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
“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
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