Page 5 of Addicted

“Understandable.” In Owen’s old life, John was his client. And that was only because everyone else at the firm refused to work with him. Owen had a way with people and, after a few years at his previous job, he felt like a few of his other clients and co-workers had outshone John in the category of Biggest Jerk Ever, so this interview would be small potatoes.

They stopped at the end of the hall and Marci gestured at the door next to them.

“I have to take off and do a million things but it was a pleasure meeting you, Owen.” She shook his hand again. “Good luck!”

“The feeling’s mutual, it’s been great seeing whoreallyruns things around here.“ He whispered back to her so John couldn’t hear.

She smiled so wide her eyes crinkled.

“You.” She laughed again, heading back down the hall. “I like you.”

“Owen! So, how’s the divorce going?”

Owen wanted to cringe but didn’t; instead, he maintained the poker face that he’d had to craft for court. If this were anyone else he would be appalled by their rudeness, but John would always be John and Owen was used to him.

“Hello to you too John.” Shaking his head, Owen walked into the office and made himself comfortable across from John, who was reclining with his hands folded over his stomach and his feet crossed on his desk, showing off his expensive snakeskin shoes. “And we’re still in mediation.”

“So, your lawyers are talkin’ to her lawyers.”

Owen let out a long breath. “That’s about it.”

John sat up, putting his feet on the floor, his loud burgundy suit not creasing at all. “You guys don’t speak?”

“No, I’m still being railroaded. Apparently, her new boyfriend makes five times what I made. At least she let me sell the house.” And what he got from the saleandthe severance went straight to his lawyer, who was piling billable hours on him like it was a challenge. But it was worth it.

“Is she letting you see-”

“Did you get the resume I e-mailed you?” Owen interrupted, not wanting to go down that road. His life had exploded only a short time ago and he was still wading through the shrapnel. His consciousness was a little detached; even being here in John’s office, on an interview for venue manager - a job that he didn’t know existed forty-eight hours ago - didn’t feel quite real.

“Yeah, yeah.” Part of John’s charm was that he was easily distracted. “But I don’t give a fuck, I trust you, Parker. When can you start?”

Owen stared at him. “You said nothing about this position on the phone and you don’t even know if I can do it. Besides, aren’t you interviewing other people?”

“Naw, just my girlfriend’s nephew. Told her I would so she’d shut her yap.” He flipped a hand in the air and scoffed. “That kid thought he was a sure thing but he couldn’t even run a race, never mind a reception hall. He barely has hair on his chest!”

This time Owen winced, dropping the poker face. “You should be a diplomat.”

“Watch it, Parker, I can fire you now.” John pointed a heavily-ringed finger at him.

“That’s if I take this job,” Owen raised an eyebrow. “And you won’t.”

“What about tomorrow? I need you to start tomorrow.”

“John,” Owen spoke slowly. “I need to know what I’m getting myself into here. Can I have some details?”

“It’s…” He waved a hand again, “You can do books, right?”

“Yes, if you read my resume you’d know I have a masters in accounting. And as your former financial advisor, I believe I’ve done somebooksbefore.”

“You were gonna be an accountant?” was John’s takeaway from that. Owen tried not to clench his jaw.

“Yes, but Sharon’s best friend had a firm and I ended up there.” And he’d been forced out, no matter how good he’d become at his job.

“You think you can do this, you know, with your divorce goin’ on?” John asked in a strange moment of abrasive empathy.

“You’re asking me thisnow?“ Owen laughed. “Do I have to run the weddings?”

“No, that’s Marci’s job and I pay her well enough for it.”

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