Behind The Scenes

Chapter Eight

*Charlottes POV*

"If there's anything you need, anything at all, you have my number."

Those words ran through my head as I went to bed that night. My dad didn't even tell me that much, let alone, "I love you". I'm pretty sure that I've never heard that man say the word love, in my entire life.

Aside from that, I can't help but wonder why in my entire life, I haven't grown even remotely close to a man, until now, and when I do, the connection happens almost instantly.

And of all people, Robert Downey Jr. I just can't wrap my hands around the thought that this famous guy, who can literally hang out with anyone else, hangs out with me on his day off. He made the choice to be with me, rather than some chick who is a million times hotter than me.

It's almost like he is a using me. Like how the super hot jock in high school, gets all buddy buddy with the ugly nerd girl, and in the end, he is just using her to get to her hot friend.

I have to break off what ever is happening, before it ends up hurting me, and possibly more.

Before I can continue my thoughts, I am interrupted by several large bangs on my door that I can hear it through my ear buds. I take out my ear buds and grab my phone that is charging right next to me, to see what the time is, 10:36. I grunt as I stand up from the bed, and walk over to the door.

I was a bit surprised when I opened the door. I was expecting a large male, probably a police officer because of how loud the bangs were, but in fact it was a petit woman, in her twenties, I don't recognize her.

"Hi, are you Charlotte Paxton?" She has dark brown hair, and is wearing black leggings with a long grey shirt.

"Yes?" I question as to why she is knocking at my door at almost eleven o'clock at night.

"Hi, um, Robert is very tipsy, and won't stop calling your name. We went over to see if he was okay but he won't talk to us." I almost laugh at the situation since I can already picture it in my mind.

"Okay." I say stepping down out of the trailer, and close the door behind me. As I follow her to his trailer, I hear him talking very loudly to someone.

We finally get to the trailer, and she opens the door for me. As I enter, I see Jon and Gwyneth sitting at the table, staring at me. When I fully get into the trailer, I see Robert, with a 44 revolver in his left hand, and a bottle of tequila in the other.

"Charlotte." Robert says like it's a relief.

"We haven't been able to get him to drop the gun." Jon says.

"Can you guys leave us alone for a sec?" Robert says sluring every word he says.

"It's fine." I say to Jon and Gwyneth.

"We will be right outside if you need anything." Gwyneth says as both of them leave, and it is just Robert and I, alone.

"How you doing?" I ask, not really afraid of the gun. I grew up around guns, I've had my dad point one at me when he was drunk. We went through that drill several times.

He starts to cry, and starts saying a bunch of gibberish.

"Hey, it's okay." I try to calm him down while still standing there. He is just laying on the couch waving the gun around as he tries to say something, and I'm only able to get the word, Dad, out of anything he says. "Is it about your dad?"

"Yeah." He pauses, "He called, and he was drunk. And he told me how much of a fucking screw up I was, and how I never did anything. And that I screwed him and our entire family over." He took deep breaths in between each sentence.

"You know that's not true." I slowly start to walk over to him.

"Well that's a little hard to believe when it comes from my dad. Regardless of how fucking shitty he was at being a dad, I always looked up to him." He pauses, "And there was one time, in little league, when we won the world series, and you know what he said?"

"What?" I almost whisper but he knew what I said.

"Good job." He pauses, and sets his hand along with the gun down on his left leg, "That was the only time he told me something positive about something I had done. I knew that if he could do it then, then he would do it again, so I strived to do my best, do better than the rest. I looked up to him, and when he fucking calls me like this, and tells me how much of a fucking disappointment I am, and how much of a fucking screw up I am."

"That fucking sucks." Is all I say as I walking over to him. I grab the gun out of his, and set it on the table, then go and sit next to him on the couch. "But you have to understand that he's not really telling you how much, you, suck."

He finally looks me in the eye when I tell him this.

"He's telling you, in his own way, how much of a screw up, and disappointment, and shitty father he was. As much as he made you believe it was your fault, it wasn't, and he knew it wasn't." I pause and clear my throat, "You are an amazing man, with an extraordinary talent. You may not see it now, but I see it, and everyone around you sees it too."

He sets his tequila down on the floor and hugs me, with a very tight grip. 

"When I see you, I don't see a failure, or a disappointment, or a screw up, I see a man, who has gone through struggles that no one else has, but has over come those hurdles and become someone more, someone who is a positive roll model that everyone of all ages can look up to." I whisper in his ear, I pull away and we look at eachother in the eyes once again, "In no way, shape, or form do I see a disappointment."