Dennis Wright heaved a long sigh as he locked the front door of The Youth Center and strode toward the nearest city parking lot. The kids had been rowdy all afternoon. This morning, his law partner had threatened to leave if he didn’t spend more of his afternoons at their practice. All that, and he’d started the day meeting with the prosecutor, which could have gone better. Kemarre Morris denied having broken into the center the night before, despite being caught climbing out the classroom window. 

Dennis wiped sweat off his brow. From stress or heat? It was only April. Seemed like it got hot earlier every year. He groaned. Six weeks to get ready for summer programming, while he defended Kemarre. Since the kid was a follower, he’d need to find out who else was involved. Why hadn’t he paid attention to who Kemarre had been hanging with lately? 

He hopped into his Volvo S90 and drove down Ponce, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of Black Summer. At a light, he glanced at a strip mall. The sign on the end store read: Software Solutions. Charlotte’s business. He’d met her last night at a charity dinner. Too soon to call her? Technically, he didn’t have her number, but he did have her assistant Karen’s. It would only take one extra call or text. 

He shook his head. No, better wait a couple of days. She was probably busy with work and he had another charity dinner tonight. Scheduling two back-to-back had seemed like a good idea at the time. To get the thing he hated the most about running the youth center out of the way all at once. Without fund raisers, he’d have to dip into more than the interest on his trust fund. He’d always wanted to earn his own living, prove to his father and grandfather that he didn’t need the family money. He’d done that, using his inheritance only for charity. He lifted his chin and took a deep breath. So why did he feel like a phony most days?  

The light turned green. He stepped on the gas. 

Last night with Charlotte had been different. 

Her auburn curls bounced and her light brown eyes sparkled when she laughed. “Do you feel as punked as I do?”

He smirked. “Karen’s the best volunteer I’ve ever had, but she does like to play match maker.” He reached for her hand across the round table set up for them on the hotel terrace. “This time, I admire her choice.”

His boldness had surprised even him. The conversation had come easy after that. She was driven, craved success, and, unusual for someone in their late thirties, had never been married. They had a lot in common, despite her Computer Science background. 

He pulled into the hotel parking lot, straightened his tie, and hopped out of the vehicle. Show time. 

The president of the club sponsoring this dinner met him at the hotel door. On autopilot, he glad-handed all the club board members—blurs in suits—and delivered the same speech he’d given at last night’s event. A hostess led him to the VIP table. The woman in the seat next to his, introduced herself and smiled at him through heavily mascaraed lashes, her bright red lipstick smearing her front teeth. 

Dennis gave her a perfunctory nod, forgot her name, and glanced at the other six people at the round table. The president, seated opposite him, initiated a discussion about the need for more youth centers like Dennis’s. 

His neighbor batted her eyelashes at him. “I for one am so glad I never had children.” She pressed her thigh into his. He jerked his leg away.

The president’s wife leaned forward and peered at the woman. “Dawn, were you married long enough?”

Dawn giggled. “That’s my point. I would have had to raise them alone.”

Mrs. President smirked. “None of your four other husbands would have helped?”

Dawn huffed.

The group fell silent. Dennis glanced around. His face flushed. “Um. I wish I was a father.”

“Why aren’t you?” Dawn asked.

He shrugged. “Never met the right girl.” 

Dawn snuggled up to him, sliding her arm around his. “Too bad it’s a little late for me.”

Dennis eased his arm away and concentrated on his food while the conversation wafted around him for the rest of the dinner.

“Anyone want to go into the ballroom?” Dawn pointed her gaze at him. “The band tonight is excellent.”

Dennis pulled his chair back and yawned. “I’m beat. I need to go home.” He dropped his napkin on the table and legged it out of the room.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Dawn called after him.

As soon as he closed his car door, Dennis whipped his phone out of his jacket pocket and texted Karen for Charlotte’s number. 

Karen returned his text with a number and a smiley face. 

He added Charlotte to his contacts list and dialed. It rang several times then went to voice-mail. He almost hung up, but she might know it was him, and he didn’t want to be that guy. 

“Hi, Charlotte. Sorry to call so late.” He sighed. “Um. I enjoyed our dinner last night. Please let me know if you want to meet again sometime.” He pushed end. Should he have texted first? 

He glanced out his windshield. 

Dawn ran toward him as fast as possible in her high heels and tight skirt. “Oh, Mr. Wright.” She waved a piece of black cloth. 

He cranked the ignition, put the car in gear, and sped out of the parking lot. He shook his head and mumbled. “To you, lady, I’m Mr. Wrong.”