Page 3 of Backward Motion

Oakdale was a small town, and people did talk. Their talk filled in the blanks, fixing Connor in place like a caricature. Who cared if it was true? It was easier to let them talk than to change their minds.

Chapter Three

Sam sat in his mom’s car across the road from Finnegan’s Electrical. The business was located in a small office building off Main Street, with a faded sign over the door and a utility van parked out front. Unremarkable, a little run-down, just an average trade outfit indistinguishable from all the rest.

He glanced at the folded newspaper in his hand, where the listing had been circled with his father’s crossword pen.Customer service experience ideal, data entry, light admin.He would have laughed if it weren’t so soul crushing. He’d graduated with honors, top of his class, and here he was, back at square one.

Yet as much as it pained him, his dad was right. It would do him good to get out of the house. If only as a distraction. He’d always enjoyed learning new things and was a sucker for proving himself. Since constructing his first shoebox diorama in second grade, he’d been wired for external validation.

Sam got out of the car and checked his reflection in the driver’s window. He looked ridiculous in his pointed-toe Oxfords and sea-blue suit, conspicuously overdressed in a town that considered sneakers a solid fashion choice. He shrugged off the jacket and tossed it back into the car then undid the top button of his dress shirt so he wouldn’t come across as such a stiff.

The bell above the door tinkled when he stepped into the office. The interior looked unchanged from what appeared to be its original seventies decor, all wood paneling and faded floral carpet.Document boxes were stacked haphazardly along one wall, and a scuffed reception desk sat in the middle of the room. Behind the desk, a curling poster depicted a dog with an empty food bowl in its jaws above the taglineHowl can I help?

The door to the back room opened, and a tall man in work pants and a faded black T-shirt strode in. His dark hair was cropped neatly at the sides, and his eyes were a dusky blue. He was at least half the age Sam had expected the owner of Finnegan’s Electrical to be and, instead of a protruding potbelly, sported the clean lines of well-defined biceps.

The man took in Sam standing by the desk. “Whatever it is, we’re not buying.”

Sam felt his cheeks warm. “Actually, I’m here about the job.”

“Oh.” The man’s forehead furrowed. “Hang on—for the front desk?”

Sam nodded, stepping over and holding out his résumé. The man took it wordlessly, and his eyes widened as he scanned the sheet of paper in his hand.

“Uh, it’s mostly answering the phone, invoicing, customer service. Sheryl, our longtime office manager, retired earlier this month.” The man glanced up from the résumé and gave him a quizzical look. “I think you might be a bit overqualified, Sammy.”

Sam blinked, and the heat spread from his cheeks down his neck. No one had called him that since high school. “It’s Sam,” he corrected sharply. He peered at the man. “Wait, do I know you?”

The man grinned, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Maybe not without the nose ring.”

“Oh shit!” Sam exclaimed. “Finnis?”

“It’s Connor, if we’re being adult about it.”

Sam laughed despite himself. Finnis was a notorious burnout who’d spent most of his time at school down the backfield with his grungy friends, passing around their beaten-up MP3 players andflicking cigarette butts at the jocks. Sam had been in a few classes with the guy, but then he’d up and disappeared a year before graduation.

“Right, Connor Finnegan. Is this your dad’s business?”

“Technically, it’s mine now.” Connor cocked his head. “Why’d everyone call you Sammy?”

“It was either that or Samantha.” Sam ignored the prickle of shame the memory unearthed. “What I got for being the only queer at school.”

Connor held his gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable, before handing back the résumé. “To be honest, the job’s way below your pay grade.”

“I don’t mind,” Sam blurted. He’d never been rejected for being overqualified before. “I kind of need an excuse to get out of the house.”

Major red flag.

“Not that I’d half-ass it or anything,” he added quickly. “I could help implement some new strategies. Bring my marketing experience to the table.”

Connor looked hesitant. “It doesn’t pay much. I wouldn’t expect you to go above the regular duties.”

“Then I won’t. If it’s just admin, I can do admin.” Sam realized how desperate he sounded. “Anyway, just thought I’d throw my hat in the ring.”

Connor absently cracked the knuckles on his right hand. “People haven’t exactly been beating down the door. You’re the first person who’s come in, actually.”

Sam remembered the scornful exchange he’d had with his dad about the classifieds. “Have you considered advertising online? There’s a bunch of free job sites you could list it on.”

Connor frowned. “I’ve never had to hire anyone before. Sheryl’s been around since I was a kid. Figured the newspaper was the standard route.”