Pregnant by Mr. Rockstar

Chapter 3: Stefanie Meyer

"Turn off the lights once you're done, Stefanie," Mr. Simmons, our head chef, said before leaving me to my devices.

After nodding my head, I turned back to the task at hand and continued washing the dishes. My encounter with Keelan left me in shambles, and I came up with an excuse to hole up in the kitchen instead, so there would be no chance of our paths crossing again. Mr. Simmons switched me to cleaning duty, and I was more than happy to oblige.

Out of all the singers that could be on this tour, why did it have to be him? I was so out of touch with the music industry after that disaster of a night that I had no idea how his career had been going. If I had only known, I wouldn't have accepted the job.

No, that's a lie. I'm neck-deep in debt, and Tiffa needed to go back to school sooner rather than later. Bringing her here gave me an excuse, but in reality, she's behind a year because we were out of money. Add to that our necessities and my meds. The job was a godsend.

I wrung my hands and closed the tap. Two sets of food packages were prepared to go on the table. Although the contract stated that only transportation and lodgings would be handled by the company, Mr. Simmons still went beyond and cooked some food for Tiffa. I made sure to remember to thank him later and work harder.

The night was young, but the frigid air made my teeth clatter as I stepped out of the makeshift kitchen. By tomorrow morning, the tent would be disassembled, and then we would be on our way towards the first concert venue. I turned off the lights, locked the door behind me, and went back to our bus.

Our bunker was larger than the others, but with the two of us sharing the space, it was cramped. There's a single, moderate-sized bed with white sheets, two pillows, and a blanket. Overhead, a cabinet was placed where we could store our belongings. A thin matte partition separates us from the rest of the bus.

Tiffa was lying on the bed with her hands up, holding the worn-out teddy bear I bought for her second birthday. I've always wanted to buy her a new one. With my salary, I think I could finally afford it and give it to her as a holiday present.

"Tiffa, are you hungry? I brought dinner," I said as I scooted over to the bed. My daughter immediately sat up and reached for the food. I opened my food and watched her as she eagerly dug in.

"Mommy, I'm bored. Can I go out tomorrow? I don't want to stay here all day," Tiffany whined in between bites.

I bit my lip in worry because I didn't know how the others would react when they saw a child wandering around the work area. However, I was already thankful enough that she stayed here for a whole eight hours.

"Mommy will be working again tomorrow, but we can walk around before and after my shift, okay?" I said and playfully pinched her cheeks.

Tiffa giggled and took another large bite from her chicken. "Can I also play outside? I promise to behave and stay in one place."

When she's so polite, it was hard not to agree. In the end, I somewhat agreed with her request. "I'll see if we can do that."

Tiffa and I went to bed early afterward, her fast asleep, while my mind was still filled with images of blue eyes and tattoo lines.

***

The first venue was a large concert dome with rows upon rows of benches and top-of-the-line entertainment equipment. Rumors said that the tour's tickets were sold out, which meant that once night fell, this area would be overflowing with people and festivities.

I gripped Tiffa's hand, and we walked towards the designated kitchen area in the venue. This time, the room was made for cooking, complete with all the needed appliances and tools. Mr. Simmons was already manning the stoves.

Pushing Tiffa behind me, I greeted our head chef. "Evening, Mr. Simmons. Do you need any help?"

It was still a good three hours until the start of my shift, but offering my assistance would be a good impression. Besides, it was the polite thing to do. We were not short-staffed, but we would eventually feel the rush of the event.

Mr. Simmons was about to answer me when he took notice of Tiffa. For a beat, I was afraid that he would send her away. It was not advisable to bring children into the work area, especially the kitchen. However, I should have known that he wouldn't do anything bad. Mr. Simmons could easily have been a doting grandfather with his almost white hair and kind, old face.

"Is she your daughter? I heard from Lydia that a staff will be bringing her child with her," Mr. Simmons said.

"Yes," I replied, then brought Tiffa in front of me. "Say hi, Tiffa."

Tiffa shyly waved at Mr. Simmons. "Hi. Um, my name is Tiffany."

Mr. Simmons smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you, little lady."

I kneeled and patted Tiffa's head. "Mommy is going to work now. I'll walk you back to our bus. I'll be back after my shift."

"You don't have to do that," Mr. Simmons said before I could leave with Tiffa. "Your daughter can stay here with us."

"We don't want to be a bother, sir. She might get in the way even if she doesn't mean to."

"Lydia allowed her to be on the tour. I'm sure she's well-behaved enough to be in the kitchen, isn't that right?"

Tiffa, to my complete embarrassment, enthusiastically said yes, her earlier shyness forgotten. "Please, Mommy?"

I sighed but relented. "Alright. But make sure you won't cause any trouble."

Mr. Simmons let me settle Tiffa, and I led her to a corner. It was far enough that she wouldn't disrupt the workflow and, at the same time, near enough that I could keep an eye on her with just a slight turn of my head.

I left Tiffa and proceeded to help Mr. Simmons with the food preparation. Work gradually pulled my attention, and I was naïve enough to get complacent with the routine tasks, oblivious to the impending misfortune.

When we had a break from the constant dicing and chopping of vegetables, I went towards the corner where I left Tiffa. More staff had been going in and out of the kitchen, and the venue was gradually being filled with concert-goers. Too many people in one place, and one unattended child. I should have seen this problem from miles away.

Peeking at the lone bench where Tiffa should have been, my heart almost leaped up to my throat when I saw that it was empty. No signs of my daughter or anything. I tried searching other areas near us where she might go, but there was still no sight of her.

I immediately called Mr. Simmons, and he came running to me when he heard my panicked voice.

"What's wrong?"

I hugged myself and looked back at our head chef with bewildered eyes. "Tiffa is missing."