Page 66 of Creed

We wandered from store to store, and it took us ‘til the fifth one—a grunge fashion type of store with more alternative and thrifty-looking outfits and accessories before her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She floated around the store and loaded up the basket I was carrying with items varying from ripped jeans to old band tees, tank tops, shirts so tiny they had to be considered lingerie, fishnet tights, goofy, graphic high rise socks, choker necklaces and a ton of other cute and edgy shit I don’t know how to pronounce.

A few hours later, my arms were loaded with bags for her and we had to make a trip out to the jeep to load it. I’d just shut the back hatch when her belly grumbled out loud, so here we are, sitting in the food court and I’m watching her eat a philly cheesesteak after eating one of my own and I once again find myself wondering where the hell she puts all that food in her tiny form.

“So how come Creed couldn’t come with?” She asks as she wipes her lips with a napkin and takes a sip from her giant grape soda.

“He has to go over some last minute details with Ayla and Steve, but he should be home by the time we’re done here.” I offer her a half-truth, hoping she doesn’t read that there’s more that I’m not telling her. Again, I don’t think she’d take kindly to Creed quitting her job for her.

She nods, accepting my answer and steals one of my French fries, dipping it in ranch before eating it. A girl after my own heart. She reaches for another one, so I slide the entire tray over to her side of the table with a smile as she grins really big and dives in like she didn’t just put a giant sandwich away like a champ.

She finishes the fries in record time and we walk lazily through the mall, just enjoying talking about everything and nothing. Getting to know Collins is quite the trip. She tells me her own side of the story of her brother and Creed gifting her with a polaroid and stationary, how she wrote them letters, and how she still prefers to capture images through the old camera, rather than her cell phone. I make a mental note to get more cartridges for her camera as we move on to the next store.

She also tells me about her obsession with David Bowie that started when she was little, and how Creed called her Stardust because of it. I can tell there’s more there, more I’d gathered from Creed’s reactions a few days ago. Shit she went through that she’s not ready to tell me yet, and that’s okay.

She’s so fucking happy right now and I won’t pry and bring down the good mood we’ve got going on. We pass what looks like a brand new music and instrument store and I don’t even have time to blink before Collins is dragging me through the doors. In the back corner display on a dais is a pristine DW five piece drum set. The stunning woman still holding my hand—which I try very hard to ignore the way it makes my heart pound—yanks me around the side where a sign is sitting on the stool that says, ‘see attendant for drumsticks to test the set’.

I look at Collins and raise an eyebrow at her. She bites her lip and my eyes automatically drop to her mouth before springing back up to her eyes. “I’ve listened to Dark Sins’ music since your first album, but I’ve never seen you perform.”

Both my brows shoot up now. “You want me to play for you?” I’m beyond flattered when she nods her head eagerly, bouncing on her toes as an attendant approaches with a set of drumsticks.

“You want a song to play along with?” the guy asks, holding up his phone that’s now attached to an aux cord.

The guy doesn’t recognize me but I’m not offended in the slightest. We took a risk by not taking security with us to the mall, but I’m the newest member of the band and not as well-known as Creed and Bear. Tony is more notorious and his face is recognized nearly everywhere he goes.

I look at Collins and she clears her throat. “Um, Riptide by Dark Sins?” she asks softly.

I smile wide and take a seat behind the drum set because Riptide is one of my favorite songs to play. It’s high-energy and upbeat. I had so much fun recording this song because I got to really show my skill with the varying beats and rhythms.

The song starts playing throughout the store speakers at a pretty loud volume and I don’t waste any time jumping in, drumming along with myself on the track. I get lost in the beat and my body loosens up, muscle memory taking over from performing this song countless times. I don’t pay attention to the lyrics but I can still hear Creed’s voice belting out the words.

The last time I played this was just over a week ago in Sydney, where a group of girls all threw their bras on stage. Creed had just picked up the sparkliest one, draped it over the turnkeys of his guitar and kept going. We’re used to the harassment by now.

I glance up from the drum set look up to see Collins watching me.

I didn’t know how she’d react to watching me play, but I’m a drummer, there’s only so much you can watch before you get bored. She’s sitting in a chair right in front of the drum set, her toned legs folded beneath her, and her hands braced between where her legs are crossed. Her head tilts to the side and instead of boredom in her eyes, I see awe and wonder.

Her jade eyes are bright as she watches me, every part of me. She tracks the movement of my hands as I pound between the drums and symbols, feeling the beat and matching the pattern I’d set in the song.

I close my eyes and power through the rest of the song and when the final notes ring out throughout the store, my chest heaves. Clapping and whistling startles me and when I open my eyes I see a crowd of people now swarming around the drum set, all of them chanting and cheering for me. I hear my name being called out by a few people in the small sea of onlookers.

They recognize me.

A few camera flashes go off and I smile before scanning the crowd for the only face that matters. I jump down off the dais when I don’t see Collins and begin to push my way through the crowd, plastering a smile and nodding a few thanks to people who try and grab my attention as I pass. My heart starts racing as panic sets in until I see a flash of that white hair of hers waiting for me at the back exit.

Little genius.

I rush towards her and grab her hand at the same time she throws a flowery hippie hat over my head and fucking cackles at how ridiculous I probably look, but I don’t care as long as it covers my face. I’m not bothered by tabloids, because I don’t do anything to get bad press—though it never stops them from trying—but I don’t want Collins to be thrown into a spotlight that she didn’t ask for, speculations made about her for being seen with me. It’s none of their business who she is to me.

We break into a sprint and head towards where my Jeep is parked in the sun in the back of the parking lot. The second we jump into the car, stare at each other, panting through the silence before bursting into heavy belly laughter. I’m absolutely mesmerized by the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, the way her nose scrunches, the sound of her voice and the way it cracks and disappears when she gets excited and her voice rises in pitch. I love the way she just glows with a happiness that wasn’t there a few days ago.

We get home and see Creed standing by the oven in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone. He looks up and smiles when he sees Collins but his brow furrows when he looks at me.

“What the hell are you wearing, Ri?” I look down at my usual attire and it's nothing new. Old black jeans and a band tee with my Vans.

Collins bursts out laughing again as she reaches up and yanks something off my head and plops it on her own. I’m assaulted with an array of vintage floral patches all over the top of this floppy denim hat. God, I completely forgot that she threw that hat on my head as we made a run for my Jeep.

I slap a hand over my chest, feigning hurt. “You let me drive all the way home with that monstrosity on my head? You injure me, Snow.” She rolls her eyes at me as I set the remaining bags down on the floor by the entrance to the living room and turn towards Creed. “On our way out of the mall, we stopped at a music store where I played one of our songs on the display drum set for Collins. No one really recognized me so I didn’t think anything of it. But I guess I drew a bit of a crowd anyway.”

Creed runs his fingers through his hair. “Well, that’s not the worst kind of exposure you can get. You were just playing music.”

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