DEVON, LESLIE.

[LESLIE DEVON]

leslie samantha devon

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: none;,true][cs=2][atrb=width,300] hey there. the name's leslie samantha devon! i go by les, lsd, dev, and devon too if you were wondering. also i'll have you know that i am twenty six & loving it. oh. you've heard that I'm bi curious? & that I'm from las vegas, nevada? well the rumors are true for once. well I gotta get going, police officer is calling. see ya'! history Pass me a beer. She'd heard the command a thousand times before and without a hint of protest, the seven year old stood from where she sat at the foot of her father's special brown recliner and headed for the fridge only a few steps away. The apartment was small and above a taco place so their house always smelled like Mexican food. Leslie never paid any mind to it. She was fine just having a roof over her head and a place to even call home. Grabbing the beer, she went back into the living room only a very short distance away and handed him the cold beer. He never said thank you and she never bothered asking for such a favor in return. Clad in a loose football jersey for the New York Giants (her father was originally from New York City), some baggy and tattered blue jeans, and a fitted cap put on backwards, she would have looked like a boy if one didn't notice the blonde hair in the loose and low ponytail on the nape of her neck. And that was how she spent most of her Sundays. Her mother wasn't around much. She usually only came by when she thought she could convince Leslie to go home with her because her father, who her mother was still married to, was a drunk but Leslie liked those Sundays, fetching him a beer, making him a sandwich at half time, and then sitting there and watching the game with him. The two did that every single damn Sunday up until she was fourteen and her mother passed away. Her life had never been anything grand. Her father worked as a plumber and her mother used to be a hair stylist. They'd been young, in love, and had gone to Las Vegas to get married at the age of eighteen and ended up just never leaving. It was how Leslie came to be, a year later, and how their passion died with the fading tail lights on either side of a New York City license plate. Her mother missed home but she made it obvious she didn't miss Leslie. She was left behind in the dust with her father clinging to her not to leave her as well. So she didn't and she never wanted to. He had his faults, but he was her father. She didn't mind getting smacked upside the head or getting a punch to the ribs every now and again because he still gave her food, he still gave her shelter, he still protected her form the bad guys even when he was sometimes the bad guy, and he sat there and watched football or soccer or whatever sport with her-or played with her on her old sega or nintendo-eventually her playstation. She didn't need anything else. A couple bruises created during a drunk delirium didn't phase her one bit. It was abuse she'd become quickly accustomed to. When news reached her that her mother died because she'd been allergic to the anesthetic they'd given her before a surgery, Leslie shrugged it off. It sucks that her mother died in such a way-tragic she didn't even know what she was allergic to. But what probably stirred a bit of restlessness inside her was never having gone to the funeral. They didn't have money to go to New York City. Not both of them at least. By the time she graduated high school, she had braces and glasses and the same baggy jerseies most would find appalling. Her hair was always up in a ponytail and she had been the captain of the basketball team and track team. She was a sports fanatic in all ways. When it came time to decide what she wanted to do with her life, she knew, immediately, that she wanted to be a police officer. Her father has always wanted to be one but he never was able to do what he wanted since she came along. So she enlisted to go into the police academy and was glad to see the large, drunk smile on her father's face even as he said pass me a beer...officer. It was in the academy that she met two men that would become her closest friends on the entire face of planet earth: Dylan and Ashton (surnames). The two had already been best friends since high school but they welcomed Leslie, who they dubbed Devon, as one of the guys. It was understandable with her braces, glasses, and constantly messy hair. Her body was hidden under baggy clothing and overall, people came to know her as a goofball and a tomboy. She laughed and made jokes and was just the type of person who liked trying to make every one happy by bending over backward. The night after the graduated from the California Police Academy, the trio went out to a bar to celebrate. Soon enough, they were all piss drunk. Leslie, never having been with a guy-much less kiss one-was surprised in the morning when she woke up in Dylan's bedroom with him draped over her, sleeping so deeply, he was snoring. Dylan was a known womanizer. His charm and good looks along with the perfect dash of asshole and egotistical mannerisms had him reigning in the opposite gender like it was some kind of competition. When he came to, since she couldn't move, she still-to this day-could remember what he said to her, good morning, beautiful...but when his eyes adjusted under the faint morning sunshine, she realized he'd changed his mind on the beautiful part. She'd put her glasses back on because she felt blind without them and when she smiled her metal mouth smile, his eyes widened as if she were the bride of Frankenstein. The look itself said it all and she pushed him off of her, making sure to stay covered up, got her clothing on, and was about to be out the door when he grabbed her and told her not to tell anyone about what happened. She could tell it was from embarrassment and that was enough to make her snap. Leslie went home and after a week of avoiding both Dylan and Ashton for fear she'd tell Ashton since she told him everything, she woke up to find her father had passed away on his favorite recliner back in Las Vegas-from alcohol poisoning. That pushed her over the edge. Without anything holding her back, she suddenly enlisted in the USMC. She disappeared for four years on active duty and just recently came back to find Ashton happily engaged and with a baby on the way. He still kept in touch with Dylan but since the death of his partner in a car crash, Ashton explained he was crazier than when she had left without saying a word. Still in the reserve, she was able to get a job as a police officer at Sapphire Bay where Ashton and Dylan worked-avoiding Dylan. Soon enough, though, Leslie's partner, an old man with wisdom beyond comprehension, retired and she was assigned a new partner...Dylan. Now at the age of twenty six, four years after that stupid one night stand, she knew she looked better than before. She had corrective laser surgery on her eyes so she wouldn't need her glasses, her braces were finally taken off so she didn't have a mouth full of metal, and all that training and time spent in the war? Well, her body was killer underneath the uniform and with it. She'd gone from ugly duckling to a full fledged swan and though she knew it-after everything, she was no longer the goofball she used to be. She stopped being such a pushover and grew a backbone. She became stronger...though she occasionally slipped back into her old habits every now and again. This was the new her and she did want Dylan, the guy who took her first kiss and her virginity at the age of twenty two to have any of it because now he looked at her like she was fair game-but for him she was forever closed off. personality One could say Leslie is...unique. Her toddler years, the few spent with both parents, she was the sweetest babe anyone could ever meet. Sure she had crooked teeth and hair that was too short to be considered feminine but she was adorable nonetheless. She was always respectful to those older than her and liked to rough is out with the boys. She never cared for Barbie Dolls or make up or baking or anything. She was like a little boy trapped in a little girl’s body. By the time her mother left, around the time she was six, she was a full fledged guy with her flat chest, like most six year olds, and was a skinny little noodle of a gal. She was slowly growing into a goofball who was serious about sports and brushed off comments and insults about the way she looked like it mattered. She wasn’t one of those kids too mature for their age. No, she acted her age and she enjoyed it. Always a tad bit immature, there were only two situations or occasions in which she was serious: a) when she was watching a sports game with her father or friends or whoever, and b) when her dad was pissed or frustrated with her about something and would take it out on her. The years of abuse from her drunk father did do a number on her, though. She still loved him but it soon turned into her loving and adoring the wrong people. She came to realize, come her teenage years, she would forever be branded as the girl with all the friends that were boys but no boyfriends. She was never kissed, never even asked to dances, and she never made it to prom. Leslie was still goofy, still immature, still liked just being one of the guy, but it hardened her up a bit not to take it all to heart. She knew the day she did was the day everything would go to hell and it would probably be all over for her; she’d succumb to the ways of femininity that society implemented. And it did happen. Eventually, after going through the police academy, the unusual death of her mother, the unexpected death of her father, boot camp, war, and seeing that the world wasn’t only California and New York City, she became colder and less goofy. She, in many ways, grew up. Leslie became a bit bitter but she kept on trying to smile through it. Instead of being all loud and obnoxious and crazy, she was more sullen and quiet, reserved in her own ways and one would think, with her huge make over from ugly duckling to glamazon and all the guys now lining up wanting to ask her out on dates and such, that she would have more confidence and self awareness. Instead, it just made her withdraw more into herself, a tad bit uncomfortable most of the time strutting around in heels and skirts her, finally, girl friends instructed her to use once they’d gotten it for her. Leslie became the cop she never could be if she hadn’t gone to boot camp-the no nonsense, don’t fuck with me attitude while on patrol or on call and when out of uniform, she was just too quiet for any of her old friends’ liking. But they all know her and her patience isn’t exactly the best and her temper is a tad bit shorter than most. Eventually, they know she’ll just explode into fireworks.

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