Pregnant by Mr. Rockstar

Chapter 6: Keelan Pierce

"Why do you have to be such a jackass, Creed?" I asked, my temper flaring briefly. I stood there helpless as Stefanie and Tiffa walked away from us, all because of the death-grip Creed had on me. For the second time today, I thought of punching him, and I barely got a hold of myself before I could actually do it.

Stefanie. We got that name from her daughter when Creed decided to play private investigator with the little kid. Apparently, they were here as part of the roadies, and Miss Lydia, the head of the staff department, permitted Stefanie to bring her daughter with her with the condition that she behaved well.

In my opinion, Tiffa was a wonderful kid. Although Creed would beg to differ. Either way, his judgment was void. He hated anyone less than the legal age. Wait, no, that wasn't right. He hated everyone, perhaps with the sole exception of me.

"So, we are bringing the big guns. What got you up in such a twist? I'm trying to keep both of us out of trouble," Creed replied caustically.

I frowned at my band member because if anyone would manage to get us caught up in a mess, that would be him.

"Shut up," I grumbled as I pried my arm from his grip. He let me go once he saw that I was heading back to our room.

Creed followed me inside, his sarcastic remarks firing off one after another. "Here I thought we had a solid relationship. A woman shows up and, boom, all hell brakes loose."

"What the hell are you even saying?"

"You're mad at me. You've never been mad at me."

I leveled Creed a blank look because I do get mad at him, more often than I would like to admit. This moment simply made me voice out my annoyance.

Creed stared back at me, his eyes rapidly blinking and an impish smile plastered on his face.

"Uh... what?" I asked because I had no idea what he was doing now.

"Is it working?" He said, doubling his efforts. "You always look at me like this when I'm giving you the cold shoulder. Out of ten attempts, three were usually successful."

A bark of laughter escaped my lips. It was so out of the blue that it came out unbidden. "No way. That has a hundred percent guaranteed effectiveness." I said before sitting down on one of the sofas and propping my legs on the coffee table.

Creed's chuckle followed him as he sat down opposite me, but his expression soon turned serious. "Tread carefully, Keelan. Jacques is already hounding our asses. A single mother with a six-year-old kid? Bigger trouble. We can't afford a scandal right now."

"Aren't you the one who said that there's no such thing as bad publicity?" I fired back, and Creed just rolled his eyes at me, refusing to comment.

It was another thing that we learned from playing with Tiffa. When Creed asked her about her father, she just shrugged and said that her Mommy never talked about him. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. They were probably abandoned by the bastard.

Sad to say, that was a common occurrence in this industry.

"I still want to know why she's mad at me," I whispered.

Creed groaned and picked up two beer bottles from the mini fridge before sitting down again. He tossed the other one to me.

"I'm going to be the crazy person and say it out loud: what are the chances that you knocked her up and left her? That's one f*****g reason to get mad at you," he said after taking a sip of his beer.

I shook my head, staring at the beads of water forming on the body of my beer can. "I'm not... that's impossible, Creed. There is no way."

Creed c****d an eyebrow at me. "I may be the ladies' man between the two of us, but you're far from innocent as well. Anyway, just leave it be. She'll get over it. You should, too."

Standing up, he beckoned me to get ready. "C'mon. Our concert is in two hours. Time to get this show going."

***

Singing had always been my outlet. To see everyone enjoy the songs we created never failed to fill me with joy. Wasn't this what every artist wanted? Not particularly the fame, no, but to be appreciated, even by just a single person.

When Creed and I created the Monarch's Hymn, we only had one goal in mind: to be heard. We worked hard to get where we are right now, and seeing the fruits of our labor come alive tonight made me want to scream out. Our names were shouted by thousands of people, their raised phones like twinkling starlight right on earth.

"Encore! Encore! Encore!"

"Is that the loudest you can do?!" Creed screamed over the mic, and everyone went crazy as their voices reached new heights.

"ENCORE! ENCORE!"

Our roles were defined in this band. Although the Monarch's Hymn only had two members, Creed and I were enough to carry its weight. I was the lead singer, while Creed was the background voice. However, he was the lead instrumentalist, the guitar being his main choice of weapon. I was the bassist that gave structure to our songs.

Creed began the opening chords to one of our hit songs, and the melody complimented my voice as I spoke, building up the music.

"A woman I met in a club inspired this song," I said, my eyes skimming the crowd as if searching for her amongst the chaos. "Her strength drove me forward, to keep pushing, to chase the very stars. Yet I regret that all I remembered of her were her words."

"That's because he's drunk out of his mind," Creed pipped in, making the audience roar with laughter.

I smirked since that wasn't far from the truth. I took a deep breath and began singing, pouring my soul and desperately hoping that she could hear our music, wherever she may be now.

"Every single day, all I could do was breathe. I chased the high and the tides. But now I know, chemicals won't bring you back. You've long grabbed the wick, and let your light detonate."

Creed's scream reverberated throughout the stadium, his voice adding another layer to the symphony, pop punk mixed with metal rock music. "Burn it all down and detonate!"

Mortality was such a beautiful thing. Like all the others, I was oblivious to the magnificence that encapsulates finite. In reality, it was the inevitable end that made the journey meaningful. You treasure things because you know they were not there forever. In some way, she saved me.

We finished the encore with a flourish, fireworks lighting up the sky. The crowd cheered on and on, showering us with countless praises and gifts.

A brown teddy bear landed on my feet, and I picked it up to show it to the audience. It was wearing a golden crown and a red cape was draped over its back. The initials of our band were embroidered on its front. It looked handmade, we didn't sell merch such as this.

I smiled, an idea already forming in my mind. Remembering the reason why Tiffa ended up alone in the hallway, I tucked the teddy bear next to my bass guitar. Tomorrow, it'll meet its new owner, and I knew without a doubt that it'll be in good hands.