Yes (11 page)

“I see where this is going.”

“Bartley leaves, and Matthew turns on me. ‘Did you just ask Bartley out on a date?’ and ‘Don’t you know that’s your uncle’s crush?’ and ‘If you sleep with him you’ll be stabbing Ian in the back.’ I mean, what a drama queen. He could tell Ryan liked Bartley too. He’s got some sixth sense or something.”

“What did you say?”

“I claimed ignorance and innocence. I told him I didn’t know Ian liked Bartley. I told him it wasn’t a date and that Ian said I should ask Bartley to show me around. Matthew was like, ‘Everything is innocent until it’s not.’ Now, if I try to date Bartley, Matthew’s going to think I’m a dick.”

“So?”

“So I’m not a dick. I’m Ian. I can’t stab myself in the back.”

“But he doesn’t know that.”

Ian shook his head. “You’re being absolutely no help.”

“If you’re so enamored with this Bartley character, then why have you been hooking up with guys on Grindr and giving your number to the pizza boy?”

“Oh, give me a break. That happened on the first night. You, of all people, will not slut-shame me for going a little crazy, especially considering what my life’s been like the past few years.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Besides, it was
one
guy on Grindr.”

“Admit it. You liked the attention.”

“That’s irrelevant. I’m talking about me and Bartley now. What if we were supposed to meet ten years ago? What if something happened and we got blown off course? He went to grad school, and I went to Hawaii and let that guy fuck me without a condom. Maybe Manick Butter is the universe’s way of hitting the reset button and fixing my mistakes.”

Mark took a sip from his glass of wine. “Okay, here’s what you do. Tell Matthew you talked to Ian. You asked if he liked Bartley, and Ian said no.”

“But Matthew knows that’s not true.”

“And he’s right. Look, go back to being Ian for a minute and let’s play this out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before all this happened, you were a forty-year-old man with a ten-year-old nephew named Ryan. I’ve seen you with that kid. You love him to death, and you’d do anything for him. Am I right?”

Ian hunched forward. “You’re right.”

“So imagine it’s ten years from now, and the real Ryan grows up to be a fine young man who also happens to be gay. He comes to visit and hits it off with someone you have a crush on. You’ve never been on a date with this guy. You have no claim on him whatsoever. All you have is your fantasy. What would you do?”

“That’s easy. I’d put Ryan first, step aside, and encourage him to ask the guy out on a date.”

“Exactly. And when you tell Matthew that….”

“He’s going to figure out why Ian said he doesn’t like Bartley.”

“Bingo. It’s a perfect setup. There’s no way he can judge you if you’ve told Ian everything and have his blessing. In the meantime, stick to your story that it’s not a date and find a way to diffuse Matthew’s sixth sense. The best way to throw a dog off the scent is to give him another scent.”

“Distract him from me and Bartley?”

“Preferably with someone else.”

“Hmm. That could work.”

“How did the rest of your day go?” Mark asked.

“Fine. Something was off with Quentin Walsh.”

“Is he any relation to Ben Walsh?”

“They’re brothers. How do you know who Ben Walsh is?”

Mark laughed. “Every lawyer in Texas knows who Ben Walsh is. Have you met him?”

Ian nodded. “I knew their father. He started coming into La Tazza the week it opened. Brought the whole family. Except for Ben, of course. He’s only been back in Austin for about three years. He and his boyfriend, Travis, and his brothers come in for Jeopardy Pursuit Night every month. They’ve won the last three in a row.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“I didn’t think it was important. Besides, you hate Jeopardy Pursuit Night.”

“It never occurred to you that I might want to meet Ben Walsh?” Mark asked. “He’s like a frigging rock star among lawyers.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“So what does his brother have to do with this?”

“Quentin’s part of a freshman study group that comes in every Friday evening. I reserve a table for them. When Quentin met Ryan tonight, he gave him this strange look at the end of the conversation. I have no idea what it was about.”

“When is Jeopardy Pursuit Night again?”

“The second Thursday of every month,” Ian said. “You’re not going to show up just to meet Ben Walsh, are you?”

“I never said I hated Jeopardy Pursuit Night.”

“You said it was suburban.”

“Which is true,” Mark admitted.

“You said it with disdain.”

“Don’t editorialize. So you’ve met Travis too? What’s he like?”

“Very sweet. He and the youngest brother handle all the sports questions.”

“So everything went okay with Colleen?”

“Perfect. She’s off all weekend to write a seminar paper. I’m opening in the morning, so I need to get some sleep. Thanks for coming over, though. You know I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I know that.” Mark stood up. “Are you working all day?”

“I’m working all weekend. You should drop in at some point to say hi to Ryan. Certainly they’ve met before, but we want to get their friendship off the ground.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. It won’t be until Sunday, though.”

M
ARK
LEFT
the house, and Ian went into the bedroom. He checked Ian’s phone and found a voice message from an unknown number.

Hey, Ian. This is Bartley. I hope you don’t mind, but your nephew gave me your number. I wanted to call and say sorry about your mother. Ryan told me you might be gone for a while, so looks like we’ll have to postpone our dinner. I was kind of…. Never mind. Anyway, Ryan suggested I show him around a little. I wanted to talk to you and see if that’s okay. So… give me a call when you get a chance. I’ll talk to you later.

Ian saved Bartley’s number to his contacts but decided it was too late to call him back.

R
YAN
OPENED
La Tazza at eight the next morning. Teresa, the barista on duty, had little to say, and Ryan spent most of the morning in the office, paying bills and logging purchase orders. With Colleen gone and the door closed, he dropped the training act and did things in Ian’s efficient manner.

Since Ian could only call Bartley from the house, he took a break around two o’clock and went home. He sat down on his bed with Ian’s phone. He practiced lowering his voice and then dialed Bartley’s number. It rang three times.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Bartley. This is Ian.”

“Hey, Ian. I’m glad you called me back. How’s your mom doing?”

“Better. Looks like it’s going to be a slow recovery, though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” Ian said. “I’m glad I can be here to help. Ryan’s certainly saving my ass.”

“I met him last night. Seems like a good kid. But can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Is he straight?”

Ian was dumbfounded. How did he get through that whole conversation with Bartley without establishing Ryan’s sexual orientation?

“No. Ryan is gay.”

“Okay,” Bartley said. “That makes more sense. When I met him, I just assumed he was straight. But then he suggested we have dinner, and I wasn’t so sure. He also asked me to show him around town. Are you okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like you and I were going on a date or anything.”

“I know. I just thought…. Never mind. I didn’t want you to hear about it and think I was moving in on your nephew.”

“Bartley, he’s twenty-one years old. He’s an adult. I want him to meet someone nice and dependable, and if that someone turns out to be you, even better. At least I know you’re a good guy.”

“Hold on a second. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not interested in asking Ryan on a date. I’m showing him around a bit. As a favor to you.”

Ian didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Okay, if you say so. But Ryan and I have been close since he came out, and you’re exactly his type. You should give him a chance.”

“Oh. Well, he seems like a nice guy. It’s just…. He’s a little young, and—”

“I thought you liked younger guys,” Ian said.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because of all the dates you’ve brought into La Tazza.”

“Dates? I haven’t brought any dates into La Tazza.”

“Come on, Bartley. I’ve seen you with at least three college guys.”

“Those weren’t dates. I mentor three architecture students from UT. We meet every other month or so to talk about their career options. You thought I’ve been dating college boys this whole time?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Well, I haven’t. In fact, I haven’t dated anyone since Mason and I broke up.”

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. But I hope you’ll give Ryan a chance and show him around. He doesn’t know anyone, and he’s way more mature than most guys his age.”

“I would be happy to show him around,” Bartley said. “Look, you sound a little stressed out, so I’m going to let you go. I just wanted to make sure everything’s cool.”

“I appreciate the call. Really, I do. But you’re right—I’m a little stressed out. Living with my father and brother again hasn’t been an easy situation.”

“I can only imagine. You’re doing the right thing, though.”

“I suppose.”

“Rain check?”

Ian was confused. “For what?”

“Our dinner. When you get back?”

“Oh. Sure,” Ian said. “Rain check. Definitely.”

Ian ended the call. He sat on the bed and stared at the wall. A little young? How could he have been wrong about that? An alert sounded on his phone. Ian looked down and saw a text from another unknown number. He opened it and read:

hey ryan, this is sam, the pizza guy… what up?

Ryan:
hey sam… heading back to work… gonna be there all weekend

Sam:
you wanna hang out some night next week? i’m free tues and wed

Ian knew Matthew usually worked at four on Wednesdays, and he saw an opportunity to throw him off the scent.

Ryan:
wed is cool… can we meet at la tazza magica at 5? it’s a coffee shop… i’m working there while i’m in town

Sam:
sure… don’t know where but I can figure it out

Ryan:
sweet… c u then

He added Sam to his contacts and returned to La Tazza. Matthew had the day off, and Bartley didn’t come in for a latte. Timothy replaced Teresa at four, and by ten things were slow enough that Ryan let Timothy go home.

Around ten thirty, a young man walked through the east door and up to the bar. He wore slim-cut jeans, a white shirt, a dark blue silk tie, and a light blue checked double-breasted blazer, with a black messenger bag flung over his left shoulder. He had jet-black hair, green eyes, and pale skin. Ian would have used the term
pretty
to describe him, had it not been for the sonorous tone of his voice.

“Hello. My name is Alexander Marlow.”

Ryan reached out and shook his hand. “I’m Ryan Parker.”

“Would it be possible to speak with Ian Parker?”

Alexander Marlow possessed a rich, masculine, and utterly seductive voice. Every word he spoke reverberated like a cello in the lowest part of its register. Ian could think of only one other person with that kind of deep bass voice—Lance Alexander, the porn star.

“Has my inquiry offended you in some manner?”

“Sorry,” Ryan said as he snapped out of his thoughts. “No, I wasn’t offended. It’s just… my uncle is in Phoenix. I’m Ian’s nephew. I’m running things while he’s out of town.”

“I see.” Alexander Marlow sighed. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve witnessed that exact expression several times in the past year alone.”

“What expression?”

“You associate the sound of my voice with that of one Lance Alexander, an actor currently employed in the gay pornographic film industry. Am I correct?”

“How did you know that?”

“You would not be the first person to make the comparison, nor, I suspect, will you be the last. It’s not as if I harbor any objection. On the contrary, I find Mr. Alexander, with whom I also share a name, to be quite attractive. And I find his voice both harmonically resonant as well as aurally pleasing.”

“Have you ever watched any of his scenes?”

“No, I admit I have not. I did watch a short interview with him on the YouTube machine, out of curiosity. I fear he has a rather simple disposition.”

“Are you trying to say he’s stupid?”

Alexander Marlow smiled but remained silent.

“What did you want to talk to my uncle about?”

“I have been tasked with the organization of a social custom known as happy hour. A group of architecture students wish to celebrate their graduation. Ergo, I find myself scouting possible locations. Bartley James suggested I speak with Mr. Parker. Mr. James is one of our mentors, and my working assumption is that he purchases a caffeinated beverage at this location on a daily, or at least semidaily, basis. Thus, he’s formed a bond with the owner, in this case your uncle, which naturally led Bartley to recommend La Tazza Magica to me.”

“You use a lot of words.”

“I am aware of that fact, and yet I find there is virtually nothing I can do to control the number of words I use to express myself. If you added or subtracted even one, I would cease to be me.”

“Okay, it wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“Nor was it taken as one.”

“How big is your group?”

“The count currently stands at forty-two, which Douglas Adams famously posited as the meaning of life. Personally, however, I do not believe there is any relationship between the two data points. Regardless of this fact, you should prepare for a variance of plus or minus two percent. One must always consider the possibility that a stray parent will show up unexpectedly. Or, as in my case, not.”

“What night?” Ryan asked.

“Friday, May 16.”

“That’s right during graduation.”

“Congratulations. You have correctly placed the date within the context of the academic calendar.”