Page 7 of Backward Motion

Hope you’re well. Thought you’d like an update.

Beneath the string ofx’s ando’s was a link. Despite his better judgment, he clicked on it, and it led to an article—inVogueof all places—about the brand collaboration he’d conceived several months back. Except he wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the piece. But she was. There was a photo of her with the creative director, and midway through the article, they’d included a quote from her about how excited she was to spearhead the partnership.

Sam dropped his phone onto the bed. His heart slammed in his chest. “Fuck... fuck...” he muttered, pressing his fingers to his temples. He felt the tightness returning, his lungs contracting. He needed to get out of this sad little room. He needed a drink, something to dull the edge.

Grabbing his jacket downstairs, he made an excuse to his mom about heading out for some fresh air. She eyed him with suspicion but said nothing. Since his return, they’d engaged in an unspoken tug-of-war, he pushing back against a level of vigilance he hadn’t experienced since being a kid and she pretending her overbearing concern was perfectly normal.

It was a ten-minute walk to the only decent place in town that served alcohol at this hour, Thistle Inn. He stepped inside and saw that the bar was packed with people wearing themed shirts and holding elaborate props. That was when he remembered Brian and Thursday-night trivia.

“Samuel!” Across the room, Brian was sitting with a couple in matching black T-shirts and waving him over.

Sam wound his way through the groups of contestants, passing a team dressed as Vikings before he reached Brian’s table. He was now close enough to read the text on his friend’s T-shirt: The Wise Guys.

“It’s our team name,” Brian said with a grin. “Glad you could make it. Wasn’t sure when I didn’t hear back.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Sam took a seat, chastened. He’d gotten Brian’s text and meant to craft a plausible excuse, but the effort of composing it had proven too much.

“This is Marcus and Evie,” Brian said. Evie gave him a wave, and Marcus leaned over to shake his hand.

“And here comes Finnis with the brain juice.”

Sam glanced up to see Connor approaching in an identical Wise Guys T-shirt, with a pitcher of beer and a stack of empty glasses in hand. Surprise registered on his face.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Connor remarked. “Lucky I brought extra glasses.”

Brian wrestled the pitcher from Connor and began pouring beer for the team. “Sam, you remember Finnis from school?”

“It’s Connor, if we’re being adult about it,” Sam quipped, alarmed by his own audacity.

Connor laughed. “Right, Spielman. We’re not sixteen anymore.”

Brian cocked an eyebrow. “That’s for sure. I was scared shitless of the sixteen-year-old you. Keeper of switch knives, destroyer of woodsheds.”

Sam frowned, not sure he got the reference.

“All right, all right.” Connor cleared his throat. “Sam’s actually giving me a hand with the business, getting on top of all the paperwork I’ve neglected. He’s been a real help.”

Sam was just answering phone calls and loading jobs into the system. But as he’d done with his father, Connor seemed intent on talking Sam up.

“Oh, cool.” Brian was distracted by the MC, who’d walked up to the front of the bar and was tapping the head of his handheld microphone. “Okay, shush. We’re rolling.”

The MC began reading out the rules of the game, and Sam took a long pull from his beer, only half listening. He realized that in thebustle of chance meetings and friendly introductions, his hammering heart had slowed.

“It’s got to beThe Jeffersons,” Marcus declared.

“Wasn’t the husband inI Love LucyCuban?” Brian asked, tapping the tip of the pen against their answer sheet.

“Did they even kiss, though? That show was vanilla as fuck,” Evie shot back.

Connor glanced at Sam, who was sitting across from him, eyes narrowed in concentration, and felt strangely self-conscious. He looked forward to trivia. It stoked his competitive streak and was one of the few things he was good at, but he didn’t know how that might come across to someone as accomplished as Sam.

The MC raised his mic. “One last time before we move on to the next round. Which show is widely credited as featuring the first interracial kiss on American network television?”

Connor leaned forward so that the table could hear him above the excited chatter of the other teams. “It’sStar Trek: The Original Series.”

Brian smacked a palm against his forehead. “That’s it! Finnis for the win!”

“Didn’t pick you for a Trekkie,” Sam said as Brian jotted down their answer.