Page 4 of The New Place

“Pat. It’s been a damn month.”

“And you can’t stand another five minutes?” Pat waves toward a guy waiting at the bar to order. “You take care of him, and I’ll go text Abbot again.”

“I’m not a bartender.”

“And I’m not a personal concierge, but look at me now.” Pat ducks into the back with his phone.

Which leaves the guy eyeing Ned and the pint glass Pat’s pulled out.

Ned sighs. Then he steps behind the bar and washes his hands. This is some sort of food service violation, he’s sure, but he can’t care over the botched surprise.

They’ll have to try again, an hour after Ned meant all this to happen. An hour that cuts into their already short time together.

At least they have tonight. They’d be waiting for the weekend otherwise and that’s too fucking long, Ned had decided, knowing Abbot was back from his trip and that another forty-eight hours really wasn’t bearable.

“What’ll it be?” Ned asks.

“The IPA,” the guy says.

It takes Ned a moment to locate the right tap, and when he passes the glass over, the guy asks, “How much?”

Like Ned has any idea. When was the last time he paid for a beer here? Ever? He cranes to find a price on the chalkboard menu, and when he can’t, looks at Pat bent over his phone, thumbs tapping the screen. Trust him to abandon Ned out here. I’ll get Abbot there right on time, Pat had promised, gleeful with his part in the scheme.

“It’s on the house,” Ned says, and since Pat’s being so generous tonight, he can buy Ned a beer too. Ned grabs a glass and finds the spout for the pale ale as the next woman in line approaches the bar.

“Free drinks,” he tells her, tipping his glass beneath the tap, his voice loud enough Pat can hear him.

“Whatever’s quickest.”

He hands over his beer and fills another glass for himself as she downs a series of healthy swallows, then presses the back of her hand to her mouth.

“Well that was certainly quick,” Ned says, impressed.

“Do you know of a spot to go dancing?”

Dancing? Even when Ned lived here, that wasn’t on his list of typical activities. He’d stuck to watching baseball and working, and in the year since he moved, his time in Portland has shrunk to Abbot’s house.

His bedroom, specifically. Where Ned ought to be already.

“You try Old Port?” he asks. “The neighborhood down by the water? Though on a Wednesday, I’m not sure anything would be open.”

“It’s not only Wednesday. It’s the middle of the damn winter.” The woman sits heavily on the stool Ned usually occupies. She looks tired. Polished, like she just came from the office, wearing a flattering blouse and with her dark hair in a sleek bob, but she’s clearly over whatever is happening with her evening. Dancing, apparently, that she absolutely does not look in the mood for as she finishes a good portion of her remaining beer.

“You seem thrilled at the prospect,” Ned says.

“Tonight is the start of a marathon bachelorette party that extends through the entire weekend and stretches from Maine down to Boston.”

“Fun.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely not. The lovely maid of honor didn’t actually make sure there would be dancing, just promised it would happen. So I’m now fixing the situation.”

“Gotcha,” Ned says. “And you’re looking here? This place is mostly beer and wine, though Pat can whip up a mean spinach salad. It’s not exactly a nightclub.”

“Yes, food sounds amazing,” she says. “Can I get one of those while I pretend I’m doing something to help this disaster of a party?”

Good choice; Abbot really likes it, Ned nearly says. He constantly has this knee-jerk reaction to bring up Abbot in every conversation, from the moment he wakes up to when he goes to bed. He doesn’t need to embarrass himself in front of this stranger by going on about how Pat’s changed the spinach salad based on Abbot’s preferences—something about pickled onions—and that Ned doesn’t even like spinach, but he likes this salad because Abbot does, and, and, and⁠—

He pokes at the computer screen until he’s fairly sure he’s managed to send the order to the kitchen, then refills her beer. Is he supposed to get her a clean glass? Probably, but he just tops it off and slides it back to her.