I repeated this for several minutes, creating a long serpentine in the sky as I turned right, then left, then right again. It was exhilarating. When the coastline came into view, he took over again and I relaxed. He spoke to another disembodied voice in the headphones, and soon we were soaring high above Los Angeles.

White letters came into view on a hillside in the distance, and I exclaimed, “I can see the Hollywood sign!”

“That’s why I brought you here. You told me once that you were absolutely thrilled the first time you saw that sign, but you also said it was kind of depressing when it stopped feeling special over the years. It made me think a literal change in perspective might help you regain some of that excitement.”

I glanced at Lorenzo’s profile and asked, “Is this part of an elaborate scheme to keep me from giving up on my acting career?”

“Maybe.”

He flew us over the massive Warner Brothers Studio lot before landing at a municipal airport in Burbank, and I said, “Now what do you have up your sleeve?”

“You’ll see.” He seemed pretty pleased with himself, which made me smile.

We cut through the airport’s main building with the picnic basket. Parked out front were a pair of vintage convertibles with their tops down, one red, the other baby blue. A guy with slicked back hair and a black leather jacket was leaning against the fender of the red car, and he smiled and straightened up when we approached. He and Lorenzo grabbed each other in a back-slapping hug as greetings were exchanged, and then Lorenzo said, “Will, I’d like you to meet my cousin Tito. He generously agreed to lend us his car for the day.”

Tito said, “Only because I owe you one, man.” After we shook hands and chatted for a few moments, he handed Lorenzo a set of keys and went to join his friend in the blue car.

We waved to them as they drove off, and while Lorenzo stashed the picnic basket in the trunk, I stared in amazement at our ride and asked, “When did you make these arrangements?”

“This morning, while I was cooking breakfast. My cousin is a vintage car collector, and this is one of his favorites. He’d want me to tell you it’s a 1970 Cadillac DeVille. He’d also expect me to recite all kinds of facts about the engine, but I’m not half the gearhead he is.”

Once we were settled into the white leather interior, I said, “You’re amazing. I hope you know that.”

He tried to brush off the compliment by saying, “I just wanted you to have a good day,” as we left the airport and rolled down the street.

There was something special about driving through Hollywood in a classic convertible. From the palm trees lining the streets, the billboards advertising the latest films, and the iconic locations, this was the Hollywood of my dreams, the one I couldn’t wait to be a part of when I was a teenager growing up in the rural south. My perspective had completely changed over the last decade, but that morning, in that car with that gorgeous man, I actually felt some of the magic again.

Lorenzo had been born and raised in Los Angeles, so he made an excellent tour guide. He drove us past old-school landmarks like the Hollywood Walk of Fame with its star-lined sidewalks, and Grauman’s Chinese Theater with its famous footprints in the cement. Then he moved on to contemporary attractions like the Dolby Theater, where the Academy Awards took place every year.

But his tour also included some unintentional landmarks. When we stopped at a light in West Hollywood, a knot formed in my stomach. After a pause, I gestured at a building on the corner and said, “The first time I ever turned a trick was with some random guy who picked me up in that bar. I was terrified, but I was also broke, so I tried to tell myself it was no big deal. It was just sex, and what difference did it make if money was involved? But it changed me, in ways I can’t even begin to explain.”

Lorenzo muttered, “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know, and it’s fine. You’re trying to do a nice thing here, and I truly appreciate it. It’s just that my personal history is woven into this city, for better or worse. I can never go back to being that naïve twenty-year-old who thought he’d arrived in the promised land.” After a moment, I said, “Actually, I wouldn’t want to go back, even if I could. I’ve collected some hard-earned life lessons along the way, and my eyes are open now. I wouldn’t want to change that.”

Lorenzo wasn’t sure what to say. After a pause, I nodded toward the traffic signal and told him, “The light turned green.”


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