Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 29

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Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 29

Eli shook off the feeling of despair and pasted on a smile. He trudged forward to catch up.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The vibe was heavy, too heavy for a morning stroll along the water. “Thanks for,
uh, talking me down from confessing to the sinkhole situation. If it wasn’t for you, I might have
let the guilt eat away at me until I called up Channel 12 News and told them everything.”
“The good people at Channel 12 would have informed you that even the most pissed-off person
can’t will a sinkhole into existence,” Nick said.
Eli sighed. “Yeah. Good ol’ Channel 12. The one—two—turn—two.” He did the old hand thing
they used to do on the local news program back in the nineties, sticking up one finger, then two,
flipping his hand around, then back. Nick did it as well, and in perfect unison.
They shared a look that turned into a laugh. Nick actually giggled, the asshole. “That was some
ancient knowledge we just displayed right there.”
“We belong in a museum,” Eli agreed.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Eli was content to let the conversation lie where
they’d left it, but Nick spoke up again.
“I know you’re not the biggest fan of New Port Stephen,” he said. “And I know you have a lot of
reasons for feeling ambivalent about being here—”
“Ambivalent? It’s more like distaste with a side order of outright hatred.”
The joke didn’t land like he intended. Nick’s face shuttered before he looked away.
Eli grimaced. “No, sorry, go ahead. I’m just shooting my mouth off.”
Nick sighed through his nose. “I was going to say: pretty much everyone in this town is here
because we have something keeping us here. Like with me, I’ve got Zoe, my dad, the
restaurant… I’m trying to make the best life I can. You can have your feelings about this place,
but I hope you get why I’m still here and not —somewhere else.”
Eli looked over at him, horrified. “Oh my god, of course I do. I mean, dude, if I was coming off
like some sort of snob, ranting about how much this town sucks—”

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“Not a snob. Borderline East Coast liberal elite, maybe.” Nick gave him a lopsided smile.
That got a laugh out of Eli. “Well, please know that any disparaging remarks I might share about
NPS are not a reflection on you. There’s no shame in living in your hometown. It’s different for
me. I couldn’t survive without at least one gay bar in a fifty-mile radius.”
Nick stopped walking and turned to Eli. “Is that so?”
Eli paused, ruffling a hand through his windswept hair. “I mean, I’m a little old to be clubbing,
but once in a blue moon? I need to be in a room full of queer people.”
“But you don’t drink,” Nick said.
“There are lots of other things to do at a gay bar.” Eli waggled his brows suggestively. “Like judge
people’s outfits.”
Nick ducked his head, but not before Eli caught the edges of his smile. “Then you will be pleased
to know,” he said, “that New Port Stephen currently boasts one of the best gay bars in the tri-
county area.”
“Wait, seriously?” Eli blinked. Several times.
“Well, it’s the only gay bar in the tri-county area, but yeah. It opened like, three years ago?”
“And how would you know this?”
“It was all over the news. They tried to get a license to serve food, but the city wouldn’t issue
the permit for some weird reason.”
“The reason was homophobia,” Eli deadpanned.
Nick didn’t even acknowledge the very good joke, too wrapped up in trying to remember the
boring details. “I think they said it was some old law that
restricted establishments with dance floors. It was the talk of the restaurateur community for
months.”
“Wow. The restaurateur community sounds like it needs to get a fucking life.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Look, do you want to go check it out or not?”
“Check out—? The gay bar? With you?”
A shrug. “Why not? Could be fun.”
Okay. Nick Wu was apparently in the running for the chillest straight person of the year. Or
maybe the most supportive friend in the state. Eli got the feeling that they were playing some

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kind of game, but as long as it wasn’t gay chicken, he didn’t see the harm. Besides, a New Port
Stephen gay club sounded like it might be rife with material. Train wrecks usually were.
“Where even is this place, allegedly?” he asked. He wouldn’t put it past Nick to pull a very
elaborate prank to get him out of his funk.
“In a shopping plaza on Route 1.” Like that narrowed it down at all. “It’s a Friday. Should be
hopping tonight.”