Thorns On My Rose: A Story of the Daughter of Robert Downey Jr. (EDITING)

Chapter 23 - A Step in the Right (Or Wrong?) Direction

Alana-Rose's Perspective

"Ma!" I yelled, slamming the door behind me. God, it was freezing outside.

There was no response. As per the fricking usual.

"Dammit. She told me she was gonna be here." I groaned.

"Babe, calm down. It's gonna be fine."

I ignored my optimistic boyfriend, my jaw clenching wildly.

I debated where e or not I should take off my coat, knowing that Mom should be down any minute. Brent kept talking, trying to make me feel better.

“The concert doesn't start till--what? Like ten?" Brent asked, taking off his shoes that were wet from the snow.

I sighed. "Yes, dear, but I made reservations at that new restaurant uptown for seven, and if we don't get there soon... Ugh the whole fricking schedule will be thrown off!"

"Aw, baby. You're so adorable when you're frustrated."

I stabbed a finger to his chest and he raised his eyebrows, smirking.

"Don't mess with me, Brent Fisher. I'm not kidding. This is an important night for me."

My boyfriend chuckled, taking off his coat and then helped me out of mine before he removed his gloves. I guess he knew that Mom would be running late, too.

"I didn't babysit snotty nose brats all summer in that stupid daycare and walk dogs in the blistering Sun to miss this Maroon 5 concert, and I will be damned if I do!"

Brent had a smile on his face, laughing softly. “You yelling at me is such a turn on."

Once we were through taking off our winter gear, I dragged Brent with me into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow when I saw a dark-skinned man stirring around unknown contents in a big pot that we usually reserved for spaghetti and soups.

Okay. Weird, much? Awkward, more.

The man turned, smiling when he saw me. He gave me a quick once over, her brown eyes calculating and direct. He nodded, as if he'd just made an important decision.

Brent stepped up from behind me, making his presence known to the man, but was totally ignored. He shouldn't have even bothered, as the man's eyes remained glued on me.

"You must be Alana-Rose." The man's deep voice echoed through the kitchen. There was a slight lilt in his voice, something foreign sounding. I couldn't place my finger on where he was from, but it definitely wasn't America, though the foreign accent was barely there.

"Yep, that would be me." I said, confused. My eyes darted around the kitchen and I looked up at Brent, his blue eyes protective.

I looked back towards the black man, and without my eyes leaving his, I said "Babe, could you go see where my mother is real quick?"

The man looked up at Brent as if he had just now noticed him, his polite smile still on his distinguished features. Brent looked down at me, a question in his eyes. I could tell he was protesting leaving me here with this guy.

I nodded furiously. "Now, please, darling. Now." I gave him a gentle push towards the door and he grunted but let go of my hand, retreating out of our kitchen.

I sat down on a stool by the bar, clamping my hands in my lap, my fingers fiddling with a piece of string on my scarf. I assessed this man quickly, taking in his dark black hair that was peppered with a distinguished gray. He was handsome with smooth, clear skin and his tall, solid build. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a long sleeve button up with a bright blue tie.