Chapter 4: Keelan Pierce
1376 Words
I slung the guitar case over my shoulder and opened the door of our private bus. Usually, our equipment would be hauled by the support staff, but I liked bringing this guitar myself. It was the first one I bought with my own money after our very first concert. I didn't want others to touch something with that much sentimental value to me.
Creed, though, couldn't care less. He stepped beside me with nothing but his clothes and phone in hand.
"We should rehearse before tonight," Creed said as he began walking towards the venue. It was an hour past noon, and we still had plenty of time to practice.
I followed him inside and immediately took notice of the support staff preparing the place for the concert. Roadies was the common term for them, the busy bees of the tour and half of the reason why this event was made possible.
"They hired a lot of people this time," I commented.
Creed scoffed. "Of course they would. Remember when Gwen made a scene at our last concert?"
I nodded. Gwen threw a fit after no one entertained her requests. Everyone was occupied, and she was an uninvited guest. Still, as a famous singer and actress, she had some sway over Jacques and the company.
Remembering all of that made me groan out loud. It didn't help that we just saw her and Jacques the other day.
"Do you think they'll push through the collab?" I asked Creed.
We had another round of discussion about that rotten partnership again. After several back and forths and a few heated snide comments, we ended up asking for an extended time to 'think' about it.
Except there was no 'thinking' needed. If we had our way, the answer was a resounding no.
"God, I hope not. I can't stand her. And Jacques keeps spoiling her. She needs to be put in her place," Creed replied with a frown on his face.
"As long as that place isn't anywhere near us, I'm all good," I said and pulled him along. "Hurry up. Let's think about sunshine and rainbows for a while. We won't be seeing Gwen again until our third concert night anyway."
There was a hallway situated around the domed stadium that led towards the private rooms. We continued down the path until we reached the corner that would bring us to our dressing quarter.
However, we had a slight problem.
A small kid with blonde hair and blue eyes stood alone in the middle of the hallway. Since this area was where the private rooms were located, only a few roadies ventured in here. What was a child doing here?
Creed sighed. "I'll call one of the staff to announce a missing kid."
Before I could protest or anything, Creed was already walking away. He was never good around children.
I gave him an admonishing look behind his back that I hoped he felt, despite him not seeing me, and then I turned and approached the kid. She was small, probably around six years old. For some reason, she looked so familiar to me, especially her eyes.
I kneeled in front of her so we could be at eye level. Thankfully, she wasn't crying. She looked scared, though.
"Hi, I'm Keelan. What's your name?" I asked her.
I silently cursed when I realized that we should've asked her name first before making the announcement. Damn Creed and his impulsive tendencies.
The kid's voice pulled me out of my musings. "I'm Tiffany."
"Hi, Tiffany," I replied with a smile. "How did you get here? Where are your parents?"
Tiffany sniffed, and tears welled up in her eyes. I began panicking and fumbling over her. "Oh, no. Don't cry. Everything will be okay. My friend is already looking for your parents. We will find them in no time."
That made her cry even more. "I'm so sorry!" She said as she sobbed.
With no idea how to comfort her, I settled on patting her head. "You did nothing wrong, Tiffany. You don't have to apologize."
It did nothing except further aggravating her.
"Mommy will be so mad at me!" She screamed and cried harder.
I'm at a loss. A kid was crying in front of me, and I didn't know what to do. Was there a guidebook for this kind of thing? This was why I stuck to the Sims game. Real-life kids were an enigma.
"Please don't cry, Tiffany," I helplessly repeated. "Come on, Tiffa-"
Tiffany. Tiffa... teapot?
The idea was far-fetched and stupid, but I'm out of options. I cleared my throat and started singing.
"I'm a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, and here is my stout," I sang while playfully pointing at her arms as if she were the teapot. The song was working, and now she was looking at me like a suddenly grown two heads.
"I am little Tiffa, strong and brave. I will not cry, I will smile instead!"
I finished the song with a big goofy grin, and when Tiffa started laughing and clapping, I began tickling her so she would completely forget about her sobbing fit. I didn't know which one worked: the song, my voice, or the stupid expressions I was making. Nevertheless, what was important was that she wasn't crying anymore.
I am a freaking singer, damn it. If I couldn't entertain a single kid, I should probably quit my career.
Someone coughed behind us, and Tiffa and I both looked towards the source of the sound. It was Creed with an unamused expression on his face.
Well, judging from Tiffa's tearful eyes again, his expression was scarier for her.
"He's my friend I was talking about. He's looking for your parents, right, Creed?" I hurriedly say.
Creed glared at Tiffa, and the poor kid clung to me like I was her only lifeline.
I ruffled her hair and gave Creed a sharp look.
"Cut it, Creed. I just stopped her from sobbing, and you're going to make her cry again," I whisper-shouted to him.
Creed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Excellent performance, by the way. Ten out of ten would recommend."
I took a deep breath and tried to stop myself from punching him. It was his style, not mine.
"Have you found her parents?" I asked.
Creed sighed and shook his head. "The PA system is broken, and they're still fixing it. The roadies are already spreading the word, though."
I looked back at Tiffa, and her blue eyes met mine. She looked so scared, and I didn't have the heart to just leave her alone.
"If it's okay with you, you can hang out with us while they're searching for your parents," I said to her.
Tiffa smiled, but before she could answer, Creed was already barreling towards us.
"f*****g s**t, Keelan. You can't just-"
I gasped and covered Tiffa's ears. "Watch your words, Creed! We have a kid here!" I gave Tiffa an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he's a little brash. Don't mind him."
Tiffa pulled my sleeves and said, "Mommy says to say silly things instead of bad words."
"Your Mommy is right! We should follow her advice. What's the silly word you'll use as a replacement, Creed?"
Creed growled. "I'm not playing games with you."
"We should be role models for the younger generation," I insisted.
"The younger generation can kiss my ass."
"Creed!"
We held each other's gaze and after a tense silent conversation, Creed finally relented. He pursed his lips and gave Tiffa a blank look.
"Fuc- Fran... Franken Shi- Franken... Frankenpoop," Creed said in stutter.
Tiffa began laughing uncontrollably after hearing the word, and she started repeating it nonstop.
"Well, Frankenpoop, Keelan. My point still stands that you can't bring her with us," Creed continued as his voice battled with Tiffa's peels of laughter.
"We can't just leave her here," I said. I didn't wait for his reply and just ushered Tiffa towards our private room.
"Let's go, Tiffa. We'll play until your parents come and fetch you," I said to her.
Tiffa held my hand and we entered the room, but not before I heard Creed's voice in the background. "You're going to regret this, Keelan."
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