Chapter 4 Kit #2
“Yes and no. I let my crew have the day off for the holiday, and the kitchen is closed so I can get dinner ready. But my regulars still need someplace to go, so I put out a self-serve coffee station, along with a nice selection of donuts and pastries from that great bakery down the street.”
“That’s really nice of you, Dad.” I knew he could barely afford any of this, but it was exactly like him to give everything he had to make others happy.
He tried to shrug it off. “It’s no big deal.” After he paused for a sip of coffee, he asked, “So, what are you up to today? I hope you’re getting a good meal for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, I am. My housemates and I are expecting about thirty people, and we’ve been cooking for days. My contribution is two huge pans of your world-famous mac and cheese. I made it yesterday, so all I need to do is stick it in the oven this afternoon.”
When I tilted the phone slightly, my dad caught a glimpse of Devon and grinned as he asked, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
I hadn’t planned on it. My dad was way too emotionally invested in me finding a man, and I didn’t want to get his hopes up over someone I’d just met. But since he’d been spotted, I turned the phone toward Devon and said, “Armando Cortez, please meet my new friend, Devon Hughes.”
They exchanged greetings and chatted happily for a couple of minutes, until the bell at the main entrance dinged again and my dad greeted another customer. I said, “We should let you go, Dad. Have fun today, and please don’t work too hard.”
After we said goodbye and ended the call, Devon said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to take over the conversation.”
“It’s fine. We talk all the time.”
“Yeah? That’s awesome.”
“He’s my best friend. I tell him almost everything.”
“Almost?”
“I leave out most of the bad stuff,” I admitted.
“He already has a lot on his shoulders, and I don’t want to give him more to worry about.
That’s why I never told him I was homeless and living in my art studio during part of my senior year.
He would have insisted on giving me money for an apartment, but he’s under enough financial pressure as it is. ”
“I’m the same way with my mom, I try not to give her reasons to worry.
Maybe that’s just what happens when you’re the only child of a single parent.
As a kid, I always tried to take care of her, the same way she took take care of me.
But then, when she married my stepdad, things got a lot easier for both of us. ”
I asked, “When did she remarry?”
“When I was twelve. It changed our entire world. She’d been widowed for eight years at that point, and we were used to barely scraping by. Then this kind, loving man swept her off her feet. We went from a crappy apartment in a rough neighborhood to a huge house in the nicest part of town.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It seemed too good to be true at first,” Devon admitted. “I couldn’t believe this man was as kind and generous as he seemed. But over time, I realized he really was all that and more. He treats my mom like a queen, and from day one he’s treated me like I’m his own flesh and blood.”
“I wish my dad would put himself out there and try to meet someone. He claims he’s too old to date, but he’s only forty-five. He could find someone if he wanted to.”
Devon nodded. “He could for sure. He’s very handsome. In fact, you two look a lot alike. The weird thing is that he looks like he’s about thirty, but you’re twenty-eight. The math isn’t mathing.”
I grinned and said, “People always used to ask if we were brothers. We look less alike in person though, because he’s five inches taller than me. I guess I got the short genes from my mother.”
“I know you said she wasn’t ready to be a mom when you were born, but did she come around later on?”
“No, not at all. After graduation, she went away to college and never looked back. Last my dad heard through some friends from high school, she became a lawyer and ended up moving out of state.”
A frown creased Devon’s brow. “She’s totally missing out by not being a part of your life. I hope she knows that.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have a great dad, and I was lucky enough to have a wonderful Abuela for the first seven years of my life.
She was such an amazing woman. She immigrated to the US as a twenty-three-year-old newlywed, and even though her husband died while she was pregnant, she stayed here by herself to give my dad the best life she possibly could. ”
“That must have been tough.”
“You’re right, but she was so strong. She was full of love, too. She always acted like I was a blessing, not a mistake, even though I cost my dad his chance at a college education.”
Devon squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you lost her at a young age.”
“Me, too.”
“Where was your grandmother from?”
“Oaxaca.”
“Have you ever visited it?”
“No. My dad always wanted to take me to meet our relatives and see where his mom grew up, but it never worked out.”
“I hope you make it to Oaxaca someday. It’s a beautiful part of Mexico.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Yeah. I traveled throughout Mexico and Central America when I was twenty.” He looked embarrassed as he added, “And yes, I know I’m totally over-privileged.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s true, though. I’ve been given a lot of opportunities, thanks to my stepdad. He even set up a trust fund for me. I’ve never used it for myself, but I’ve had the security of knowing there’s that safety net.”
That was hard to comprehend. “Really? You have a bunch of money available, but you’ve never used it?”
“It made me feel ridiculously spoiled. Instead, I used the money from the sale of my condo and my savings to travel these past three years. But again, the only reason I was able to buy that condo in the first place or had any savings was because of my stepdad, who hired me at his company and paid me a generous salary.”
“Hey, don’t feel bad. If my dad ever meets a wealthy sugar mama, I can guarantee I’ll let her spoil me rotten.”
He grinned at that and muttered, “Thanks for being so nice about this.”
“Well, yeah, because you’re obviously not some bratty rich kid. You grew up poor like I did, so I know you don’t take having money for granted. And I’m glad you and your mom don’t have to struggle anymore.”
I could tell he still felt self-conscious. To change the subject, I asked him to tell me about Oaxaca. He described it in vivid detail while we finished our coffee and the giant muffin.
Then he asked, “What would you be doing today if I wasn’t hanging around?”
“I assumed I’d be helping my housemates with dinner. Since they’ve got it under control, I’d probably go do some work in my studio.”
“Okay, let’s go do that.”
“It’s not that interesting to watch someone sew.”
“I can amuse myself while you work on your stuff.”
We went back inside and confirmed that my housemates still didn’t need any help before heading upstairs. When we reached the studio, I indicated the stuffed squirrel and asked, “When should we put Operation Hostage Situation into effect?”
“I think I’d rather keep the squirrel and forget about my security deposit.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I really don’t want any more contact with the creep.”
I patted the stuffed squirrel on its startled little head and told it, “Looks like you’re part of the family now, buddy.”
Devon made himself comfortable while I selected a pink satin bustier and sat down to do some beadwork. After a minute, he asked, “Will it bother you if I play some music? I’ll keep the volume down.”
I told him that was fine and assumed he’d pull up some music on his phone. Instead, he picked up his electric guitar and carried it over to the twin bed in the corner. After moving some boxes aside, he sat down on the mattress and took a few minutes to tune the instrument.
When he began picking out a song in fits and starts, I teased, “And here I thought you knew how to play that thing.”
He pushed his overgrown hair out of his eyes and looked up from what he was doing with a smirk. “I can play the hell out of this. I was trying to compose a song, which is why it sounded choppy.”
“Okay, then let’s hear what you can do.”
“It sounds a lot better with the amp, but that also makes it louder.”
“Go ahead and plug it in. Give me the full Devon-in-concert experience.”
“If I do that, it’s definitely going to be distracting.”
“That’s fine. I’m working on a personal project, so there’s no deadline or anything.”
He said, “Alright,” and got up to retrieve the amp.
After setting up his equipment, he sat back down on the edge of the bed and told me, “So, this is my take on Nirvana’s version of a David Bowie song.”
He then proceeded to completely blow me away by singing “The Man Who Sold The World.” He had an outstanding voice with a sexy rasp, and he played the guitar like a seasoned pro.
When he finished, I blurted, “My god, Devon, that was incredible!”
“Yeah? You thought it was okay?”
“No. I thought it was astonishing! You’re unbelievably talented.” He seemed surprisingly shy as he muttered a thank you, and I asked, “How long have you been performing?”
“I don’t perform. I sing in the shower, and I started learning to play the guitar three years ago. It was one of the top items on my bucket list.”
“Well, I’m here to tell you you’re great at it.”
“I practice a lot. I’m the type of person who always needs to be doing something with my hands. The guitar is perfect for that.”
“You really should perform for an audience.”
He smiled at me. “I just did.”
“Of more than one! You belong on a stage.”
“That’s actually another item on my bucket list, but I’ve been putting it off.”
“Why? Don’t tell me someone as outgoing as you has stage fright.”
“It’s not that.” He paused for a few moments, as if he was trying to find the words. While he did that, his fingers moved soundlessly above the strings, picking out a tune only he could hear.