds? Liam looked at his watch, gritting his teeth. If he wanted to be on the safe side, he had less than four minutes to find Owen and get him to a phone.

There was a weird rickety energy riding shotgun with Liam’s stress and it sang in his bones, spurring him on as he raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Shoving a hand in his pocket he fished out his ancient cell phone and smothered a curse. The battery was dead.

He cleared the last four stairs with a jump, the sound of him landing on the shiny hardwood floor echoed in the reverb that traveled through his legs. He was starting to sweat, unused to moving around this fast, and dizziness crept into his head as he swung it left and right, trying to spot anyone who could help.

A few feet away the door to the ladies’ room opened and Liam felt a short pulse of relief as Marci stepped out, adjusting her tuxedo coat. Liam immediately rushed over to her.

“H-Have you s-seen Owen?”

Her eyes went wide and she took a half step back. “Not lately. Why? What’s wrong?”

Liam tried to catch his breath, leaning over with his hands on his thighs. “Mrs. Ru-shi-o called. Sh-She wants to b-bookright n-nowand t-told me I have five minutes to find him.”

“And he’s not in his office?”

Liam shook his head, taking in huge gulps of air and trying to ignore how his shirt was sticking to his back.

“Shit.“ The declaration bounced off the walls in the empty foyer. Marci had dealt with the woman before and any mention of that name made her instantly angry but she understood what was at stake.

Her brows furrowed as she pressed a button on her earpiece. “Has anyone seen Owen? The Wicked Witch needs him ASAP. This is not a drill.”

As she stared into space, lips tight, nodding at answers from people who couldn’t see her, Liam looked helplessly at his watch, then her, then his watch, then her again. They had two minutes and fifty-one seconds.

Tapping the earpiece again, Marci’s eyes shifted back to Liam. “Emma says that she saw him going into storage. I guess-”

“Thank you!” Liam took off around the back of the main staircase as Marci called after him, wishing him luck. He didn’t need luck. He knew this route like the back of his hand.

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