1
Devon
There she is, cutting hair, standing on her feet for God knows how many hours, here in the airport in a city that barely closes down. She has to be dead on her feet, yet a serene smile plays on her face as she moves this way and that way while cutting someone’s hair.
For the past six months, the first thing I do is grab my luggage from the conveyor belt here in Las Vegas, Nevada, my home sweet home. Then I look at her. Michelle is now the only one I’ll ever let touch my hair. I love that feeling of her hands delving into my hair, the way she nibbles on her bottom lip while she’s deep in concentration, her tight body flitting here and there, and the way her body presses up against mine. I never believed for a second that I could possibly feel anything like this toward someone, especially not since her. That thought gives me chills, and not in a good way either.
I shake those thoughts from my head, grab my suitcase, and flip up the handle. Wheeling it behind me, I make my way toward her salon. She makes a killing here; not only does she do everything a normal salon would do, but her shop is in the Vegas airport. It had to be the smartest thing business-wise to open up here. From looking at the clients sitting in the waiting area, I can tell business is doing good.
“Hi, Devon. Have a seat.” Her voice is soft and melodic. I’m here like clockwork, even if I’m not traveling.
“Hey, Michelle. I’ll be here.” I watch her the entire time as I slide into a chair after I’ve made my way into “Hair Break Hotel,” the play on words working perfectly for Vegas.
My thoughts go back to two years ago. I was living it up, working, drinking, hanging out with friends, and being a fucking idiot. That still pains me to say. No man ever wants to admit he’s fucked up, but it’s the truth of the matter. My younger brother was more mature than I was back then. I didn’t listen to anyone; I thought I was indestructible. That is until I had to file a paternity lawsuit against my now ex-girlfriend. I’m not even sure I would call Stacey a girlfriend. She was a mistake, a huge mistake that almost cost me my family, my career, and my sanity.
I was lucky enough that my parents and Lincoln didn’t disown me afterward. But I can’t help but think, if the baby she was carrying had been mine, I’d be the best parent I could. I’d fight for every moment to spend with our child if he or she were mine.
That wasn’t in the cards, though. When they were laid out on the table and we got the call from our family attorney, it shook me through my core. Life sucked at that moment. I almost let it knock me down. I didn’t, though. Instead, I took it as a wake-up call. Got my shit together and worked harder than ever, moving my way up the ladder so my parents could finally retire. Hell, they deserved it after all this time. They even bought a vacation house by Lincoln and Presley so they could see my nephew more often.
Lincoln didn’t want the family business. I did, but I was too lazy to work for it, thinking they’d just hand it off at one point. Boy, was I wrong, when my dad sat me down well before the paternity suit, telling me he’d be selling the company if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass.
Something inside me woke me up after that call from the attorney, and it was about damn time. So, I put my head down, focused on myself for a while. I quit drinking, quit hanging out with people that were in the party atmosphere so much, and I worked my ass off.
I wasn’t the father of Stacey’s child, and it hurt. It hit me harder than I thought it would the day we got the news. I almost fell back into that downward spiral; I could feel it—the need to lash out, go to a bar, get drunk, and drown my sorrow in a bottle of whiskey.
Instead, I called my parents. Hell, I practically ran to them. I found solace in letting everything out, and I’m man enough to know it was needed. If anything, the clenching in my heart wasn’t as constricted after I spoke to them. The problem was, I started imagining raising a child of my own—what it would be like to hold him or her in my arms, praying like hell they got some kind of good genes from me.
It devastated a piece of me. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t upset about not having to deal with Stacey for the rest of my life, but in the back of my mind, that child was mine. The knowledge that it wasn’t sucked something fierce.