by Alexa Land
“It only takes five minutes to shower and get ready.”
“Speak for yourself. It took me the full half-hour, and I didn’t even have time to straighten my hair.”
He grinned at me and said, “I like your curls.”
“They’re a mess, and I’m weeks past due for a haircut.”
“You’re terrible at taking compliments.”
“I know.”
He’d made arrangements to borrow one of the resort’s Jeeps, and soon we were rattling down a dirt road, headed to the center of Catalina. I’d almost forgotten just how rugged the island’s interior was, since I rarely ventured out there. I knew about the bison because they wandered onto the property occasionally, but to see a large herd of them amid the rolling hills and stark landscape was odd. It felt like stepping through a portal and suddenly finding myself in another place and time.
When we eventually reached our destination, it was different than I’d expected. It was called ‘Airport in the Sky’ because it had been built atop one of the largest mountains on the island. The main building was a long, vaguely Spanish structure with a terra cotta tile roof and a boxy tower that jutted from the center of it. It all seemed vintage, but I couldn’t begin to pinpoint the era.
Lorenzo led me into the nondescript lobby and said, “It’s going to take me a while to do my preflight checks. You’ll probably be most comfortable in here while that’s happening.” He put the picnic basket on a bench and lifted the lid, and then he took out a celebrity gossip magazine and handed it to me. “Hopefully that’ll keep you entertained.”
“You really are remarkably thoughtful.”
He said, “I try,” before going to do whatever preflight checks were.
The back wall was lined with windows, so I took a seat looking out over the tarmac and watched him. Several planes were sitting out in the open near a large hangar. His was white with blue stripes down the side, which could be said for at least half the planes out there. Not that I knew anything about aircraft, but his didn’t seem very modern. I didn’t have a clue if it was ten years old, or twenty, or fifty. It also didn’t look like much. The wings were positioned directly on top of the cockpit in a way that made it seem a bit squashed, it had a propeller at the front, and that was all I could really say about it.
Lorenzo spent all kinds of time circling the Cessna and inspecting various things that probably had some vital importance to keeping it airborne. He was so meticulous that I actually started to feel slightly better about going up in that thing. It might be so basic and no-frills that it seemed like aviation’s answer to the VW Beetle, but it was obviously a very well cared for Beetle.
Eventually, he returned to the lobby and told me we were ready to go. I loved the way excitement sparkled in his dark eyes. We crossed the tarmac side-by-side, and as he secured the picnic basket in the backseat, I took a look at the plane’s interior. It contained four slightly faded blue vinyl seats, and little else. That was mildly disappointing. Part of the reason I’d wanted to do this was to learn more about Lorenzo, but the plane was a blank slate.
He climbed into the pilot’s seat, and I took the one beside him and fastened my seatbelt. There was a steering wheel in front of each of us, shaped a bit like a squared off ‘W’. All I could think about was how utterly fucked we’d be if I had to reach for that wheel at any point.
Lorenzo put on some headphones with a microphone attached and handed me a pair, which I hung around my neck as I watched him prepare for take-off. The number of gauges, dials, and switches in that small cockpit was truly staggering. He told me to put my headphones on before the engine roared to life, and his voice came through clearly as he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Not awful.”
He turned to look at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” When I nodded, he smiled at me and went back to the controls. He said something to a disembodied voice I assumed came from the airport’s control tower, and then we started to move. I concentrated on deep breathing as I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.
Normally, I had no problem with flying, but all my experience to date had been in massive airliners. This was another thing entirely. I’d always assumed it would feel exactly like this, precarious and risky, and all we were doing so far was rolling across the tarmac.
I pivoted as much as I could with the seatbelt holding me in place and focused all my attention on Lorenzo. The plane might seem flimsy compared to a 747 but he was rock solid, calm and totally in control. He always seemed like that, but here it was heightened somehow and brought sharply into focus.
We gained speed as we barreled down the runway. It felt rough and shaky—until it didn’t.
All of a sudden, we were airborne. When I turned to look out the windshield, all I could see was blue sky. We climbed steadily for a while, and then Lorenzo brought the plane around in a wide arc. Catalina came into view as we leveled off, and I murmured, “Oh wow.” The island rose steeply out of the gray-blue ocean, culminating in a series of imposing mountain ridges. When I noticed a flat strip at the top of one of the mountains, I said, “Holy shit, is that the runway we just used?” It looked so much more precarious from up here, slicing through the landscape before dropping off sharply at either end.
“It is. Fun fact—it was built by blowing up two mountaintops, then filling in the valley between them with the rubble. A lot of pilots consider it one of their favorite airports.”
“I’m guessing pilots have different criteria than the rest of us for what constitutes a favorite airport.”
He chuckled and said, “You’re right about that. This one’s all about the thrill factor.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t know what that looked like when we were taking off, and just FYI, I may need to be heavily medicated before we come back and land on it. Aside from that though, it’s pretty amazing to see Catalina from the air. Is that what you wanted to show me?”
“That’s just an added bonus. I’m glad you seem calmer now, by the way. For a few minutes there, I thought you might hyperventilate.”
“I’m not gonna lie, it was scary at first. But this is a lot different than I thought it’d be. When the plane was on the ground, I didn’t have much confidence in it. But now, look at it go! It feels so…effortless, maybe? I don’t think that’s the right word, but hopefully you get what I’m trying to say.”
“I understand. You really only see its full potential when it’s up here, doing what it was made to do.”
“Exactly.” I leaned back and relaxed as we left the island and headed out over open water. After a while, I murmured, “I was so wrong to turn down all your offers to take me flying over the last several months.”
“You finally said yes, which is all that really matters.”
“I missed out on a lot, though.”
He glanced at me and asked, “Do you want to try flying it?”
I sat up and blurted, “What? No! I don’t have a death wish.”
“You’ll be fine. There’s nothing to crash into out here.”
“There’s the ocean, Lorie. I could nosedive into the water.”
He said, as calmly as ever, “There’s absolutely no chance you’ll do that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I trust you. Go ahead and take the wheel.”
“Why?”
“To prove to yourself that you can do this.”
I stared at him for a few moments, and then I took a deep breath and wrapped my hands around the wheel in front of me. He relaxed his hold on his wheel and rested a hand on my thigh as he said, “There. You’re flying.”
“Really?”
“Try turning it.”
I moved it an inch and said, “Nothing happened.”
He grinned at me. “Try turning it a lot more than that.”
It wasn’t anything like driving a car. When I gave the wheel what I considered a sharp turn, the plane gradually arced to the left. But that was enough for me to exclaim, �
��Oh my God, I’m really doing it!”
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.”
He started driving again, and a minute or two later, he asked, “Do you want to continue on and have our picnic? I was planning to take you to the Griffith Observatory, but if you’d rather go home I can drive us back to the airport.”
“I’d love to have that picnic with you. Just so you know, I don’t have any negative memories associated with that place, so hopefully I won’t continue to fuck up this wonderful day you planned for us.”
“I’m the one who fucked it up,” he muttered.
“No, you’re not. I shouldn’t have said anything back there.”
“I’m glad you did, though. I could tell something was bothering you, and I never want you to feel there are things we can’t talk about.” That was nice to hear, but I still wished I’d kept my thoughts to myself.
After a while, I tried to lighten the mood by challenging us to name every movie or TV show that had filmed scenes at the observatory. The most famous was Rebel Without a Cause, and one of the more recent was the TV show Lucifer. We thought we did pretty good by coming up with thirteen, but then I looked it up on my phone and told Lorenzo, “We missed a couple.”
“Yeah? So, how many shows and movies have used it as a location?”
“About a hundred and forty.”
He chuckled and said, “We were so close.”
It really was no wonder that the Griffith Observatory was such a popular filming location. The iconic art deco building was beautiful in its own right, and it was also situated at the top of a hill with panoramic views of the city. We were surprised to discover it was actually open on New Year’s Day, so we decided to go inside and check it out, just because we could.
It was quiet, peaceful, and nearly deserted, and the lights were low to put the emphasis on the illuminated exhibits. Lorenzo was fascinated by everything and paused to read all the information, which I thought was very cute. Meanwhile, I wandered around and looked at the pretty pictures of space. It wasn’t that I had no interest in the subject. I was just distracted, and when Lorenzo noticed, he took my hand and asked, “Are you bored out of your mind?”
“Not at all. I love being here with you.”
He watched me for a moment, and then he leaned in and kissed me, under a great, big glowing model of Jupiter. I sank into him—into his kiss, his arms, his warmth. It felt so good, better than anything.
After a while, he kissed my forehead and said, in a voice that sounded a bit rough, “It’s past lunchtime, and you must be hungry. Let’s go have our picnic.”
We exited through a side door and paused to take in the astonishing, panoramic view from the terrace. The Hollywood sign was off to our right, and all of Los Angeles was sprawled out before us. I turned my back to it as my heart ached.
I said softly, “I really don’t want to move back to the small town I grew up in, but I just don’t think I can stay here. Even if I was able to find a job that paid enough to support myself and send money home, Southern California is just depressing now. It feels like failure. I don’t think this is the right place for me anymore, but rural Louisiana isn’t either. I don’t know where I belong.”
“You like it on Catalina, don’t you? I thought you were happy there.”
“It’s been wonderful, but it was meant to be a short-term thing. Just like you were saying last night, I feel guilty for taking advantage of my friend’s generosity.”
“Beck would give you a job if you wanted it,” Lorenzo said. “He and Ren will need to build up their staff as we move into spring and the r
esort gets busy again. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel guilty about staying there, especially since they provide housing for a lot of their employees.”
“He’d definitely give me a job, but I’d still feel like I was using him.” I sighed and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down again. Let’s go get our picnic.”
I started walking toward the parking lot, and Lorenzo fell into step with me. “There’s no need to apologize. I know you have a lot on your mind right now.”
He was as kind and understanding as ever, but I vowed to shut up about this stuff and get a grip. This was such a good day, and it would suck if I ruined it for both of us.
When we reached the car, we retrieved the picnic basket and a blanket, which Lorenzo with his remarkable attention to detail had asked his cousin to leave in the trunk for us. Lunch was a gourmet feast with several types of cheese, French bread, olives, and fruit, along with a bottle of wine. As usual, I drank more than I ate. It wasn’t like I didn’t know alcohol had plenty of calories, but I’d always allowed myself that dieting loophole.
Toward the end of the meal, my phone buzzed. I ignored it, but when it happened twice more, Lorenzo said, “That might be important. Maybe you should answer it.”
I pulled the phone from my pocket and saw I’d missed two calls and a text from my agent. The text was all in caps and said: CALL ME ASAP. I showed Lorenzo the screen and muttered, “That’s weird. I have no idea why Sylvia would be calling me on a holiday.”
The phone rang in my hand, and when I answered it, my agent blurted, “Thank God you picked up! How fast can you get to L.A.?”
“Actually, I’m already here.”
“Perfect! Drop whatever you’re doing, because I need you to meet me downtown right away. I’ll text you the address when we hang up.”
I put the phone on speaker and asked, “What’s going on?”
“A once-in-a-lifetime part in a major production has come available, but we have to act now!” In the ten years I’d known her, Sylvia Gold had never sounded so excited.
