Yes (19 page)

“Hmm. I never would have guessed Ryan would go for someone like Matthew.” Ian knew he should stop talking, but he couldn’t help himself. Then someone knocked on the office door, and Ryan hung up the phone in a panic. He jumped out of his chair and said, “Come in.” Teresa opened the door and told him she needed help. “I’ll be right there.”

He redialed Bartley. “I’m sorry, I hung up by mistake. My dad needs some help with the washing machine, so I gotta run.”

“I understand. We’ll talk soon?”

“You can count on it.”

“I’m glad you picked up the phone this time,” Bartley said.

“Me too.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Come home soon. I miss your smiling face.”

Ian hung up the phone and said, “What on earth have I done?”

R
YAN
LEFT
the office and stepped behind the counter to help Teresa. Once the wave of customers passed, he went outside and dialed Mark.

“Why are you calling me from Ian’s number? Are you at home?”

“No,” Ian said. “I’m on the patio at La Tazza. I was in a rush this morning and grabbed the wrong phone.”

“What could you possibly have to tell me at eight thirty on a Saturday morning?”

“I thought everything was fucked up last night. Turns out that was just a curtain raiser.”

“How much damage could you have done in twelve hours?”

“Ryan spent the night with Matthew, but then this morning Bartley told Ian he’s HIV positive too and has wanted to ask him out for months.” Mark didn’t respond. “Hello?”

“I heard you. It’s a lot to take in before I’ve had my first cup of coffee. Give me a minute, will you? Did you at least play safe with Matthew?” Ryan didn’t respond. “Are you kidding me? What happened to the biggest mistake of your life? Are you going to repeat it all over again?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing,” Mark said.

“I didn’t know the guy in Honolulu. I was on vacation, and he was so much hotter than me, and we were both doing coke. Matthew’s not anonymous. He’s not lying to me. He’s negative. I’m negative. We can’t give each other something we don’t have.”

“You don’t even sound like Ian anymore.”

“We all take risks, Mark. We just draw the line about what’s acceptable at different places. I’m okay with what I did.”

“You’re okay, or Ryan is?”

“We’re getting off track. We haven’t even talked about the fact that Bartley likes me.”

“Correction—Bartley likes Ian. You’re not Ian anymore, remember?”

“I know that. Shit, this is so screwed up.”

“Is it time to call Enchantmints and talk to Tad?” Mark asked. “Maybe Mrs. Brown knows of a way to reverse this. You could go back to being Ian and live happily ever after with Bartley.”

Ian looked up into one of the trees and saw a robin building a nest in the branches. “I think that’s a good idea. Can you meet me at my house around six?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thank you. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, Mark. I really do. I’ll talk to you later.”

A
T
FOUR
o’clock, Teresa’s shift ended and Matthew came bouncing into La Tazza. Ryan was stacking glasses at the counter when Matthew walked up behind him. He kissed Ryan on the neck and said, “Thanks for last night.”

Ryan turned around and grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Matthew grabbed some glasses and helped with the stacking. “I don’t know. You could have said you had a good time, or something. Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. Are you?”

“Nope. It isn’t going to be awkward or anything, is it? Working together?”

“I hope not. Uncle Ian is your boss, not me.”

“Was it a one-off?” Matthew asked.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t you ever slept with a guy who did a complete one-eighty the next morning? Hell, I’ve done a complete one-eighty the next morning.”

Ryan grabbed Matthew by the shoulders and kissed him. “That’s not what’s going on, okay? I had a great time. But I also don’t rush into things. Is that cool?”

“Absolutely.”

Ryan couldn’t tell if his casual attitude worked on Matthew, but fortunately he didn’t have to think about it for long, because the east door opened and Quentin walked in.

Matthew looked excited. “Hey, Walsh.”

“Hey, Matthew. Ryan.” Quentin had a small yellow envelope in his hand. He placed it on the bar and pushed it toward Matthew.

“Is this…?”

“Two VIP passes for Tuesday night. They’ll get you backstage after the concert.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No. Even I’m not that big of a dick.”

“Dude, I have no idea how to thank you. This is just….” Matthew opened the envelope and took out the laminated passes. He handed one of them to Ryan.

“You’re inviting me?”

“Duh. Who else would I take? Teresa and Timothy can work that night. Or Colleen. It’s going to be a great concert.”

“Ryan,” Quentin said. “Can you take a break? There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Sure. Can you cover the counter, Matthew?”

“Go, sit down. Take as much time as you want. We have VIP passes to the Dime Box concert Tuesday night. Does this mean we don’t have to stand in line?”

Quentin nodded. “That’s what it means. There’s a VIP entrance next to the Will Call window. They also rope off a small section where we can watch the concert. Look for me when you get there, or just flash your badge around and pretend you’re a big shot. That always works.”

“Thanks again. I owe you big time.”

“Forget about it,” Quentin said. “I was happy to do it.”

“How about an espresso?” Matthew said. “On the house.”

“Sure. That sounds good.”

“Okay. You go talk to Ryan, and I’ll bring it out.”

Ryan walked into the seating area, and he and Quentin took one of the smaller tables against the wall.

“What’s up?” Ryan asked.

“I noticed you didn’t work last night.”

“No, I had a date. Well, I thought it was a date at least. Turns out it wasn’t.”

Matthew came up and set Quentin’s espresso on the table. “You want anything, Ryan?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay, cool. Let me know if there’s anything I can get you guys.”

Matthew left them alone, and Quentin took a sip of the espresso. “Best rocket fuel in town.”

“What did you want to ask me?” Ryan said.

“I don’t know quite how to start this conversation. I just hope you haven’t hurt Ian or something like that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you’re not who you say you are.”

Ryan’s throat went dry. “Excuse me?”

“Ian has a nephew named Ryan, but I looked his parents up on Facebook. Ryan is ten years old.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you told me you worked here three summers ago, and I’ve been coming to La Tazza since it opened. I’ve met every barista who ever walked through those doors.”

“Fuck,” Ryan muttered. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Who are you?”

“Even if I tried to explain it, you’d never believe me.”

“Will you answer one question, then? Do you have Ian tied up in a basement somewhere?”

“God, no. You think I kidnapped him in order to take over his life?”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“Trust me, Quentin. That’s not what’s going on here.”

“Look, Ian’s gone and you’re running the place, but I have no idea who you are. All I know is, you’re not Ryan Parker. I could have come in today with my brother and the cops, because you’re probably in major felony territory here.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Quentin said. “There’s something familiar about you, so I figured I’d at least let you explain first. But before we get to that, I want to talk to Ian.”

Ryan had no backup plan should someone blow his cover. He couldn’t excuse himself to call Mark, because that would only prompt Quentin to call the police.

“You are,” Ian said.

“I am what?”

“Talking to Ian.”

Quentin rolled his eyes in frustration. “Jesus. Come on, dude. Enough with the moronic riddles. Who in the fuck are you?”

“You’ll never believe me.”

“You might be surprised. I’ve heard some crazy shit in my short life.”

Ian turned around to make sure Matthew wasn’t listening. “The night before I went to Denver, I made a wish on a cupcake. It was my birthday. I wished I could go back and do it all over again. Then I bought this chocolate kiss made with Manick Butter, which is an anagram for ‘turn back time.’ It made my wish come true. I woke up on the plane ride back to Austin and I was two decades younger.” Ian pointed to himself. “This is me. I’m Ian.”

Quentin stared at him for a long minute, then took out his cell phone and said, “Okay, that’s it. I’m calling Ben and getting the police over here, stat.”

“Wait.” Ian reached out and grabbed Quentin’s arm.

“Don’t touch me.”

Ian quickly pulled away. “I’m sorry, but look at me. Look into my eyes. Why do you think there’s something familiar? It’s because I’ve known you for five years.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Then ask me something that only Ian would know. Some detail from all the times you’ve come into La Tazza.”

Quentin fidgeted with his spoon. “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.”

“Try. If I’m not Ian Parker, then stump me. I know how the Walsh brothers love a challenge.”

Quentin stared at him. “Okay. The week after my parents died, I came in here with my girlfriend at the time.”

“I remember her. Dakota.”

“Anyone could know that. Ian said he was sorry for my loss, but then he also put on some special music for me. What was it?”

Ian didn’t hesitate. “James Taylor.
Sweet Baby James
.”

Quentin looked stunned.

“That’s my go-to album for moments like that,” Ian said. “I remember you started crying during ‘Fire and Rain.’ I forgot that song was on there. I’m sorry.”

Quentin drank the remainder of his espresso. “It’s moments like this that make me want a cigarette, and I don’t even smoke.” He stood up and said, “I need some air.” He exited through the east door and onto the patio.

Ryan looked at Matthew and shrugged. Then he followed Quentin outside. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“You have no idea. Just give me a minute to…. How is it even possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you pretending to be Ian’s nephew?” Quentin asked.

“It’s a cover story. My friend Mark came up with it. I woke up on a plane twenty years younger. What was I supposed to do?”

“Are you dating Matthew?”

“Kind of.”

“Does he know you’re really Ian?”

“No.”

Quentin took a step back. “That is totally twisted. You’re lying to him?”

“I’m lying to everybody,” Ian said. “That’s the premise of a cover story. It’s not like I can tell the truth. Look at you—you’re reacting like you’ve seen an alien. People will think I’m crazy—or worse—they’ll cut me open to figure out how I did it.”

“But how are you going to live like this? I mean, forever?”

“I’m meeting Mark at six to call the guy who sold me the chocolate kiss. It might be possible to reverse it. If I go back to being Ian, I stand a real chance at love. But being young again? I don’t know if I can give this up for anybody.”

Quentin looked distracted and pulled out his phone. “Maybe that’s the point. Are you coming to the concert on Tuesday with Matthew?”

“I suppose. It sounds like fun.”

“Good. I gotta run now, but there’s someone I want you to talk to.”

“Who?” Ian asked.

“Never mind.” Quentin turned and started to walk away but then yelled over his shoulder, “Just make sure you’re at the concert on Tuesday.”

R
YAN
LEFT
La Tazza shortly before six to meet Mark. They went into Ian’s kitchen, and Mark sat his phone in the middle of the island. He tapped the screen and put it on speaker. It rang three times, and then Tad answered.

“Hello, you’ve reached Enchantmints, home of the Rocky Mountain high.”

“Hello, Tad. My name is Mark Sterling. I was in your shop a couple of weeks ago with my friend Ian. He’s the one who bought the chocolate kiss made with Manick Butter.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tad said. “I remember you guys. Did you enjoy the product?”

“Well,” Mark said. “That’s why we’re calling. Ian is here too. I have you on speaker.”

“Hi, Tad,” Ian said.

“Hello. What’s this about?”

“After Ian ate the chocolate kiss, he woke up on the plane twenty years younger.”

No one spoke for a moment, and then Tad said, “Okay…. Have you guys been smoking this evening?”

“No,” Ian said. “We’re serious. I ate the kiss before I got on the plane. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I went to the bathroom and saw my face. I was forty when I left Austin and twenty-one when I came back. Did you know Manick Butter is an anagram for ‘turn back time’?”

“No. I didn’t know that. But—”

“You told us Mrs. Brown’s special editions are magical,” Mark said. “Can you ask her if it can be reversed? You don’t have to admit to any liability or even believe us. We just want to know if there’s a remedy. That’s all.”

Ian and Mark waited for an answer.

“Okay,” Tad said. “I’ll ask her and get back to you. Might be a few days, though. In the meantime, maybe you two should seriously think about laying off the bong.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
HE
NEXT
day, Sunday morning, Ryan and Matthew opened La Tazza together.

“Was it busy last night?” Ryan asked as they prepped the counter.

“Insane. Every single seat was filled until we closed. The full-court press of finals has begun. Did you get some sleep?”

“About ten hours. I needed it after you kept me up all night Friday. Not like I’m complaining.”

“You better not be. We’re both off at four today. You want to do something? Maybe go see a movie?”