Page 70 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

I smile to myself and look out the window as we drive through the suburbs, and I’m struck with an ingenious idea. I’m not sure if it was my discussion with Cat that inspired it, but I feel like doing the same thing she’s doing. Just leap toward my former self without feeling guilty that my father isn’t a part of it anymore.

I turn to face Dylan again. “Hey, do you have your heart set on going to this party tonight?”

He shrugs. “Not really, no. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s go on a little adventure?”

“Okay...where do you want to go?”

“Well, first we need to stop off and buy food, and then I was thinking...we could take a drive into the city, and we need to look...” I’m making this up as I go along so I stop to give it more thought. “...for a building that only has three lights on on the third floor, and then we’re going to go up to the roof of that building and eat dinner under the stars.”

He nods. “Great plan. One problem, though. How do you propose we get past the security guards?”

“I was thinking of flashing my boobs in exchange for?”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“I’m just kidding. Making up a lie on the spot is half the fun. Are you in?”

“I’m in,” he replies without hesitation, and I like that he agreed so easily. It shows he can be spontaneous, which is a huge plus in my book.

Because I decided on a plan, I ask Dylan to pick something for dinner. We get Chinese takeout, but he only gets it because I’ve never eaten Chinese before, so technically, I chose dinner, too. We drive slowly, weaving our way through the streets of the city. Turns out, my specifications are quite difficult, but eventually, we find a building with three lights on the third floor.

We don’t even make it past reception. It’s my fault. Dylan has watched way too many movies because the lie he tries to feed the security guards is that he’s a maintenance guy there to fix a faulty air conditioner. But we’re there after hours and he has no toolbox or anything that would make that lie believable. The guards don’t buy any of it. Eventually, their confused expressions get me giggling like a madwoman and we promptly get kicked out.

We only find another building twenty-six minutes later, and this doesn’t go well either. I tell the guards that I work there, and I was in such a rush to get to a Halloween party that I forgot my laptop and my access tag in my office. The guard asks me how old I am, and I say twenty-four. He then asks me what year I was born, and I can’t do the math quick enough, so we get kicked out of there, too.

Our little adventure leads us to many unexpected treasures. We stop off and watch street performers. We take a selfie with a magician and a breakdancer. Actually, we take selfies of everything, documenting all the details of our night together. We stumble upon a twenty-four-hour bakery and get a few slices of a decadent chocolate cake for dessert. By nine, we’re still driving around, and we finally find another building with three lights on on the third floor. This one has an underground parking lot, and it’s deserted, so we find a spot right next to the elevator.

“Third time’s a charm,” Dylan says reassuringly as we cross the empty parking lot. “I have a good feeling about this one. Third building that has three lights on on the third floor...it’s like it’s meant to be.”

We take the elevator up to the ground floor and the first thing we see when we enter the lobby is a fancy gold and black sign that reads:Porterman and Hart Attorneys.We walk across the porcelain tiles to the shiny black reception desk, and we’re greeted by two guards.

“Are you two lost?” one asks.

“No,” Dylan replies. “Not at all. My dad told me that this building has an amazing view of the city at night, and he said I could bring my girlfriend here for a romantic dinner.” He lifts the paper bag containing our takeout like that will somehow convince them.

The one with the name tagJoeyraises a skeptical brow. “And who’s your dad?”

“My dad? Um...my dad is...is Mister Hart.”

Joey is even more disbelieving now. “Mister Hart is your father?”

Something about the way he asks the question makes Dylan think twice before he answers. “He’s my...I’m, uh, I’m adopted.”

“That makes more sense,” the other guy, Mo, says. “Mister Hart is...well, he’s black, so I was wondering?”

“He’s also recovering from a bad fall,” Joey cuts in. “He may have been discharged from the hospital, but surely he still needs assistance. Why are you out on a date instead of helping him at home with whatever he needs?”

Dylan’s expression drops, and he tries to fake sadness. “He wanted me to have the night off. You know how he is, always putting everyone else above himself. And after the...fall, he told me to appreciate life because you never know when things will change in an instant. One minute, you’re walking down the street without a care in the world, and the next minute?”

“You’re falling down a manhole.” Mo completes the sentence and Dylan’s eyes widen when he realizes that’s probably what happened to Mister Hart.

“Exactly,” Dylan says. “So, listen, guys. We’re just kids. We’re not here to cause trouble. We just wanna have dinner and then we’ll leave. You won’t even know we’re here.” He leans slightly over the desk to see the screen showing footage of the security cameras. “You can even watch us on this thing. We’re going straight to the roof, that’s all.”

“There are no cameras on the roof,” Joey says, still not wanting to give an inch.

“And what could we possibly do on the roof?”

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