"Where are you from?" I asked.
"Alabama." He muttered under his breath, almost like he was embarrassed.
Devon
Devon was Luther and Mary Smith's twelfth child. His mother was nearly forty-eight years old when she found out she was pregnant with him. Mary already had over a dozen grandchildren and several additional ones in the making. In the big scheme of things, it didn't matter--a child was a child, and Mary Smith did her part to raise him.
Devon's father was Pastor Luther, and that's what Devon called him. Pastor Luther preached at
Praise the Lord Baptist Church
in a small town on the outskirts of Montgomery. He was a generational Pastor. For over a hundred fifty years, a Pastor Luther, from great, great grandfather down to Luther III, who was waiting in the wings to take over for their father when he passed on, preached at the small Church, sermonizing the name of God and bringing help to the less fortunate. The Smiths were a consummate, devout, and clannish family. Being a Southern Baptist wasn't a way of life for them. It was who they were.
There was no need for fancy college educations. The Smiths were simple people who did what the generations before them did. They farmed the land they proudly owned free and clear. They sold their goods off the main road at their roadside stand, from fresh eggs to vegetables and even the occasional fresh-caught catfish when there was a successful day at the fishing hole. The taxes were paid, a healthy portion was donated to feed the less fortunate, and a few dollars were in the tin jar in Mama Smith's kitchen cabinet for a rainy day.
Devon was the first child to want more. He didn't want to live the same mundane existence everyone else in his family lived. He wanted more out of life. He wasn't like his siblings. He was smart, smarter than anyone that had ever been born in the Smith family. He was a straight
'A
' student, was Captain of the Field & Track team, and brought his high school to their first-ever state championship. It also garnered him a full scholarship to Tulane University, where he continued to grow and excel.
Four years later, college was over, and Devon graduated with honors and a degree in business. There was no one in the audience to cheer him on. His family remained at home. No matter the reason, traveling more than half an hour from their home was unheard of. Education was for other people, not this clan of Smiths. Devon was required to return to the fold and do what was expected of him. The only problem was that Devon couldn't bring himself to go back, and for the first time in his life, he lied. He told his parents that he was offered an internship at a large investment firm in Los Angeles. Pastor Luther, tired of his son turning his back on tradition and family, only said one thing, '
if the boy wants to go, let him go. He knows the way home
.'
Devon packed his life possessions in a suitcase, bought a one-way bus ticket, and headed to what he hoped would be his destiny. He knew there would be no turning back. From the bus window, he watched the south disappear and knew that for as long as he lived, he'd never return.
LA was a culture shock for Devon. At home, everyone knew everyone, and even in New Orleans, the shield of Tulane kept him unaware of the bigger world around him. LA was just so vast. You were nothing, and only the strongest survived. The concrete jungle that occupied every space around him was cold and unfeeling. He wasn't a person. His life was reduced to being a number and, most of the time, simply a '
Next...
'
Not only did Devon have brains, but he was stunningly handsome as well. To make extra money while in school, he modeled for an up-and-coming agency in New Orleans and built a decent portfolio. In his sophomore year, on the advice of his agent, Devon started shaving his head bald, perfecting his Taye Diggs look, and increasing his demand for runway work and print ads. He might not have been overly tall, but with the proper training, he carried himself like a giant. Devon had a great body, a nice smile, the deepest hazel eyes, and dripped raw sexuality when he strutted down the runway. The camera loved him, and if it had not been for his determination to finish his education, he could have adopted modeling as a profession. The only critique he ever received regarding his modeling was that he needed to lose his shyness.
Devon was a realist. He didn't have dreams of grandeur. He was willing to take things slowly and work up to his goals, which still weren't clearly defined. The important thing was to get a job where he could earn enough money to keep a roof over his head and maybe a little extra to allow him to continue his education. At twenty-two, he had plenty of time to make his way in the world.
Even with great referrals, Devon had to fight for every modeling job he could get. This wasn't New Orleans where he was coveted; in Los Angeles, he was just like thousands of other people fighting to earn a buck and get any job they could get. In the end, he settled for catalog work. The pay was per job, with one or two jobs a week.
On his first job, he met one of the other models, Trevor, whom Devon affectionately called Trev - something no one else did. Trev lived in a small Craftsman-style house in West Hollywood with his fiancée, Em. Two years earlier, Trev and Em had arrived from Cheyenne, Wyoming, with stars in their eyes and the hopes that Trev could find fame and fortune in Hollywood. Instead, they found thousands of people like him wanting the same thing.
Trev and Em had just lost their roommate of the past year, and after meeting Devon, they didn't hesitate to invite him to move in with them. It was a no-brainer for Devon. Since his arrival in LA, he had been living in a weekly, extended-stay hotel that was more expensive than Trev was offering for the rent on his place.
Devon moved into their house a few days after meeting them. Their friendship was instantaneous, and soon, LA didn't feel so big, cold, and ominous. It took no time for each of them to contribute to their living arrangements. Em was the consistent breadwinner, working as an administrative assistant in a law office a short bus ride from the house. Trev had a car, which was essential in Los Angeles. Devon kept the house neat and orderly and did most of the cooking.
The part-time modeling work covered Devon's monthly rent and kept him fed. There was barely any money for anything else. Devon's portion of the rent gave Trev and Emily some much-needed breathing room and afforded Trev more acting classes, which he'd learned was the key to getting possible extra studio work.
The two men complemented each other with their good looks. With his dark, perfect, chocolate-colored skin and handsome face, Devon looked great against Trev's blonde hair and blue eyes. Trev never bulked at taking Devon to a shoot when they weren't booked together. It was to his advantage to be on sight at a shoot, just in case something came up and they needed another man, which, fortunately for him, happened often. When modeling jobs were plentiful, Devon always added a few extra bucks to cover a tank or two of gas. He never wanted anyone to think he was taking advantage of them.
Devon was the perfect roommate. Not only was he quiet, but he also had no vices. He held strict to his Southern Baptist roots and didn't drink, smoke, or do drugs. He never complained about anything, especially Trev and Em's shameless sexual antics.
Sex was the one thing Devon hadn't dared to address. He was as virginal as the day he was born, except for an active imagination. Devon came from a life where men and women didn't have sex until they were married.
Devon's biggest problem was that as much as he felt obligated to be with a woman, he couldn't stop thinking about men. Something he was never able to comprehend. He wasn't so naïve he didn't know about bisexuality or homosexuality. It was just something that never fit into his world. Well, that was until the morning he woke up after having a wet dream about a man. It boiled down to the fact that Devon was born into a strict and controlling world of religious dogmatists, and for the longest time, he believed that if he even had a wayward thought about men, God would smite him.
