Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Ryan and Liam sat at opposite ends of the lumpy beige vinyl couch staring at the screens of their respective phones. Their apartment in East Orange, New Jersey wasn’t big enough for two couches, not that either of them were complaining.
They’d stolen the couch from their family’s garage last summer and their parents didn’t seem in any particular hurry to take the musty old family heirloom back. In fact their mother had taken to waving her hands in the air and threatening to disown the pair of them any time they attempted to mention said item of furniture in her presence. The couch had now become his and Liam’s problem.
The warm Tuesday night in June was the usual sort of a Tuesday night. It had been Liam’s turn to cook, so mac n cheese had been on the menu. Ryan was all for trying out new dishes, but at some point, Liam had decided that when it came to home cooking, less was best.
He cooked a mean mac n cheese, a half decent chili bowl, and on the rare occasion he could be bothered firing up the grill, served a respectable medium rare piece of steak. Vegetables were not however part of Liam Collin’s vocabulary.
Living with his brother was a struggle at times. Having worked in some of New York City’s high end hotels Ryan had been spoiled by the chefs in those kitchens. He loved cooking. When his parents had treated him to an online recipe subscription last Christmas, he’d spent hours watching the videos before attempting to recreate the dishes. Liam hadn’t appreciated his efforts.
Ryan glanced at his empty bowl which sat on the nearby coffee table silently hoping Liam would take it with him when he headed to the kitchen. As a barista he spent all day serving people, so by the time he got home, clearing away his own dinner plate was sometimes too much of a stretch. The only thing which usually got him to go and do the dishes was Liam’s insistence on being paid a tip if he had to provide full table service.
“Did you hear the rumor that they are talking about a reunion show?” said Liam, not looking up from his phone.
His brother didn’t need to mention the name of the show in question. They both knew what he was talking about. Ryan glared at Liam for a second, then went back to watching a TikTok video which showcased super expensive watches. He would do anything not to give oxygen to this topic of conversation.
Let it go Liam. Let it fucking-well go.
Ryan hadn’t heard the rumor, but then again, he’d made a point of keeping ‘the show’ off his radar for the past four years. The less he thought about that night on the beach in Florida, the better. A man could only re-live his worst moment of public humiliation and heart break so many times before it finally destroyed him.
Twenty million people had watched as he stood on the beach staring out to sea, waiting for a boat that never came. Even now there were still nights when he’d wake and lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, fighting to hold back the painful memories. Kaylee had shattered his heart that night, but even as a river of tears had run down his face, Ryan had steadfastly kept smiling.
He instinctively rubbed at his eyes.
The woman he’d fallen in love with had chosen the other guy. The tech guru who had looks, money, and a gorgeous house in LA overlooking the beach. But Ryan couldn’t find it in himself to blame Kaylee for what she’d done. If it was him who’d had to choose between the Thor joke or the sure bet, he would have done the exact same thing.
But she’d never been serious about him. The kisses Kaylee had insisted she and Ryan shared on camera had all been a part of a ruse. A carefully designed trick to hide the fact that she and Steven had been making out on the sly since the very first night of filming.
Months later during a tell all prime time tv interview the loved up couple had confessed that they’d been intimate from week four of filming. Ryan Collins, the blond barista from New Jersey had never stood a chance.
And while the on-set team of psychologists had done their best to help prepare Ryan in case he didn’t win, he’d been blind-sided by the fallout. The tsunami of cruel Ryan memes and jokes, along with the contractually bound morning show interviews over the following weeks had been nothing short of torture. It was bad enough having his heart broken live on national tv, but watching those last few minutes of footage over and over again during interviews had taken Ryan close to breaking point.
Nope. Not going to think about ‘the show’.
He glanced up from his phone once more. “I haven’t heard anything from anyone about a reunion show. And I’m not really interested.”
A reunion show would not only drag up the painful past, but it would also mean him having to admit to the world that he’d done little with his life since the end of Bachelors on the Beach . That was a hard no. He’d given the viewers at home enough of his soul already.
They don’t need to know I barely make ends meet. Thanks very much.
For a time, the show had caused a rift between him and Liam. While he’d been the laughing stock of the entire USA, his brother had managed to carve out a nice little career for himself on the back of the work he’d done with Bachelors on the Beach .
Liam was the one who got to travel the world. Who’d worked in exotic locations with beautiful models, several of whom he’d dated. He’d even been engaged at one point.
His life was in sharp contrast to Ryan’s. While Ryan had gone home to East Orange, New Jersey to lick his wounds and fade into obscurity, his brother had been the one who’d gotten on a plane and found international success.
Ryan rose from the couch, and picked up his dirty dinner bowl. If he stayed put, he would say something he’d regret. He headed into the kitchen and started on washing the dishes.
He’d been so sure Kaylee was going to take a chance on him. That he would be the one who not only walked away with the girl but also the one hundred and fifty thousand dollar cash prize, along with a contract for a minor acting role in an upcoming movie. All he had to do was stand on that beach, smile, and the world would have been handed to him on a silver platter.
Until it hadn’t.
His brother appeared at Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry man, that was thoughtless of me.” He sighed. “I just thought if they looked at you again there might be a chance to do something else. To salvage…this.”
Liam waved his hand in the air, pointing at the sad mid-eighties décor of their dilapidated apartment.
For Liam this place was just somewhere to store his stuff and sleep in between photographic assignments, whereas for Ryan it was home. He tried not to look at the forty year old cracked and stained tiles which formed the splash back above the sink. They only served to remind him that his life had become an ongoing source of disappointment.
“I get it. I’m thirty, and living in a crap apartment which freezes up in winter, and then becomes an oven in summer. But I have a plan,” replied Ryan. He wouldn’t meet Liam’s eyes, fearing that his brother would say something less than supportive. “And yes, I know twelve percent is not a plan. It’s barely a concept. I’ve seen that scene in Guardians of the Galaxy plenty of times too. I’m serious—this is a real business option. I just need to get my boss on board.”
He had what he considered to be eighty percent of a plan. The only thing missing was a solid chunk of cash. Which if he was honest was the biggest part of any plan.
Ok, it’s forty percent of a plan. But it’s still a plan.
The concept was sorted, it was the execution where things fell down. New York City might be the place where anyone could make it, but nothing from nothing was still an impossible dream.
“I’m sorry Ryan, I keep picking at that scab, when I should just leave it alone,” said Liam.
Ryan shook his head. “Not your fault, bro. It’s just been a shit of a week.”
In truth it had been the week from hell. The coffee bar where he worked was a branded concession stand situated in the lobby of a major hotel. This week he had dealt with three back to back booked out conventions. Long days of dealing with demanding guests who expected him to work miracles rather than just make them coffee, and who were obscenely cheap when it came to tips, had Ryan gritting his teeth.
The Java Junction might have an uninspiring name, but it stocked every known type of milk along with four different varieties of coffee beans. Its offerings should be enough for anyone, but this week he’d encountered at least one out of town guest every hour on the hour, who’d decided that their visit to NYC wouldn’t be complete without the joy of tearing into the hotel barista team.
The coffee was too hot. Too cold. Too weak. Too strong. Tasted like coffee. That last one had just about finished him. When did coffee not taste like coffee? Ryan had taken his apron off and gone for a walk around the block after that particularly fussy customer. It was either that or committing murder.
“I can handle a lot of things, but it kills me knowing that instead of having a real career, I am working for minimum wage plus tips. My life is not what I thought it would look like at this age.”
Ryan rinsed one of the bowls and placed it in the drying rack. “I have a seventeen year old car that only starts when I pray really hard. And my love life is so nonexistent that I’m beginning to think I might have accidently become a monk.”
The women he did try dating tended to fall into two groups. There were those who only wanted to talk about his time on a certain reality tv show rather than actually get to know him. While the rest took one look at his crappy apartment, bomb of a car, and dead-end career, before promptly ghosting him.
He caught himself before he started down that familiar road of self-pity. His meditation app had been sadly neglected of late, and it was beginning to show in the way his brain kept rolling over the same things.
Liam picked up a dishcloth and began to dry the bowl.
“I can’t give you any advice on your love life, mine’s not much better. I might not have gotten rejected on national tv but finding out that my fiancée had been sleeping with one of my best friends came as a serious kick to the head.”
Ryan winced at the memory of the night his brother had discovered the shocking betrayal.
Liam was an all-in type of guy when it came to romance, and the end of his engagement, as well as a long standing friendship had been a painful chapter in all their lives.
But Liam was moving on with his life. He was building a real career, and Ryan dreaded the day his brother came home and told him he was moving out. When that day came, Ryan’s only real option would be to move back home with his parents.
He pushed the thought of being in his thirties and living in the guestroom above the family garage as far away as he could.
I have to get this proposal at work off the ground. I can’t stay in a dead-end job any longer.
Pulling the plug out of the sink he stood for a moment watching as the water swirled around and around, then down the drain. Reaching for the Scrub Mummy he methodically cleaned the basin. When he was finished Ryan held the smiling pink face up in front of him and gave a wry grin. “At least someone in this house is happy.”
“Inanimate objects don’t count,” replied Liam.
No they didn’t, nor could they make life altering plans. Grinding beans for minimum wages was slowly but surely killing him. It was a good job, but one without a viable future.
“I have to find a way to make some real money. After that I can either go back and finish college or do something else. I’m not sure what. But I have a good logical brain. I pick things up easily, and that has to count for something.”
Liam gave him a look which said he’d already heard this particular speech one too many times.
Ryan finished cleaning the sink, then rinsed out the sponge. After tucking it into the dish rack, he stepped back.
He wasn’t completely useless. He had two years of an unfinished business degree under his belt. And in the years before being cast on Bachelors on the Beach he’d worked in a number of high end hotels in central New York City. Being a barista had once been his side hustle, somehow it had become his main gig.
I just need someone who is willing to take a chance on me.
“I’m going to talk to my boss tomorrow. He’s made enough promises in the past about giving me a shot, and it’s about time he made good on them.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
If Simon said no to his business proposal, he didn’t know what he would do. Pinning his hopes on someone else coming through for him and then having them torn down brought back too many memories of that night on the beach.
Of standing watching as someone else sailed away with the love and the life he’d been so certain was his for the taking.
“He’ll say yes.”
God please let Simon say yes. I can’t live another day in this dump of an apartment knowing I don’t have an escape plan.