Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter thirty-seven

Archie was set up for his long stay at the sitter's with his doggy day care friends, you were headed off to Vegas with Frank, the press tour was only a few days away for you, and Chris' mom gave you her seal of approval. Everything was going so well. Chris had sent you off with an extra kiss, hooking an arm around your waist and leaning in one more time to tell you he loved you before he kissed your forehead, told you to have a safe trip, and headed off to his car and you toward yours. 

The little bit of afternoon delight you snuck in before you had to leave also contributed to the clouds you were floating on. Your iPod got you through your flight. You took in the view of the strip from the limo you took with Frank and Rick to your hotel. You were already contemplating how much you'd let yourself lose to the casino after dinner, when the car pulled up to the hotel. You parted ways with your travel buddies to settle into your room. 

Grabbing a quick bite to eat downstairs, you tried your hand at some of the slots. When you were up $325, after some well played pulls on the machines, you had a hard time figuring out why everyone cursed Lady Luck in Las Vegas. You knew better, to stop while you were ahead, and cashed out feeling like a winner. 

You sent a bragging text to Chris about your windfall and he told you, next time, you were buying dinner. He also sent over Josh and Megan's phone numbers and emails, in case you had any problems on your trip to meet him in China and you couldn't get a hold of him. He called you after the info was sent, spending some time on the phone with you while you painted your toenails to kill time before going to bed.

 Chris told you to have fun and reminded you how excited he was to have you coming along on his trip. "It's going to be great," he promised. "Think there'll be any time for sight seeing?" you wondered, giving a dirty look to the thin, errant line of colour on the end of your toe. Chris hissed in a breath. "I'eee don't know," he slowly admitted. "My schedule is pretty full. I've got photo calls, press conferences, fan appearances, and-""That's okay," you shrugged, picking off the misplaced paint from your big toe.

"What I'm saying is, I don't know that I'm going to get much in," he said. "You don't have to stick around for all that stuff. It won't be much fun for me. I doubt it'd be any better for you. If there's something you wanna do, you should do it. "Ditch you on your press tour?" you balked. "You're not ditching me," he insisted. "But it's kind of ridiculous to expect you to sit around all day, waiting on me. I don't want you to miss out on something you want to do because you sat in some hotel conference room staring at me all day. "I don't kno-ow," you sang. "You're not too shabby to be staring at all day."

On the other end of the line, Chris barked out a laugh and the joyful sound made you smile. You could picture him grabbing at his chest or tilting forward with the force of his amusement. You twisted the cap down on your bottle of polish and set it aside. You inspected your work and Chris recovered, saying, "Thanks, babe. "Any time," you promised. "After all, I am a USDA certified beefcake inspector. "He laughed again, as he lovingly assured you, "That's not a thing, sweetheart. "It should be," you decided. "I'd be the fuckin' boss of that job. "I bet you would," Chris agreed and you beamed at still hearing the smile in his voice. "But seriously though," he went on, "don't waste the whole trip waiting on me.

 We'll have some time together in the evenings. We'll figure out some things to enjoy on the trip, I promise. "I can think of a few things," you playfully suggested. "I'm counting on it," he chuckled. You felt adventurous and headed out to see the sights Saturday morning. You looked around Madame Tussauds, a little bit disappointed none of the Wax Caps lived in Vegas. It would have made for a fun selfie to send Chris. You peeked inside some of the hotel lobbies and did some window shopping around Caesar's Palace and the grand canal at The Venetian. 

The afternoon was gone before you knew it and you hurried back to the hotel for work. On your way into the bustling lobby of your hotel, you caught your phone ringing, just before the call went to voicemail. You had to be one lucky son of a bitch, because it was your manager at the salon, Laura. She was calling to let you know that one of the girls had had a last minute schedule change. She was available to cover your last shift after all. When Laura asked if you were still interested in having the day off, you jumped at the chance. Laura took you off the schedule and you took the elevator upstairs to your room.