Authors: Brad Boney
“Can you go to my house and text me from Ian’s phone? Use your key to get in. The phone’s on the charger next to my bed. The password is 3946. I put Ryan in my contacts. Text him to save the corner table for Quentin’s study group.”
“I’m on it,” Mark said. “How’s it going?”
“So far, so good. Matthew noticed I’m wearing Ian’s shoes. I think I covered okay, though.”
“Damn. Shoes, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Those laces are very distinctive. That boy has the eyes of a hawk. You need to be careful around him.”
“I got it under control.”
“Okay. Give me a few minutes to get over to your house.”
Ryan returned to the bar and purposefully sat his phone on the counter next to the register, where Matthew could see it. About ten minutes later, a text came through. Matthew fell right into the trap and glanced down. “Hey, look. You got a text from Uncle Ian. How cute.”
“Why does everyone think it’s cute that I call him Uncle Ian?” Ryan picked up his phone and opened the text. He showed it to Matthew and asked, “Do you know what this means?”
“Oh shit,” Matthew said. “I forgot all about that.” He grabbed the red “Reserved” sign from under the bar and went into the seating area. A young woman was studying at the large corner table, so Matthew charmed her into moving and then slapped the sign on top. He smiled and walked back to the bar.
“What was that all about?” Ryan asked.
“Your uncle reserves the corner table for a freshman study group every Friday night.”
“Who’s Quentin?”
“One of the students in the group. Don’t ask me why your uncle feels obligated to kiss his ass. Text him back and tell him I took care of everything. And tell him I’m sorry about his mom.”
Ryan typed in the response, and Ian thought,
Kiss his ass? Is that what everyone thinks I’m doing
?
An hour later, Quentin and his gang arrived. As soon as they saw Ryan behind the bar instead of Ian, they whispered under their breath and glanced sideways at each other. Ian reminded himself that Ryan didn’t know any of them, and they obviously didn’t know him.
Quentin walked up to the bar.
“Can I help you?” Ryan asked.
He got no response. Quentin just stared at him. Ryan stared back and tried to remain calm.
“Do you want to see a menu?”
“Where’s Ian?” Quentin asked.
“He’s in Phoenix. My grandma had emergency surgery, so he’s helping my grandpa take care of her.”
“Who are you?”
Ryan laughed. “Sorry, I’m his nephew. I offered to help out while he’s in Arizona. I’m watching his house too.”
“Ah. I could never imagine Ian as a young man, but he probably looked a lot like you.”
“I’ve been told there’s a certain family resemblance around the eyes.”
“If you want to see a family resemblance, I’ll drag my three brothers in here and show you a textbook case.”
“Your name’s Quentin, right?”
“How did you know that?”
Ryan grinned and took out his phone. He showed Quentin the text from Ian. “My uncle messaged me earlier about your table.”
“Oh. Well, okay. That was nice of him. I see you got an S5. That’s a sweet phone. What’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
Quentin reached out and shook his hand, then nodded his head toward Matthew, who had finished busing tables on the other side of the room. “What’s it like working with Harry Styles, over there?”
Ryan laughed. “He’s nice.”
“If you ask me, a person who’s that good looking should at least have the decency to be a moron.”
“He seems pretty bright to me.”
“Figures.”
“Would you like to order?”
“Oh, right.” Quentin looked over at his friends, then turned back. He took a credit card out of his pocket and handed it to Ryan. “I’ll take two skim lattes, a skim mocha, and two espressos.”
Ryan took the card, swiped it, and handed it back to Quentin. He stepped over to the machine and churned out the five drinks like a pro. He set them on a tray and pushed it across the bar.
“Looks like you’ve done that before,” Quentin said.
“For an entire summer three years ago.”
“Really? You mean at another coffee shop?”
“No,” Ryan said. “Here at La Tazza.”
Quentin looked confused but didn’t press it any further. “Okay. If you talk to your uncle, tell him I hope his mom gets better real soon. Phoenix you said, right?”
“Right.”
“And you’re from…?”
“San Diego.”
“Really? California. Nice beaches.”
“You’ve been?”
“Last year,” Quentin said. “Anyway, thanks for the excellent service.”
He walked away, and Ryan took a deep breath.
Matthew came up behind him and said, “That kid’s a real smartass, isn’t he?”
“Why do you say that?”
“He called me Harry last week, and I don’t look anything like Prince Harry. I’m not even a ginger.”
“I think he meant another Harry,” Ryan said.
“Which one? Potter? I do not look like—”
“No, Styles.”
“Who’s that?”
“The lead singer of One Direction.”
“The boy band?” Matthew asked.
“I think he meant it as a compliment.”
“Somehow I doubt that. If he listens to One Direction, then he’s got shit for taste on top of being a smartass. Rock, paper, scissors to see who washes glasses?”
“Sure.”
They pounded their fists against their palms three times, and Ryan formed a rock.
Matthew extended two fingers and said, “Terrific.” He picked up the tub filled with cups and glasses. “I’ll be in the back if you need help. Just give me a holler.”
“Will do.”
Matthew disappeared into the rear of the café, and Ryan sat down on one of the stools behind the bar. With no one in line to order, he took out his phone and opened his YouTube app. He started to watch an episode of
Hollyoaks
, but he barely got past the opening credits when Bartley walked through the north door. Ryan looked up and smiled. He would only get one chance to make a first impression.
Play it cool
. Ryan stood up and shoved the phone into his pocket. Bartley approached the bar, looking seriously hot in jeans and a plain white T-shirt.
God, I want to marry you
.
“Welcome to La Tazza Magica. Can I take your order?”
“Are you Ian’s nephew?”
“I’m Ryan. And you are…?”
“Sorry.” He offered his hand. “I’m James. Bartley James.”
Ryan shook it. “I like your tattoo. What does it mean?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of keeping that a secret for now. I just got it last week.”
“Oh, cool. Are you the architect?”
“Ian told you about me?”
“He said something about dinner plans with an architect named Bartley and that he didn’t have your number. He’s sorry he stood you up. How do you know who I am?”
“I’m a regular here,” Bartley said. “I noticed your uncle went AWOL earlier in the week, so I asked Colleen if she knew anything. She told me about his mom and that his nephew would be flying in from San Diego to help out. You’re the new guy behind the counter, so I figured you must be him. I can definitely see a resemblance around the eyes. So how’s your grandma doing?”
“She’s stable now. My grandpa’s old too, so he can’t do everything by himself until she’s up and about.”
“Were you raised in San Diego?”
“Born and bred,” Ryan said.
“Do you surf?”
“I do. That’s the first thing I miss whenever I leave California. Do you surf?”
“I did for a few years in college. I went to undergrad at Cal Poly.”
“Sweet. I love San Luis Obispo.” Ryan figured he had to ask questions to which Ian already knew the answers. “Where’d you go to grad school?”
Rice
.
“Rice.”
“I did a year at UC San Diego.”
“You make it sound like you were in the slammer.”
“That’s pretty much how it felt,” Ryan said. “I’m not cut out for college. I want to do something with my hands, so I’m looking for a carpentry class while I’m in town.”
“I know a guy who makes his own furniture, if you want me to talk to him. He has a small storefront in South Austin, and I think he even teaches a workshop or something. If you’re interested.”
Ryan interpreted Bartley’s eagerness to help as an encouraging sign. “That would be fantastic. Thank you.”
“How long will Ian be gone?”
“Hard to say. A few weeks, maybe all summer. This is kind of an open-ended gig.”
Bartley didn’t mask his disappointment.
“Are you okay?” Ryan said.
“I was just looking forward to our dinner, that’s all. Your uncle seems like a good guy, and I could use one of those in my life right now.”
Ryan saw his opening and said, “I know I’m no replacement, but….”
“What?”
“Maybe I could treat you to dinner in exchange for a guided tour of downtown? Next week sometime. Unless…. Were you two going on a date?”
“No. It was just as friends.”
“Then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I haven’t been to Austin in a while and would appreciate someone showing me around the city.”
Bartley hesitated but then said, “Sure, I’d be happy to. But would you mind giving me Ian’s number? I’d really like to talk to him.”
Ryan wasn’t crazy about the idea, but it made no sense that he would say no. He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Bartley. “He’s in my contacts. Why don’t you put your number in there while you’re at it?”
Bartley took the phone and pulled out his own. He tapped back and forth between the two devices. “Why do you only have three contacts?”
“It’s a new phone. I haven’t transferred everything over yet.”
Matthew came out from the back and said, “Hey, Mr. James.”
Bartley looked up. “Hi, Matthew.” He handed the phone to Ryan. “Give me a call this weekend, and we’ll set something up.”
“I’ll do that. Did you want something to drink?”
“I think that’s why I came in here. A double-skim latte to go, please.”
Ryan made the drink as Matthew hovered over him. When Ryan finished, he set the paper cup on the bar. “That will be four twenty-five.” Bartley paid with cash, left his customary seventy-five cent tip, and exited the shop.
Matthew immediately turned on Ryan. “Did you just ask Bartley James out on a date?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Do you even know he’s your uncle’s crush?”
Ian had not foreseen this complication. “I didn’t know that,” Ryan said, “but I wasn’t asking him out on a date. I was giving him Uncle Ian’s phone number.”
“Then why did he tell you to give him a call this weekend to set something up?”
“Because Uncle Ian said I should ask Bartley to show me around town. So I did.”
“Well, when he said that, I don’t think Ian meant for the tour to include Bartley’s bedroom.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Ryan. Look at you. You’re practically salivating.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s totally innocent.”
Matthew scoffed. “Dude, you just told me what your type is. Older brother? The kind of guy who could whisk you off to Monte Carlo? In other words, Bartley James.”
“First of all, don’t ‘dude’ me. And second of all, it was Saint-Tropez, not Monte Carlo.”
“Same difference. Look, we both know that Bartley’s the kind of guy you’re into. But if you sleep with him, you’ll be stabbing your uncle in the back. He and I talked about this last week. Bartley had just asked him out, and he was upset that it was only as friends.”
“Okay,” Ryan said. “I didn’t know that. But I haven’t done anything wrong. Uncle Ian said Bartley is a cool guy and he knows the city really well. All I did was offer to buy him dinner in exchange for a guided tour of downtown. I haven’t stabbed anyone in the back.”
“Fine. But you’d better be careful. He’s a player. I’m sure of it. If he tries anything, just—”
“I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Matthew said under his breath.
“What are you implying?”
“We both know that everything’s ‘totally innocent’ until it’s not. See that sign above the door?
Don’t be a dick
. Words to live by.”
Ryan looked at the clock. “I need to take a piss.” He walked away and into the restroom. Ian pulled out Ryan’s phone and called Mark.
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” Ian said. “Everything I say has the potential to blow up in my face.”
“It’s not as easy as they make it look in the movies, is it?”
“No. It’s not. Can you come over when I get off work? We need to talk.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I
F
THERE
’
S
one thing I’d like to get out of this reboot, other than the chance to correct every mistake I’ve ever made in my life, it’s the chance to date Bartley James.” Ian was sitting in his kitchen with Mark shortly after midnight. Mark had a glass of wine in front of him and Ian a glass of milk.
“Who’s Bartley James?” Mark asked.
“The architect.”
“Ah, I see. Okay, continue.”
“As Ryan I’m in his target demo and I’m HIV negative. Win, win. But Matthew figured out that Ian had a crush on Bartley before we went to Denver, so now Ryan can’t pursue him without Matthew thinking he’s a total douchebag.”
“You’re going to have to repeat that about four more times before it makes any sense at all.”
Ian took a drink of milk and swallowed. “The night before we went to Denver, Matthew asked if I was into Bartley.”
“And who’s Matthew again?”
“The new guy at work. A senior at UT. I hired him about two weeks ago.”
“Okay. So how did he know you liked Barkley?”
“It’s
Bartley
. He saw me give him a free sandwich and he could tell by the way I acted around him.”
“Was this before or after Bartley asked you to dinner as friends?”
“Immediately after. So this evening, Bartley comes into La Tazza. He and Ryan seem to hit it off. He even offers to help me find a carpentry class.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to be a carpenter.”
“Neither did I. I’ve only been thinking about it for a few months. Anyway, when I tell Bartley that Ian may be gone all summer, he looks disappointed. I see an opening and offer to treat him to dinner in exchange for showing me around town. We trade phone numbers, and as Matthew walks up to the counter, Bartley says, ‘Give me a call this weekend and we’ll set something up.’”