Yes (21 page)

Dallas, 1992

Ryan stared at the young woman. He guessed she was a debutante and this was her coming-out portrait. Her eyes were bright and awake, her smile sly and playful, if not exactly innocent. Ryan wondered if she had been sleeping with the artist when he drew her. She represented all the aspects Ryan associated with youth—hope, beauty, and endless possibility. And then the inscription—
Dallas
—the towering, larger-than-life symbol of Texas. J. R. Ewing and Southfork ranch. Oil, power, and wealth. Ryan didn’t remember 1992, but Ian certainly did, and this drawing captured the moment perfectly. It marked the beginning of a decade filled with prosperity and optimism—before 9/11, global warming, texting, and the collapse of the American economy.

“This is my favorite piece in the whole house,” Ryan said to Bartley, who stood beside him and appeared to be equally enthralled.

“I can see why. Would you like to check out the upstairs?”

“Sure.”

Bartley led him to the back of the house, where a stairway took them to the second floor. At the top, they stepped through a doorway and into the master bedroom. It must have been the original attic, because it had a high, vaulted ceiling and a giant four-poster bed against the far wall. A fireplace stood opposite the bed, with two chairs facing it. An elegant blonde woman in her forties sat in one of the chairs with a slightly younger man beside her. Luke stood talking in front of them.

“Bartley. You made it up here.”

“Wow,” Ryan said. “This is something.” Luke introduced them to the two sitting guests, but Ryan couldn’t forget the drawing downstairs. “You have an amazing house,” he said to Luke, “but if I could take home one piece, it would be the portrait of the debutante in the front room. The one with the inscription that reads
Dallas, 1992
.”

The woman sat up in her chair and smiled. Luke gestured and said, “That’s her, sitting right there.”

“No way.” Ryan felt goose bumps run up and down his arms. “You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he said to her. “And the portrait is almost… magical. It should be hanging in a museum somewhere.”

“Why, thank you,” the woman said. “You are too kind.”

And she was, in fact, correct. Ryan had been too kind, because he never would have recognized her from the picture. Her face was lined now, and her hair had grown thin. Her eyes were muted by the intervening years, and all the aspects of youth that had drawn Ryan to the portrait were gone. She was not the symbol of an era, frozen in time, but a real person who aged and sagged like everybody else.

The experience unnerved Ryan. He listened to Bartley talk about the house he had designed, but then two more guests came into the room, and Luke’s focus shifted to them. Bartley and Ryan excused themselves and returned to the first floor. They chatted with a few more people and eventually made their exit.

When Bartley pulled into Ian’s driveway, Ryan thanked him again, said good night, and went inside. He walked into the bedroom and lay down. As he stared at the ceiling, his thoughts were still consumed with the portrait of the debutante and the woman in front of the fireplace. He closed his eyes and heard a buzzing sound.

Ryan lifted his head and looked beside him. Ian’s phone sat on the nightstand, still plugged into the charger. He picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and smiled. Then he tapped the answer button and lowered his voice.

“Hey, Bartley. How was your day?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

O
N
T
UESDAY
morning, Ryan was serving lattes at La Tazza when Matthew texted him about the concert. Instead of texting him back, Ryan waited for a break between customers and then dialed his number.

“A voice call?” Matthew said. “Did we flash back to 2007?”

“I’m old-fashioned. I prefer calling over texting and face time over Facebook.”

“I was teasing you. I’ll take some face time, please.”

“How did your final go last night?”

“Not bad. I think I got a B, maybe a B plus.”

“Congratulations,” Ryan said. “What time is the concert tonight?”

“The VIP passes say nine, but no self-respecting rock band would go on before ten o’clock.”

“How about I pick you up at nine, then? That will get us there around nine thirty. We don’t want to be too late.”

“Sounds good.”

“Have you finished your paper yet?” Ryan asked.

“Almost. It’ll be done before you get here, so I’ll be able to forget about school for one night and enjoy myself. I’m really looking forward to this. I hope we get to meet Topher Manning afterward.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Quentin must know somebody, the way he pulled those tickets out of his ass at the last minute.”

Matthew chuckled. “Are you working today?”

“Just until four. I pulled a double yesterday. Teresa and Timothy keep asking for time off to study, but Colleen is covering for me tonight. The place has been packed all day. We should consider staying open 24/7 during finals.”

“Maybe, but then you wouldn’t have a life.”

“I think Jeopardy Pursuit Night will be a good stress reliever for everyone.”

“How many teams have signed up?”

“Five,” Ryan said. “So we have room for one more, but I doubt we’ll get anyone else at this point. Hey, I gotta run. Someone just walked in.”

“Thanks for calling, Parker. I’ll see you tonight.”

W
HEN
THEY
arrived at Stubb’s, the long line wrapped around the block, but their passes allowed them to skip the wait. A young man wearing a Stubb’s T-shirt led them into a large outdoor space with no seating. The usher directed them to the roped-off VIP area to the right of the stage. It held about twenty people, Quentin among them. He came over and greeted them.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Q,” Matthew said as he stared past him. “Are those your brothers?”

Quentin turned around and checked. “How could you tell? Pretty formidable bunch, aren’t we?”

“Dude, I heard you guys look alike, but that’s outrageous. Still, my team is gonna kick your ass on Thursday.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Quentin said. “You ever been here, Ryan?”

“No, first time.” He sniffed the air. “I could get high off the second-hand pot smoke. And we’re outside.”

Quentin laughed. “I know. It’s nice to see Austin living up to its reputation.”

“I’m not complaining. I would have brought a joint, had I known.”

“Just stand next to Stanton and Marvin. They’ll pull one out eventually. Don’t let Jason and Cade see, though. We have to hide the weed from them.”

“Do you smoke?” Ryan asked.

Quentin shook his head. “No. Never.”

Matthew looked around the VIP area. “Which one is Stanton Porter?”

“The tall guy in the corner, next to the short Jewish dude. That’s Marvin.”

“Who are they?” Ryan asked.

Quentin started to answer, but Matthew cut him off. “Stanton is Topher Manning’s husband. He’s a music critic for NPR. And Marvin is Marvin Goldstein, the classical music critic for the
New York Times
and also Topher’s writing partner. He can make or break the career of a classical musician with one stroke of his keyboard. I didn’t know they would be here, though. Now I’m nervous as shit. Do you know them?”

“Of course,” Quentin said. “How do you think I got those tickets? Why, you want me to introduce you?”

“Would you? You’ve already done so much.”

“No problem. Let’s go.”

Ryan took his hand and squeezed it. “Just be your usual charming self, and you’ll do fine.”

“Okay.” He kissed Ryan. “You gonna stay here?”

“I think so. But if they spark one up, come and get me.”

“Will do.”

Quentin and Matthew walked away, and Ian noticed Jason Walsh and his boyfriend, Jake, were staring at Ryan. He quickly reminded himself that they’d never met, even though Ian knew everything about them. They walked over and said hello.

“I’m Jason.”

“I’m Jake.”

“Hi. I’m Ryan.”

“You’re Ian’s nephew, right?” Jake said.

“That’s right.”

Jason nodded. “My brother told us he’s in Phoenix taking care of his mom. How’s she doing?”

“Better.”

“So who’s running Jeopardy Pursuit Night on Thursday?” Jake asked.

“Me. I heard you guys are three-time returning champions.”

“That’s right,” Jason said. “The key is intellectual diversity. And Ben is our secret weapon. His mind is like a trap for useless information.”

“Are you two in high school?”

Jason’s smile disappeared. “I am.”

“What’s wrong? Is that a sore subject?”

“Kind of,” Jake said. “I graduate in a couple of weeks, and then I’m going to NYU film school in the fall.” He took Jason’s hand and kissed him. “Don’t worry. It’s only for a year.”

“Film school?” Ryan said. “I think that takes more than a year.”

“No,” Jake said. “Jason graduates next year, and he’s going to Columbia.”

“If I get in.”

“Oh, please. There’s no way you won’t get in. After that, we’ll be together again.”

“NYU,” Ryan said. “That’s a big change from Austin. Do you know anyone there?”

Jake looked surprised. “The whole band lives there half the year.”

“Plus Colin and David,” Jason added. “And Colin’s mom and dad.”

“I’m an only child,” Jake said. “I don’t have a lot of relatives, but dating Jason has given me an entire extended family.”

“So you guys know the band too?”

Jason nodded. “We’ve worked on all their music videos. See the redhead over there? That’s Travis, my brother Ben’s boyfriend. Travis and Topher are kind of like best friends. They used to work together, back when Topher was a mechanic.”

Ryan saw Matthew waving his hand, motioning Ryan to join him. “Will you two excuse me? My date is summoning me.”

Jason and Jake turned around. “Where did he come from?” Jake asked.

“He’s the newest barista at La Tazza,” Ryan said.

“Nice work,” Jason said. “He’s a total hottie.”

Jake nodded enthusiastically and added, “He’s like a hunky version of Ben Whishaw.”

“Why does everyone compare him to an English dude?” Jason and Jake looked confused. “Never mind. I’m going to… it was great meeting you.” Ryan walked to the other side of the VIP area. Matthew had a joint in his hand and offered it to him. Ryan took it and said, “I see you found the party.”

“Just be discreet.”

Matthew introduced him to Stanton and Marvin, who both looked a little stoned. Matthew put his arm around Ryan and said, “I was just telling them we were listening to the new Dime Box album at La Tazza the other day.”

Ryan glanced around and took a hit. “That’s right. It’s really good.”

“Shotgun,” Matthew said.

Ryan kissed him and blew out the smoke as Matthew inhaled. “I still can’t get over Topher’s voice,” Ryan said. “Where did that come from?”

Stanton laughed. “It’s a very long story.”

Ryan considered Stanton’s age, and it made him realize that maybe Ian had overreacted a little about turning forty. Stanton was at least ten years older than that and married to a young rock star. Ben Walsh entered their circle and whispered something into Stanton’s ear. Stanton pointed to Ryan.

“You have the joint?” Ben asked. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“I’m Ryan Parker.”

“Oh, right. Ian’s nephew. Quentin told me about you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a dick. Things like that just fall out of my mouth.”

Ryan handed him the joint.

“Is Jason or Cade watching?”

Stanton put his arm around Ben to hide what they were doing. “You’re good now. But it’s funny that you think your brothers don’t know you smoke pot.”

“Shut up, Porter. I have to at least keep up the appearances of being a good guardian.”

“Please,” Stanton said. “They couldn’t ask for a better brother than you.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet. I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

Ben and Stanton hugged each other, and Ryan whispered to Marvin, “I thought they each had partners.”

“They do, but they’re friends from a previous life. It’s a special bond.” Matthew laughed, and Marvin said, “You think I’m joking?”

The lights went dark, and a hush fell over the yard. Ryan and Matthew turned toward the stage and waited. Ryan could see four people walk out, and then a spotlight illuminated a young man with a guitar, standing in front of a microphone.

“That’s Topher,” Matthew whispered.

He stepped up to the mic and said, “This is a song I wrote for my husband, Stanton. It’s called ‘Play the Long Game.’” He strummed an intro and began to sing. His voice defied description—a soaring tenor to which no recording could do justice. The audience held up their phones, taking pictures and recording videos. The new Dime Box album had only been out for a few weeks, but everyone in the crowd knew the words. They sang along with Topher as he told the story of two lovers, separated by time and space but ultimately rewarded for their perseverance with a lifetime of happiness. The standard rock concert usually opened with an up-tempo number, but Dime Box subverted that expectation and began with a ballad instead. Everyone, men and women alike, listened to the melody with tears in their eyes. Topher had them in the palm of his hand from the very first note. Ryan looked over at Stanton, who laughed and cried at the same time. Marvin put his arm around Stanton and hugged him.

When Topher finished, the crowd cheered, and the stage lit up. Ryan could see the other three members of the band, and he didn’t need Matthew to tell him which ones were the Ackerman twins and which was Peter Moses. A group of girls standing next to the VIP area counted to three and then screamed in unison, “We love you, Topher.”

“I love you too. It’s great to be back in Austin. We’ve been in New York for a while, recording our second album, but this next song was our very first single back in 2012. It’s called ‘Beaches on the Moon.’”

They launched into one of the band’s most popular songs. The girls next to them cheered and twirled around. A bolt of energy surged through the room, and Ryan started to dance. It was the kind of joyful moment Ian hadn’t experienced in years.