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Pelican Town was a fresh start for Elliott.
Out of the shadow of his family; of the skyscrapers of the city. Here he was Elliott the aspiring novelist, a whimsical man always overdressed and often disappearing in his work for days at a time.
Despite the occasionally hermitage he did attempt to make friends. Rather successfully, where Leah and Willy were concerned.
But there was a single issue that continuously threw a wrench in his assimilation.
“You’re coming to the saloon for my birthday,” Leah insisted on their walk.
“Leah…”
“I don’t care!” She laughed sharply. “You are going and meeting people and I don’t care how many times you say you don’t really like drinking when I’ve gone through three times as much wine since you started coming over.”
“Why are you counting?” Elliott whined.
“I’m not counting but someone has to buy all the wine you drink!”
Elliott pursed his lips.
“Uhuh.”
“Touche. I will pay you back if necessary.”
“No it’s not necessary, that’s not the point!”
She had him cornered. How could he refuse her on her birthday? He told himself that he just wouldn’t drink, or maybe Gus wouldn’t even ask for his ID because he looked old enough. Small towns didn’t really care as much, right?
Elliott groaned. “Fine.”
“Yay!” Leah jumped and kissed him on the cheek.
The saloon was warm and inviting. It was all wood everywhere, with dim yellow lighting and a jukebox playing music with an occasional fuzzy skip. A taxidermied bear roared silently from a corner. Elliott was observing its glass eyes from his seat at the bar as Leah chatted with Emily.
“The infamous Elliott!”
His attention was pulled to the jolly mustachioed barman now suddenly in front of him. Gus. He’d seen him in passing, but…
“You’ve been here how many months and haven’t come to see me?” Gus asked with a sly smile.
Elliott straightened and attempted a haughty laugh. “Oh you know, I’ve been so busy with my writing, and I simply don’t drink all that much I’m afraid.”
“Bullshit,” Leah leaned into his side. “He’s just shy. Anyway!” She drummed against the bar. “Shots! A round of tequila shots on Elliott please!”
“On me?!” Elliott’s voice went unfortunately high and he winced.
“It’s the least you can do for the birthday girl. Plus you said you’d pay me back.”
Elliott looked up and down the bar at their party. Willy to his left, Leah, Marnie, Lewis, Clint, and himself made six. He could afford six shots. Probably. Surely they were cheaper than in city bars, at least.
“Of course my dear, anything for you,” he managed.
“Next round is on you, Lewis!” Leah called across the bar to him.
Gus leaned on the bar in front of him so Elliott tuned out Lewis’ objections.
Gus was handsome. Interesting too, because he styled his mustache in a vintage style that conveyed he took care of himself, but only for himself. Elliott liked that.
“Well, time for the ole rite of passage, then. Got your ID?” he asked coolly, his amber eyes sparkling.
Elliott’s heart dropped. He knew his face was probably going white and didn’t know how he would cover it up.
He scrambled for anything suave. What would suave, aspiring-novelist Elliott say? Maybe play it off as complimenting his youthful appearance. But what if he took it as flirting and insulted the man accidentally? Small towns weren’t exactly known for being the most accepting.
So he went with something more neutral.
“Oh, I’m plenty old enough, I assure you.” His laugh came out more nervous than intended and Gus’s brow furrowed.
Leah interjected again. “Tequila tequuuuiiiila,” she sang and playfully jostled his arm. “What is it?”
“I um…”
He couldn’t hear the jukebox anymore. Did it suddenly get hotter? He heard himself mentioning his ID, as he started removing his wallet from his coat.
Even as he took it out, he considered running away. But he held the ID out facedown for Gus with a nearly trembling hand.
This was a nightmare. This was simply a nightmare, it had to be. He had just started settling in. He was living how he wanted. He loved Pelican Town.
But he saw it all crumbling away with the hesitation in Gus' eyes.
What he would see on the ID was a woman named Emma Lancaster. Shorter hair, same eyes, a softer face.
Then suddenly it’s as if nothing happened. He can hear the music again and Gus is handing him the ID back facedown and calling to Emily to get the tequila.
Elliott wanted to cry. From relief, from terror, he didn’t know. All of it.
He drank the shot like it was holy water, and got more wasted than he had in years to try and forget that his secret was out.
Elliott hid for days.
From the fallout. The gossip. The world to come crashing down on him. But it didn’t.
Actually the only thing to come was a knock at his door a few days later.
He expected it to be Leah, but when he peeked through the curtain, it was Gus.
“Oh Yoba,” Elliott muttered and raced around the cabin to get decent and brush his hair, all the while playing every excuse.
Maybe he would lie and say that was his sister. Or a prank? What if he was here to blackmail him?
He scrubbed his face and silently screamed into his hands before pulling it together and opening the door with a smile.
“Hello, Gus,” he said smoothly, spying a bag of takeout hanging behind Gus’ back.
The older man looked winded from the journey, his cheeks pink with exertion.
"Hi Elliott, um, I hope this isn't a bad time..." he trailed off, looking remarkably more shy than he’d been at the saloon.
It was unexpected and disarming, and Elliott leaned against the doorway casually. "No, how can I help you?"
Gus glanced at Elliott’s neck before meeting his eyes again. "I was hoping to catch you in the saloon but I haven't seen you since the other night and uh.. I just want to let you know you're safe with me -- here, I mean, you're safe, here. You have friends here." He cleared his throat and shifted in place.
Oh. Oh.
Elliott’s smile turned genuine. "Thank you. That means a lot, actually... would you like to come in?"
If it was possible Gus got even redder, his mustache curving with his sweet smile. “I’d love to.”