Page 7 of Addicted

He almost tripped over his feet, stumbling up the last few stairs as he tried to follow the owner of that hair but they turned a corner and vanished among a sea of similar penguin-suited servers.

Standing there, Owen scanned the room, hope fluttering in his chest.

Did he just see Liam Gray?

Owen’s phone rang while he was driving home from therapy and usually he’d ignore it but since it was Finn’s special ringtone - the mamma mia part of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ - he pressed the answer button on his steering wheel, never too talked-out for his best friend.

“Opie! How did the interview go? You were supposed to text me, man! The suspense!“ Finn’s voice filled the SUV and Owen couldn’t help but smile.

“It went better than expected,” Owen told him. “Much better. I’m actually considering it.”

Owen had discussed the opportunity with his therapist, Dr. Lawson, an older man with a shaggy beard who took copious notes at every session. He advised Owen to keep an open mind and maybe get an employment contract and Owen agreed. If he liked the job description and responsibilities that Marci was sending over, then he’d take the offer. It was a challenge, it was something different yet tangential to his former career, and it would save him the time and energy he was currently using to look for work.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time,” Finn said bluntly. “Are you sure you want to work in a wedding hall when you’re going through one of the worst divorces in history?”

Owen sighed. “I know it sounds crazy but someone else runs the actual weddings. I think I’m supposed to do the books and maybe sell? And also make sure the place doesn’t explode. I think. I’m hearing more about it tonight.”

“But didn’t you go to an interview?” Finn’s voice was dumbfounded. “You didn’t find out anything? Oh, wait. I forgot, it’s John.”

“ItisJohn but he’s barely there and the staff seems super competent.”

“Well, that’s a perk.”

“Plus, it would be nice not working in an office full of sharks.”

“Another perk. But brides can be just as bad. There are bridezilla shows for a reason.”

“It’s understandable though. Weddings are stressful. Mine certainly was.”

“Yeah, I wonderwho,“ Finn coughed, “I mean,whatcould’ve made it so stressful.”

Owen raised an eyebrow, shaking his head at the steering wheel as if Finn could see it.

“I’m not wrong,” Finn teased, in a way that only Finn could. The two of them had met while Owen was in college; Finn had worked behind the counter of a coffee shop that Owen had practically lived at during freshman midterms and once they’d started talking it was like they’d been friends forever. Sharon used to call them bookends, which was close to the truth, but in Owen’s mind, Finn wasn’t a friend. He was family, a brother in arms.

Owen exited the parkway, having to concentrate since the route was somewhat new to him. When his severance dwindled and it became apparent that Owen would have to sell his house or his kidney to pay the divorce lawyer, Finn had clamored to have him move closer and it turned out to have been the right decision. He had needed the support more than he’d thought; what was happening to him was unreal and it was good to have someone nearby in his corner. Plus, he’d gotten a job out of living close to The Pointe and the complex wasn’t too far away from his last address, so he could still make the hour commute to court whenever he had to.

“Is there any news?” Finn’s tone was the right mix of curiosity and empathy.

Owen let out another long sigh, staring at the empty place where his wedding ring used to be. The exposed skin was white, like the ring had left its ghost behind. “No. We’re still in mediation. I still can’t see my son. Freddy is trying everything he can. He keeps petitioning the court for custody but it seems that whatever he does falls on deaf ears. I think he’s more pissed that he’s being subverted than anything else.”

“I can’t believe that Sharon’s boyfriend is connected.”

“You’ve seenGoodfellastoo many times. He’s not in the mafia, his father just knows some judges. But he doesn’t know every judge. I might lose all the money I have figuring out which one isn’t under his payroll and paying for a private investigator though.“ Owen pulled into the complex, slowing down as he went over a speed bump.

“Wait. A private investigator? I did not hear about that.” Finn’s voice was all curiosity.

“There isn’t much to tell. Nathan Reynolds the Third is squeaky clean, a rich boy who throws his money around. His father, Franklin, made a fortune in real estate which means they have a long list of properties that Michael could be at. The PI could check them all but if they keep moving him around he’ll be impossible to find.” Turning into his parking spot, Owen took the keys out of the ignition and sat there. “I just want to see him again. I’m trying to do everything by the book even if she isn’t, I don’t care what it costs. The most important thing is that I get Michael back.”

It had been so many days now, too many since Owen had seen his son. He used to count them but once he hit triple digits the numbers only made him depressed. He’d been so sure that he’d have Michael back by now. And he absolutely wasn’t giving up but sometimes in the middle of the night doubt crept in, paralyzing him with fear. What if Michael had been stolen from him and there was nothing he could do? What if he got partial custody and Michael hated him? What if Michael had been hurt? What if he never saw his son again?

“Opie…” Finn’s voice told Owen that he’d been silent for too long so Owen shook himself and tried to change the subject.

“Oh, by the way, you know who I saw at the interview? Liam Gray.”

“A few weeks ago you thought you saw him at the grocery store. And when we were at the movies for my birthday you were sure the kid behind the popcorn counter was him.” Owen could hear the escalated concern in Finn’s voice which made him frown at the steering wheel.

“Yes. But this time itishim.”

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