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Second Chances in New Port Stephen: A Novel - Softcover

Alexander, TJ

 
9781668021965: Second Chances in New Port Stephen: A Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 166802196X ISBN 13: 9781668021965
Verlag: Atria/Emily Bestler Books, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

A trans man returns to his Florida hometown for Christmas after his career goes up in flames, only to cross paths with his high school ex in this charming rom-com about family and second chances from the author of the “delectable” (Time) Chef’s Kiss.

Eli Ward hasn’t been back to his suffocating hometown of New Port Stephen, Florida, in ages. Post-transition and sober, he’s a completely different person from the one who left years ago. But when a scandal threatens his career as a TV writer and comedian, he has no choice but to return home for the holidays. He can only hope he’ll survive his boisterous, loving, but often misguided family and hide the fact that his dream of comedy success has become a nightmare.

Just when he thinks this trip couldn’t get any worse, Eli bumps into his high school ex, Nick Wu, who’s somehow hotter than ever. Divorced and in his forties, Nick’s world revolves around his father, his daughter, and his job. But even a busy life can’t keep him from being intrigued by the reappearance of Eli.

Against the backdrop of one weird Floridian Christmas, the two must decide whether to leave the past in the past…or move on together.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

TJ Alexander is a Lambda Literary Award winner and USA Today  bestseller who writes trans and nonbinary love stories. Originally from Florida, they received their MA in writing and publishing from Emerson College in Boston. They live in New York City with their wife, cats, and various houseplants.

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Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
December 15

Eli Ward counted four MAGA flags on his parents’ street, and those were just the ones he could see in the dark.

They were mostly in tatters, having weathered years of Florida thunderstorms, some so raggedy as to be illegible. There were yard signs, too, one bent completely backward on its coat-hanger legs. Oh, and a couple matching bumper stickers slapped on the backs of SUVs.

In a perverse way, Eli was comforted by all this. At least those households were displaying their intentions; it was the homes with empty yards that made him wonder.

The truck trundled by a house that was positively festooned with star-spangled merchandise. Eli craned his neck to take in the scene on the driver’s side. Jesus, they’d decorated the signage with red Christmas lights, giving everything a decidedly demonic cast. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a fervent display of right-wing sentiment—he’d been on the road during election season, when there were pockets of it everywhere: the Midwest, the South, Upstate New York—but it felt different here in New Port Stephen, where he’d grown up.

He glanced at his cousin in the driver’s seat, but Max didn’t seem to register the house, eyes firmly on the road. When had the kid gotten old enough to drive? Eli’s most enduring memories of Max were from Facebook photos of a toddler picking clover. It just didn’t compute with the lanky beanpole in combat boots and a billion necklaces who’d picked him up from the airport. Bit of a queer vibe, but who knew what teens were like these days. He should probably make an effort to find out, at least when it came to his own flesh and blood.

Eli cleared his throat. “So, uh, how’s school going?” Great opener. He only sounded about nine hundred years old.

Max gave an eye roll because that’s what teens did; it wasn’t because Eli was irredeemably uncool, surely. “It’ll be better in a few months. When it’s over.”

That gave Eli pause. “Wait. You’re graduating this year? Seriously?”

“I’m eighteen,” Max drawled, guiding the truck along a snakelike bend. “I know the Florida public school system hasn’t improved much since you were in it, but they did teach me simple addition.”

Eli resisted the urge to fling himself from the slow-moving vehicle to hide in a ditch, where he could spend the rest of his twilight years without being sassed by young’uns. “And how is Port Stephen Prep these days?” Seemed polite to ask, like the school was some mutual acquaintance of theirs.

“Closed. Hurricane damage.” Max shrugged. “No one’s sure when it’ll reopen; some fight about who pays for the repairs. I might have to finish the year out at Southern.”

“That sucks,” Eli offered.

“Not really. It’s all the same,” Max said.

Couldn’t argue with that. Eli looked out the window, letting his breath make a circle of fog on the glass. The house he’d grown up in finally came into view. For the first time in almost twenty years, Eli was back.

The driveway was packed with cars, so Max parked on the street. Eli took his time unbuckling his seatbelt, staring at his parents’ house through the passenger window. Of all the houses he’d seen so far, it was the most decorated for the holidays. Eli’s dad had always gone a little overboard with the lights back in the day, but this was something else.

Eli got out of the truck to take in the full effect of the Christmas display. Strand after strand of multicolored lights flickered in a repeating pattern. The eaves were dripping in lights, as were the azalea bushes out front. And the squat cabbage palm in the flower bed. And the mailbox. And the arch of the carport. And a million other things, probably, that Eli’s overwhelmed eyes hadn’t yet noticed. A half dozen holiday characters sat on the lawn, including a plastic Santa wearing a Panama hat and an inflatable Rudolph with a glowing red nose. The rest of the reindeer were represented by pink flamingos with felt antlers glued to their heads.

“Dad really went all out, huh?” he said to Max, who was getting his suitcase from the bed of the truck.

“You should have seen it a couple years ago.” Max slammed the tailgate shut. “It was like Disney World. Tons of people came to take photos.” A shrug. “Uncle Wen said this year he wanted to scale it back. Tasteful or whatever.”

Eli watched as a robotic deer outlined in bright white lights lifted its head from the front yard’s grass, swiveled it around Exorcist-style, and, apparently satisfied that no Christmas predators were close by, lowered back down to fake-eat.

“Huh,” Eli said. “Tasteful.” He took his suitcase from Max.

As they neared the wreath-bedecked front door, Eli could hear the clamor of overlapping voices and Christmas music. He took a deep breath and held his suitcase handle in a white-knuckled grip. Why had he flown in tonight of all nights? He should have waited one more day. He should have found another couch to crash on. He shouldn’t even be here.

No. This was going to be fine. There were worse things than a family holiday party. A party was just a performance, and he was used to performing. Sure, he hadn’t actually been onstage in over a year, but it was like riding a bike. Probably. He hadn’t done that in decades, so he couldn’t be sure.

The door was unlocked as usual, and Eli stepped inside. He had just enough time to get a vague impression of the house: Christmas kitsch on every available surface and stuffed to the gills with people, most of whom he didn’t recognize. Probably his parents’ friends and co-workers. A few turned to give him polite nods, clutching their red Solo cups. Bluetooth speakers scattered around the room belted out that song that went, “So this is Christmas…” The John Lennon version, not Céline, because life wasn’t fair.

“Eli’s home!” A woman with gray-streaked hair swooped out of the throng of people, caftan flapping. Her Bakelite bangles—red and green, naturally—clinked as she wrapped Eli in a fierce hug. She still wore plumeria perfume. “You made it,” Cora Ward said right into his ear.

“I made it,” Eli said, hugging back with one arm. She felt smaller than he remembered. Were his parents shrinking? He certainly wasn’t getting any bigger. The T had done all it was going to do at this point. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy a moment of floral-scented comfort.

“Hey, son.” Giddy emphasis on the son. Eli opened his eyes to find his dad standing by with his arms held wide. What hair remained on his head was grayer than the last time Eli had seen him last year. He wore a navy sweater vest over his long-sleeved button-down, and his glasses were horn-rimmed. His mustache was neatly trimmed, but not too thin because he felt that was the mark of a pervert, which Eli still thought about every time he trimmed his own Selleck-esque ’stache.

In short, Wendall Ward looked like a librarian because he was one. Cora had been a librarian, too, until she’d retired the year prior.

“Hi, Dad.” Eli released his mom to hug him.

A flurry of activity followed.

“Where’s Max? Max, get in here!”

“Close the door; the cat’s been trying to get out all night.”

“How was the flight? Let me take...

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Verlag
Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2023
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
166802196X
ISBN 13 
9781668021965
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
352
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Simon and Schuster Netherlands BV
info@simonandschuster.nl

Herculesplein 96
Utrecht
3584 AA
Niederlande