Chapter 52

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Alana

       I had a bad feeling things wouldn't go well with my father at dinner. The music drifting in the car did not work as a distraction, not that I was paying much attention. I checked the dashboard and it read eight sharp. We'd dropped Minnie and Elsa at Rowan's fathers place about two hours ago. Rowan appeared tense so I offered to drive and he let me which told me the situation was even worse than I thought.

He didn't say anything only stared out the window. "It's going to be okay." I assured him.

My heart started to pound fiercely, I thought it was going to take a leap out. I wasn't going to show it to Rowan though. He didn't need to be any more anxious then he already was. I pulled the car into the driveway and parked it just beside my dad's Toyota Rav4. I noticed the kitchen lights were switched on, and I smelled the familiar aroma of fried chicken which made me nostalgic.

I laced my fingers through Rowan's ice cold as we walked towards the entrance of my house. It was small and cozy, nothing like Rowan's large mansion. I only hoped Rowan would like my home. He stopped right in front of the main door, the gift in his arms glinted because of the fancy paper it was wrapped in.

"What's wrong?" I gave his fingers a squeeze.

His face held the kind of sadness I hated to see. "I'm scared, Alana. I haven't been this nervous in my life." 

"I promise he will like you." I went on my tip toes, and pressed my lips to his.

He wasn't going to let go of my hand, if that was going to make him feel better, I wanted him to hold onto me. I wanted my father to see the man I loved.

I knocked on the door once. I heard the sounds of footsteps retreating. I was going to explode with excitement and agitation, kind of like a ball of emotions rolling in my stomach. My father stood in the doorway, his smile reached his once dark eyes. His arms were wide open, as always.

"Daddy.."

In order to run into my father's arms, I let go of Rowan's hand. My dad wrapped his arms around me. The familiar after- shave mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes hit my nostrils.

Yes, I was home.

****

Rowan

       Meeting Alana's father seemed like the biggest complication in my life that I never had. What was the big deal about it? It was just going to be a friendly dinner, the more I assured myself, the lesser I believed it. Her father was going to judge me. Period. And probably even swat me away like a damn fly, should he run a background check. Rowan Masters had a reputation of being the town clown back in the day, not that he'd find out, unless of course I told him that myself which I planned on doing with just the right amount of sugar coating.

    I didn't have much time to decide what I had to say to her father, or how he'd react. The main door opened. Alana's father stood in the doorway, a welcoming smile tugged his moustache rimmed lips. And that welcoming smile turned less welcoming as he scanned me. For me this was a fine welcome, since I was expecting him with a loaded shot-gun. Alana's fingers slipped out of my hand as she ran into his open arms, he enveloped her in a father-daughter bear hug.

"Daddy." She took an intake of breath and her face fell, "You've been smoking again, haven't you?"

Her father shrugged. "Just one."

I heard a faint 'yeah, whatever'.

The father-daughter duo turned to me, but before either of them could speak or rant a welcoming speech, a large dark Saint Bernard ran right through the back door and into the living area. The dog came right at me and I swear on every goddamn creature I'd ever laid eyes upon, he was massive. He could make a baby elephant look like a ant.

"Hey, buddy." I ruffled the enthusiastic dog's ears; I had to balance the gift in my arms. One leap from this heavy boy and I was taking down the bottle of fine champagne, and not to mention, the twin glasses that came with it. I'd paid too damn much to impress her father.

   I glanced around the place; it was a two story house, decorated with suitable furniture. Nothing fancy but it gave the place a feeling of what a home should be. A narrow wooden staircase separated the living area and the kitchen. 

Alana's father was yet to acknowledge me, I glanced up from the dog to meet with a pair of very suspicious eyes, either studying me or trying to intimidate me. I didn't like the sound of either options. Rick Hayes was a middle-aged good looking man; I was guessing he was a few years younger to my mother, probably mid-fifties. His eyes were a color of deep hazel, very contrasting to his daughters which were pure black, but that's where the similarities ended. Their face structure was just the same. DNA samples were not needed to match or prove a point.

He smiled almost forcefully and offered me a handshake, "Rick."

"Rowan." I shook hands with him and cringed as he added more pressure on the hand-shake, like he was trying to prove a point. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

I handed him the present.

"What do we have here?" he brought the box on the little round dining table and opened it. He pulled out the bottle of champagne. He nodded at me approvingly. "How lovely, thank you, Mr. Masters, that was very kind of you."

"Rowan is fine, sir, I insist." I said. Somehow, him calling me Mr. Masters gave me some wrong signal. There was an edge, like he was reminding me of my past, the professor who taught more than economics, the professor who seduced his daughter from the classroom desk and into his bed. I swallowed.

"Rowan, why don't you and Alana watch TV or something while I prepare dinner. I'll join you kids in a few minutes." Rick pulled out a cutting board and began dicing the vegetables.

"Where's the brain surgeon?" Alana asked her father. "Got to run an emergency?"

He gave Alana a look of warning. "She's your mother, Alana. I respect that woman, and I expect you to do the same. I sent her to your grandfather's house. He needs her at the moment."

"Right." Alana smiled. "And we don't need her."

He sighed and shook his head.

I started to feel uncomfortable and just out of place so I joined them in the kitchen and stood near the island counter where Alana's father chopped the veggies.

I reached for a kitchen knife, "sir, may I?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "sure." that's when I received a very genuine smile, another vibrant one passed to me from his daughter. She slid on the counter high chairs, studying us with an animated happiness, giving me an impression that she was watching one of those Fantasy Disney movies. Honestly, I wasn't looking to impress her father. It was just instinct when I saw the kitchen.

I diced the cabbage slowly with precision, the way any chef on tv would do and pushed the contents in the glass bowl, while Rick deep fried homemade shrimps. A jar of plain mayonnaise was kept on the counter ready to serve.

I pointed at the jar. "I think a tartar sauce dip will go well with the shrimps. I'd like to make some if you'd allow me."

"The kitchen is yours." Rick grinned at me, pulling out appetizing golden brown shrimps, "You enjoy cooking?"

"Yes, sir. I do most of the cooking at my condo." I responded, "My daughter enjoys my cooking."

"Oh yes, Alana told me about your daughter." he continued, "It's very nice of you do something like that."

"I...I don't understand, sir..." I was confused. Had she lied to him?

Rick appeared to be puzzled for a moment. "She's actually your niece, right?"

It was time to pull one of those bags of secrets. "Um, No." As soon as that word came out my mouth, Alana was suddenly fidgeting. "Minnie is my daughter. I'm her biological father."

Alana blew out a breath. She was avoiding eye contact with her father who was shooting bullets, yes, not even daggers. He was shooting bullets directly at her. I sure as hell knew it would be grenades by the end of the night.

Rick turned towards me; the shrimps in the plate beside him were breathing some fresh air. His eyes as cold as a murderer, he was reading more into the story then what I was letting him read on. That speculation happened to be right since his next question was, "You're married, aren't you?"

  I stopped dicing the lettuce for a minute to face him. It would appear rude if I ignored him and continued the work at hand.

"No. I'm not married."

"Then, is she a love child?"

Before I could process that question, Alana protested. "Dad!"

I'd expected that question sooner or later, maybe framed in a much appropriate way.

"Yes." I answered. 

"And where's her mother?" the obvious question.

"She left us a few years ago." I was trying to keep it strictly one sentence and one word.

"Can you tell me why?"

"Dad!" Alana climbed to her feet and closed the distance between us, "Don't you think you're invading personal territory here? That's Rowan's life."

He glared her down. "If you're going to date this man, I want to know everything that's there to him."

I reached for the jar of mayonnaise and scooped a few spoonful into a tiny bowl and squeezed lime juice into it. "Your father's right, Alana, he has a right to know everything about me."

****

    Alana

  I quickly changed the subject and went on to blabber on and bore him about college and other not so important subjects that my dad wasn't really keen on listening to. So far, Rowan had only piqued his interest and for all the wrong reasons. Dad had an old habit of analyzing people's behavior and clearly he was imagining Rowan in his court room.

     I ate my food quietly; so far it was turning out to be a fine dinner, better then how I imagined it would go. But, I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Rowan was already jittery and nervous, and my dad was doing nothing to make it seem less intolerable. Dad's skeptical stare was dead-locked on Rowan as he forked the grilled chicken. There was more to my father's dubious stares the just sheer curiosity.

"You like the chicken?" that was the most decent question of the evening that dad had asked.

Rowan nodded. "It's really good. I'd love to learn the secret recipe for the chicken marinade."

Dad began explaining to Rowan about how it was done, the right amount of spices and everything. At one point of time, I wondered if they'd forgotten I was also part of the dinner table.

I didn't need their attention as long as they maintained civility and did not slit their throats by the end of the night. One couldn't stop hoping.

"So what was Alana like as a student?" Dad asked, taking a bite of the food. He glanced at me and smiled, turned to face Rowan, "Tell me as her ex-professor. Now, I don't expect any biased answers."

"Hello!" I waved my hand at my dad, sitting opposite us. "I'm sitting right here. Are we like doing PTA all over again?"

Rowan chuckled; he caressed my fingers under the table. I squeezed his hand back. "I'll be honest with you, sir; Alana is a hard working girl. She had average grades during the start of the first year but, that quickly changed. She was good until a few months later, until everything just went spiral."

"I don't understand why would you risk a job for a student. Why give in to an infatuation?"

I couldn't believe I just heard that. He called us a fucking infatuation? Rowan and I were going back and forth for an infatuation?

I laced my fingers through his, waiting for an answer.

"I love Alana."

My heart stopped beating all at once. I hadn't expected him to put it so bluntly, but, it's what my father needed to understand.

Rowan continued, "I've said this before, but I'd do it again if I have to. I wouldn't call my feelings towards her an infatuation. I never regretted the best part of my past life and your daughter is one of the best things that could ever happen to me."

"And what's the other best thing that happened, if I may ask?" Dad was quick, I bet he had kept a written note pad all rolled up with a list of questionnaire.

"My daughter Minnie." Rowan responded.

I think I saw a thin line of respect cross my father's agitated face. He wouldn't admit he was impressed. Not yet.

"You're obviously not teaching anymore, right?"

Rowan gave a nod. His plate still seemed to be crowded with the first helping. Why was my dad doing this? Why was he giving Rowan a chance to hate him? Rowan was talking which was a miracle, considering the fact that he was never a social bee. He was trying, for me.

Ronnie remained glued to Rowan since the time he'd entered the house, Ronnie's face rested on Rowan's lap, his saliva had already made a wet spot on the denims. Ronnie was in love.

"I have an interview for an economics professor at the Lowell University in the neighboring town. I also have a few modeling contracts, plus my brother's been hounding me to take care of a department in the company, which I'm not sure if I'll be able to manage. Although my father insists on me helping him."

My dad nodded in agreement. "Your father is?"

  There goes the background check. Smooth, daddy. Real smooth.

  Rowan was too thick to get my father's elaborate schemed questionnaire. "Gary Masters. I'm sure you know him, sir."

"Well, I do but not on a personal level. One of the other leading companies in the country had filed a case against him. I worked on that case, as your father's opposing counsel. It was a long time ago; you kids were probably in school."

"I'm not a big fan of my father's ways of dealing business. I never appreciated it to begin with. And that's one reason I don't want to be a part of it."

"Son, it's not your father's fault. You need to remain as cold and cynical as possible, with no regard whatsoever to human sensitivities if you have to survive this industry. You either choose to get trampled on or crush the system, that's the way we roll."

"I agree with you." Rowan said as he sipped the champagne flute.

Did he just call Rowan's father cold and cynical?

We ate our food in silence; I was hardly part of their conversation. Ask me what topic they missed out, from movies, to politics and they damn near covered every aspect of what's there to life. I was both surprised and amused with how well their tastes matched where movies and sports were concerned.

Next was desert on the menu, I never had time to appear stunned or gape at my father for his beautiful hospitality. Each of our plates was served with a large moist slice of strawberry cheese cake, with oozing syrup. I couldn't wait to dig in. Part of my mind wondered if this was how my father was trying to impress his future son-in-law. Let's keep the future son-in-law part to ourselves, shall we?

"What's it like in Denmark? Alana told me you lived there for a while." I noticed he'd asked Rowan out of curiosity, he just wanted to know what it was like being away in a foreign country. But, what my father didn't know was that Rowan was in Demark for very different and unusual reasons. Reasons which would make him to judge Rowan, something that I was dodging since the evening.

I'd already briefed Rowan as to what he was supposed to say. Rowan was in Denmark for work purposes and during that time he ran into Karl Hansen, who offered him a modeling contract. See? Simple? Lying was easy if it was done for a good purpose.

"Good experience is not exactly the right word. I was in Denmark for other personal reasons. Work definitely wasn't among them."

My breath hitched for a moment, a frigid bolt of fear tightened my chest. I gave Rowan a look of warning.

"May I ask what it was?" Dad frowned at Rowan.

Rowan sighed, "I'm not sure what Alana told you sir, but, I went to Denmark to get rid of my drug abuse and alcohol addiction. I'm diagnosed with depression. I admitted myself in a rehabilitation facility for a two year program. That's where I had been for the past two years."

I wanted to drown my face in a bucket full of misery; and I was hoping the ground would wallow me up whole. I wanted the gates of hell to open right in front of me because I knew what was yet to follow, anything was better than Rickson Hayes silent fury.

Note: I used his full name. You get the idea how serious this issue was?

I was beyond irate. I wanted to ask Rowan why he'd lied to me and told my father about the past he usually never liked to speak of. Then I realized he was doing it for me, he was done lying to the world, pretending to be perfect. He wanted people to understand that he was never like the others. He could never be. A tear grazed my cheek which I quickly wiped.

Rowan was still holding my hand in his. I didn't dare a look in my father's direction. I knew he was gearing up for a rant and Rowan had pushed me in a bucket filled with deep shit of trouble. Granted, he was jumping in that bucket along with me.

"Alana, can I have a word with you in private?"  Dad said, he didn't wait for me as he strode away from the table in the back yard and into the living area.

  That's what I resented on hearing. That exact question.

I glanced at Rowan, and he looked at me. Everything was going to be alright, I kept telling myself.

****

A.N: Early update today! Some stuff about to go down in the next chapter lol. Hope y'all enjoyed reading this chapter :) Please don't forget to Vote and Comment telling me what you think.

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