CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kylie
First thing after we arrived in Jersey, Richard sent Devin and me to the hair stylist, Becki, with an I. I sat in a streamlined black chair, while I watched with unjustified jealousy as a strange woman ran her manicured fingers through my boyfriend’s hair, with a sensuality that almost turned me on.
We shared a similar aesthetic; tattooed, unnaturally dyed hair. Slim with a rocker style. The envious little voice in my head kept whispering that he thought I was beautiful, therefore he could think she was beautiful too.
But after minutes of her pushing his brown waves around, studying the texture and weight, while taking in his facial features, she looked at me and smiled with her hot pink lips.
“So, wifey, what do you think we should do with him?” Her bangles clinked together as she turned toward me.
It was in that moment that I decided I liked her. She wanted my opinion, my input. I couldn’t remember the last time someone cared.
“Um, well,” I said, suddenly on the spot and realizing I knew little about men’s hair styles, “I kind of like it the way it is.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I dig it too. Very Jamie Dornan circa Once Upon a Time. Too bad they want it off. Those record labels are brutal, man.”
“Who?” Devin asked, glancing at us before turning back to the mirror. His nerves were carving a map on his face and I realized he was more afraid of this than I was.
“Fifty Shades, babe,” I said, and he responded with a disgusted groan.
Becki crossed her arms, eyeing him like an artist about to work her magic on a blank canvas. “What if we just buzz the sides and back down? Maybe trim the top a little bit, but we’ll keep some of the length. What do you think, sir?”
“Whatever. It’s just hair,” he said, and he turned to me. “What do you think, baby?”
I wrinkled my nose, trying to imagine Devin with anything but the hairstyle I’d known for thirteen years. “I’m having a tough time picturing it.”
“Think David Beckham, a little wavier on top. Devin has a little more texture to his hair than Beckham does, but it would be hot and fresh.” She glanced down at me to where I sat and asked, “What do you say?”
God, I loved so much that her main priority wasn’t what the public would love, and so I nodded with a slight shrug. “It’s just hair, right? It’ll grow back if they don’t like it.”
“They?” Becki eyed me with a cocked brow. “He’s gotta live with it, and you’re the one going home with him, girly. I want to know what you guys think.”
God, I liked her. So much.
“Go for it. It could look good,” I said, as Dev chimed in with, “Chop it off.”
She set out first with a wash, then thought it might be nice to add some strategically placed highlights. Devin laughed, teasing me that his hair would be prettier than mine, and that was the precise moment Becki looked at me and asked if I wanted her to do something with mine.
“It’s on the studio’s dime,” she said in a sing-song-y voice, grinning as she foiled Devin’s hair
“I like mine!” I shouted with a laugh, gripping at the long ends of my hair protectively.
She laughed. “Girly, trust me, I love the purple. But I could make it multidimensional with lavender and lilac highlights. I have a crazy vibrant shade of purple dye. It’s really more vio—”
“Her hair is already multidimensional,” Devin argued. “You don’t see the shades of amethyst and magenta? And sometimes, when the light hits it at the right angle, there’s just a bit of lavender in there already.”
Becki took a moment to spread her fingers over her chest, her eyes taking on a doe-like appearance. “Wow, he’s sweet,” she observed, and I nodded, grinning like an idiot in front of this cool stranger.
“He is,” I agreed.
“You’re a lucky gal,” she said, smiling without the slightest hint of jealousy showing on her face, and I replied, “I know it.”
“So, you have objections to me doing something to your lady’s hair, then?” she asked Devin, coming to stand behind me, gripping my shoulders in her hands.
He shook his head, finding my eyes and smiling. “No objections. I was just correcting you.”
With a wicked excitement, she came at my head with fingers itching to work their magic. She led me to a sink and instructed me to sit and lean back in the chair.
“Do you dye it yourself?” Becki asked, spraying my hair with deliciously warm water and I closed my eyes with a relaxed sigh.
“Usually,” I said. “Dev actually helps sometimes—”
“Oh God, that’s adorable.”
I smiled. “Yeah, he used to love going to the job sites with purple under his nails,” and I laughed lightly at the memories of our former life. It was melancholy. “Anyway, sometimes I get it done professionally, for special occasions.”
“Mm,” she hummed, kneading her fingers against my scalp. “Can I suggest a deep conditioner perfect for color-treated hair? Yours is pretty healthy, considering all of the torture it’s been through, but I have this one that’ll make it soft as hell.”
I imagined Devin’s fingers in my hair and complimenting me on its texture. I pictured him pulling it back, dipping his mouth and biting my neck. I fantasized about his hands tangled in its length as he made love to me, whispering his declarations of love into my ear.
And I grinned. “Absolutely.”
♪
While my hair set and I scrolled through the fan-assigned hashtag, #daisiesanddevin, Becki finished with Dev, hidden from my view—washing again, cutting, drying and showing him how to style it.
“I’m never going to do this you know,” I heard him protest, and I bit my lip, holding back the laugh. “I don’t even own a freakin’ brush.”
“Well, that’s fine for most days, but when you’re playing a show and there isn’t someone there to make you beautiful, now you’ll know,” she said cheerfully, and he grunted. I could just picture him crossing his arms over his chest and I smiled, looking down at the pictures of him spread across Instagram.
“Okay, ready?” Becki asked, coming to spin my chair around. I thought she was enjoying this whole unveiling thing a little too much.
“As ready as I’m gonna be,” I laughed, suddenly nervous as she spun my chair to face him.
Somehow, the haircut Becki described emphasized the cut of his jawline. Somehow, it made him appear even taller.
Somehow, I was reminding my lungs that the air had to move in and out, to keep me alive, but nothing could convince my mouth to close. To stop gaping. To stop staring, as though he were a hot stranger with the powers of Medusa.
“What do you think?” he asked, quirking his mouth into a half-smile as he turned slowly. Showing off.
“Uh, I don’t know,” I fibbed nonchalantly with a gentle shrug, and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“You’re forgetting I know you, KJ,” he said, winking. He turned back to the mirror, touching his hair and nodding. “Yeah, I’d fuck me.”
Becki snorted, and I said, “Okay, Buffalo Bill.”
“Seriously, though; I look hot,” he said, nodding his approval again. He snapped a picture with his phone. “I’m sending this to Richard. Hopefully he approves.”
I wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter what Richard thought. I wanted to say that all that mattered was what he thought of it, and then me. But I kept my lips sealed with the determination to be supportive.
When his phone chimed with Richard’s reply, I asked what he’d said, and Dev replied, “He says, ‘That’s more like it. The fans are going to love it.’”
My stomach churned at the thought that, while Becki cared what Devin and I thought, the others didn’t. I was nobody compared to the fans, because the fans were spending money; I wasn’t. And Devin? Well, he was the cash cow.
Becki finished her work on my coloring, and then, she set out to cut long layers into the lengths. She fashioned some side
-swept bangs and then she buzzed a small section for a side-cut. She blew it out, she curled the ends and when she was finished, I could’ve cried.
I loved it.
And I finally saw all of those multidimensional hues Devin had talked about for all those years.
With his hands planted to the arms of my chair, he bent over me and whispered, “You were an array of gemstones that have blossomed into a sunlit field of orchids and irises,” and I was about to roll my eyes at the cheesy line, when he leaned further to touch his lips to mine. “And what I mean by that is,” he whispered in a graveled voice, “you look fucking hot and I cannot wait to get you back to the hotel.”
I laughed, relishing in the rapid pitter-patter of my heartbeat, at the sight of my gorgeous boyfriend, and his lyrical way of speaking. So familiar, with the strange excitement from the new haircut. I let him kiss me again before I whispered, “You better get me back there quick before I shove you into the bathroom.”
Devin grinned devilishly. “Challenge accepted.”
We made it out of the salon, and we made it to our hotel, but somehow, the elevator ride back to our floor was a long one.
And we didn’t make it to the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kylie
A week on the road. Crammed into that van with the guys and various conquests sought out by Robbie, had taken us to the middle of the East Coast. I’d seen things I never thought I’d see—Philadelphia’s Magic Gardens, the Jersey Shore, the nation’s capital—and finally, on that particularly amazing day, Devin suggested we all have some fun and go to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg.
It almost felt scandalous in a way, to do something entertaining as a group, instead of the schedule of work, work, work that had been laid out for them most of the time. We wore color-coordinated baseball hats to protect ourselves from the sun. To keep ourselves in disguise from the groupies that seemed to be multiplying by the day.
It seemed almost impossible that Devin’s fame could be spreading so rampantly. He joked about it, but I don’t think he really understood the severity of his hold on the airwaves. He didn’t pay attention to trending music or social media.
But I was keeping track, as though I had given myself the task. Always checking Twitter, always checking Facebook. Hell, even as the guys terrorized themselves with some ridiculous rollercoaster called Apollo’s Chariot, I was scrolling through Instagram and browsing that tag, #daisiesanddevin. I smiled at the pictures of radio station playlists, scowled at the posts declaring him as “their man,” and radiated with an exhilarating amount of pride at the snippets of live videos.
“You might have to be hired on as his PR manager,” Richard joked.
He was the first in line off the coaster, and I looked behind him at Devin, standing out from the group. Tall, handsome and rocking a pair of sunglasses, he looked like the star. I smiled at the sight of him, until I noticed Robbie at his side, laughing and shoving against Dev’s shoulder, as if they had been close friends since high school. Except I knew better.
The friendship between them was thriving. Devin tried to keep it from me, putting a distance between himself and Robbie when I was around, but it was in those moments when I saw it. I didn’t like it. Not at all. But what could I say without sounding like the nagging wife? What could I do without seeming like a controlling tyrant?
“You’re going on the next one, Ky,” Sebastian said, nodding down at me.
“Hell no. I don’t do rollercoasters, but if you want to find a nice carousel somewhere, I’m down,” I laughed, stuffing my phone into my backpack as Devin dropped down next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
“She went on the Tower of Terror at Disney World once when she was a kid,” he explained, squinting up at Sebastian, “and let’s just say she’s sworn off thrill rides ever since.”
“Don’t act like you know what happened there,” I laughed, pushing against his side.
“I know enough to know you cry every time you retell the story,” he said, and he planted a wet kiss against my cheek. “Rumor has it, she actually crapped her pants, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
Robbie cackled. “Anybody else get the feeling that the only thrill O’Leary gets from Firecracker, is the kind in bed?” I tensed, wrinkling my nose and twisting my lips. He cocked a brow underneath the bill of his hat. “Unless I’m wrong about that too? You got yourself a boring bitch, O’Leary?”
Devin only shook his head while Richard sighed, exhausted from listening to the never-ending bout of one-sided banter from the washed-up asshole. “Okay, Robbie. I think Kylie’s had enough of your jokes.”
Forever the peacekeeper, Ty pulled a map from his back pocket and sat beside me. “Come on, we can find something more tame for the old lady,” he teased, nudging me with his elbow and I found my smile. “There’s a train ride somewhere around here, and there’s a carousel not too far. Or, uh … hey, do you do log flumes?”
I shrugged. “Those are just little water rides, right?”
Sebastian looked shocked. “How many amusement parks have you been to, Ky?”
“Disney World once when I was a kid and we went to Six Flags a few years ago,” I said, suddenly shy and awkward.
“That’s it?”
I shrugged again, embarrassed. “We were never really able to.”
I decided not to divulge that there weren’t any funds for vacations and fun things when I was a child. That one time we were able to go to Disney World, was during one of those brief and beautiful stints of sobriety, and my late grandparents had paid our way to Orlando.
“God, that’s the saddest shit I’ve ever heard,” Ty said, shooting me a look of pity. I couldn’t stand pity. “What kind of childhood is that?”
“A boring one,” Robbie chided. “But hey, that explains a lot, doesn’t it? Gotta loosen this one up, O’Leary.”
Devin tightened his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Robbie. Knock it off,” he said in a tone that made it almost sound like begging and, as his designated handler, Devin had that control over Robbie. He did knock it off, he backed down, and he turned to survey the park around us. Maybe people-watching, maybe deciding where he could sneak away to take another hit.
“So, uh, you want to try a log flume? There’s one around here,” Ty suggested, pointing in the general direction and I nodded eagerly, welcoming the distraction from Robbie’s incessant jabs.
And so, we travelled over to Escape from Pompeii. I hesitantly grabbed Devin’s hand as he helped me into the front row of seats. The boat wobbled under my feet and my entire body tensed.
“Are there seatbelts?” I asked, looking around as I sat.
“Nah, we don’t need them,” he assured me.
“We don’t need them? What if I fall out?”
Ty sat behind us with Sebastian. “You’re not gonna fall out, Ky,” he said, laughing lightly.
“But—” I began to protest when Devin said, “I won’t let you fall out, okay?”
“Are there any drops?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ve never been here before!” I cried and turned around. “Do you guys know if there are any drops on this thing?”
Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve only been here once, but I don’t remember there being any.”
“I’ll kill you if there is,” I promised, nodding. “I don’t do drops.”
“Hope you wore a diaper, Firecracker,” Robbie called from a couple rows back, and I rolled my eyes, hunkering down in my seat.
“I hate him,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
Sebastian leaned forward, sticking his head between Devin’s shoulder and mine. “I don’t know why you let him get to you. Just ignore him.”
I scowled. “I just don’t—”
The boat lurched forward, and I responded with a squeal and a surprised jolt right into Devin’s side. He laughed, wrapping his arm around me.
“You’re fi
ne,” he insisted, but that boat began moving upward.
I looked up at him doubtfully. “Why are we climbing?”
“It’s fine.”
“Devin, why are we going up?”
“KJ,” he laughed. “Relax.”
I looked around us, and goddammit, we were getting higher. “This is too high! Oh God, I can’t do this!” Sebastian and Ty chuckled from behind us, and my lip trembled.
“It’s fine. Look,” Devin said, pointing ahead, “we’re going through these doors, and there’ll probably be a series of little drops—”
“You said there were no drops, Devin,” I said, weak and pathetically afraid.
“It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
And then, there was one little slope that felt like a twenty-foot drop. I pinched my eyes and held back my scream as my fingers dug into Devin’s side. But then, it passed. I breathed out a deep sigh of relief, feeling confident I could get through the whole ordeal. Next came the bursts of flames on all sides of us, and while my mind relaxed, my body remained tensed to a bone-stiffening degree. My fingers were tighten against Devin’s t-shirt, as we approached another set of doors, and I heard Robbie whoop from behind us.
“Here you go, Firecracker! You ready?”
My stomach flopped. “Dev, what—”
His arm tightened around me as the doors opened, blinding me with bright sunlight, and the boat started tipping … tipping …
“Oh God, no!”
And then, we were falling and my eyelids slammed shut as my stomach jumped to my throat and my knuckles blanched.
“Oh God, oh God, oh fuck, oh fucking fuck!”
It was over in seconds that felt like hours, ending in a splash. I sat in the unmoving boat, shaking, with hot, angry tears running down my face as the boat emptied. Devin leaned over, extending his hand.
“Kylie,” he said softly, his mouth curved in a smile that was both amused and guilt-ridden.
I grasped his hand and on wobbly legs, let him help me out. I fell into him, gripping fistfuls of his shirt, as the embarrassing tears trickled down my face. He led me from the ride and rubbed a hand over my back in soothing circles, and Richard asked if I was okay.
Daisies & Devin Page 27
