Chapter 7

He takes the readers off and places them back on his desk. “Dustin told me you didn’t deny these details to him.”

“And you told me that you didn’t want to get to know me.”

“Touché,” he says, smirks at me, and continues with our meeting as if the quarterback/beating topic was never brought up. Linton inquires, “What kind of work would you like to do to get on your feet?”

“Something in the queer community.”

He shuffles through a dozen or more pages on his desk and pulls two stapled pieces of papers out and hands me them. “Read over this.”

I do. It’s a full-time job at a bookstore on Meldon Street called Poe’s Books. One of the last independently-owned stores in the city. I know about the place and have picked up a paperback or two there in my time. “The job will work for me,” I tell him.

“First you have to apply and interview for the position. I can help you do this. It’s what my company pays me to do.”