Sequel: My Teenage Romance ›
Status: Completed
Rock Star Father
Randomness.
Ten minutes later, Celeste came down the stairs in a black top with net sleeves, “Jagged Pink” written in light pink, ragged letters with the same in dark glittery pink on top, embellished with dark pink, plastic gems, and plain black trousers, carrying two large beige-brown suitcases and a rucksack on her back.
“Wow.” Gerard breathed.
“What?” Celeste inquired.
“How can you carry everything you own down stairs like those and not lose your balance at least a bit, and how did you fit it all into just those two cases and a rucksack?!” Gerard seemed quite impressed.
“Not much stuff that cluttered my room was actually wanted, so not much of that is in here, and it takes years of practice to not fall on these stairs.” Celeste replied, putting her luggage down and wheeling it behind her. “Mel and Carrie said could we meet tomorrow at four. Is that okay?”
“Four’s great. Where are we meeting?”
“I said outside this house then maybe go somewhere, not saying where ‘cause I don’t know!”
“Celeste?” Patrick’s Irish brogue rang out from the kitchen.
“Hey Patrick.” Celeste replied, looking at her feet. “Umm… could you possibly maybe meet us outside the front door tomorrow at four? Please?”
Grinning Patrick hugged her and said,
“Of course, darlin’. Even if I’m only your adoptive brother.” Feeling slightly awkward Gerard cleared his throat noisily, which prompted Celeste to say,
“Oh, err…Pat; this is my dad, Gerard. Gee, this is my adoptive brother Patrick. I don’t know if you managed to meet the other night but you’re meeting now!”
“Hey.” Gerard greeted.
“Top o’ the morning to ya, guv!” Patrick beamed, Irish-ness oozing out of every pore in his body. “Now if ya’d be so kind as to let me go do me homework I’d be thankin’ ya kindly!” Celeste laughed and said,
“Later, Patrick. See ya tomorrow!”
“Wow. He’s so…Irish.” Gerard remarked.
“I know.” Celeste smiled.
“C’mon, let’s go meet the peoples I ‘work’ with.” Gerard declared, walking out of the house. “I left a note so your “adoptives” know what’s going on. I told the bus to wait just about….HERE!” Having followed him and turned the corner, Celeste saw the huge, black tour bus parked in front of them.
“You ready?” He asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She replied. Gerard stepped in, then turned and beckoned for her to follow. Stepping inside the bus, she saw the rest of the band gathered round a table near the door.
“Yay! Gerard got us a tour guide!” Frank Iero, one of the guitarists with his white-loafer-clad feet propped up on the table, yelled in his ordinarily low Belleville drawl.
“Correction; he got us a gothic tour guide.” Ray Toro, the other guitarist piped up in his high NJ burr. They looked at each other for a while then cheered again.
“No way! I can’t explain or be constantly happy and hyper.” Celeste cringed. A look of dawning comprehension came on their faces as Gerard said,
“Guys, this is Celeste, my daughter.”
“So this is not-so-mini Janet.” Frank sighed, moving up and motioning for Celeste to sit where he had been.
“She looks more like you Gerard. She’s got your eyes. The face says Janet was her mother though.” Matt Pelisser, the drummer commented, his voice bearing the same New Jersey accent they all did.
“So this is the long-lost niece I have you’ve been talking about.” Michael Way, bassist of My Chemical Romance and Gerard’s younger brother sighed.
“Dude, you’ve been here in England too long. You’re starting to sound British!” Bob Bryar, a friend and one of the best front-of-house sound guys in the world laughed. He, unlike the band, had a low Chicago tone in his voice.
Gerard introduced the rest of the band and Celeste did not argue, even though she knew exactly who everyone was as she was more of an obsessive fan than she had said. Bob was the only person she did not know.
“England’s cold.” Bob randomly stated.
“Wow, Bob, you’re so perceptive. ‘Course England’s cold we’re-” Celeste paused, sat down and searched her pockets. Pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil, she drew a circle on it and some islands. “-That far away from the Arctic Circle.” She held up her diagram, pointing to Britain. A very long, odd, enjoyable conversation started.
“Hey, I hear you and err... Melissa, I think, did well in some talent show at your school.” Gerard piped up randomly.
“What did you do?” Mikey (Michael) inquired.
“She sang this random song I wrote and I played drums.” Celeste said bashfully, looking at her shoes. Everyone “Ahh”-ed. “Hey, Matt, me and you are like Frank and Billie-Joe Armstrong.” Celeste piped up.
“HOW???!!!” Everyone was confused.
“Well, Frank learned to play guitar by imitating him, and I learnt to play drums by imitating you. Oddly, ‘cause of that, I start playing one of your songs every time I muck around with them!” Again Celeste ended staring at her shoes.
“Glad I could help!” Matt laughed.
“Anyone here know why tomatoes are red?” Mikey asked off-topic-ly. Celeste launched into the scientific reason, and then explained her own theory about how it was the result of so much blood-shed over the years, which traveled into the soil and was the cause of it.
“Wow. That was a great theory! Somewhat disgusting, but still, a great theory!” Frank laughed.
“Thanks, Frankie.”
“Celeste seemingly finds her shoes very interesting……” Bob trailed off, making Celeste blush.
“Guys, don’t tease her!” Gerard was uncharacteristically responsible.
“Oh no, I don’t want a responsible, overprotective dad!” Celeste sighed.
“Fine then. Guys, tease her mercilessly!” Gerard grinned.
“That’s not what I- oh forget it.” Celeste sighed, waving her hand.
“You are so British!” Bob laughed.
“On a more important note-” Gerard began but was interrupted by Celeste who said,
“I don’t know what your hair looks like in a ponytail, so don’t ask!” She received confused looks but did not explain.
“As I was saying, on a more important note, you’ll be living in the bus with us. Your uh… bunk-bed-thing’s over there at the back. Just thought I’d warn you, we live like animals in here!” He finished.
“’Kay then. And I can be a bit of a slob at times myself, actually.” Celeste looked over at the back of the bus, and saw a neatly made bunk, which would soon be nicely messed up. “Cool transportation/living space. Anyone here know what a ‘nomad’ is?” she added. Mikey explained and a conversation about Wales and glowsticks ensued. Well, these are some of the most random people on the face of the Earth.
“Wow.” Gerard breathed.
“What?” Celeste inquired.
“How can you carry everything you own down stairs like those and not lose your balance at least a bit, and how did you fit it all into just those two cases and a rucksack?!” Gerard seemed quite impressed.
“Not much stuff that cluttered my room was actually wanted, so not much of that is in here, and it takes years of practice to not fall on these stairs.” Celeste replied, putting her luggage down and wheeling it behind her. “Mel and Carrie said could we meet tomorrow at four. Is that okay?”
“Four’s great. Where are we meeting?”
“I said outside this house then maybe go somewhere, not saying where ‘cause I don’t know!”
“Celeste?” Patrick’s Irish brogue rang out from the kitchen.
“Hey Patrick.” Celeste replied, looking at her feet. “Umm… could you possibly maybe meet us outside the front door tomorrow at four? Please?”
Grinning Patrick hugged her and said,
“Of course, darlin’. Even if I’m only your adoptive brother.” Feeling slightly awkward Gerard cleared his throat noisily, which prompted Celeste to say,
“Oh, err…Pat; this is my dad, Gerard. Gee, this is my adoptive brother Patrick. I don’t know if you managed to meet the other night but you’re meeting now!”
“Hey.” Gerard greeted.
“Top o’ the morning to ya, guv!” Patrick beamed, Irish-ness oozing out of every pore in his body. “Now if ya’d be so kind as to let me go do me homework I’d be thankin’ ya kindly!” Celeste laughed and said,
“Later, Patrick. See ya tomorrow!”
“Wow. He’s so…Irish.” Gerard remarked.
“I know.” Celeste smiled.
“C’mon, let’s go meet the peoples I ‘work’ with.” Gerard declared, walking out of the house. “I left a note so your “adoptives” know what’s going on. I told the bus to wait just about….HERE!” Having followed him and turned the corner, Celeste saw the huge, black tour bus parked in front of them.
“You ready?” He asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She replied. Gerard stepped in, then turned and beckoned for her to follow. Stepping inside the bus, she saw the rest of the band gathered round a table near the door.
“Yay! Gerard got us a tour guide!” Frank Iero, one of the guitarists with his white-loafer-clad feet propped up on the table, yelled in his ordinarily low Belleville drawl.
“Correction; he got us a gothic tour guide.” Ray Toro, the other guitarist piped up in his high NJ burr. They looked at each other for a while then cheered again.
“No way! I can’t explain or be constantly happy and hyper.” Celeste cringed. A look of dawning comprehension came on their faces as Gerard said,
“Guys, this is Celeste, my daughter.”
“So this is not-so-mini Janet.” Frank sighed, moving up and motioning for Celeste to sit where he had been.
“She looks more like you Gerard. She’s got your eyes. The face says Janet was her mother though.” Matt Pelisser, the drummer commented, his voice bearing the same New Jersey accent they all did.
“So this is the long-lost niece I have you’ve been talking about.” Michael Way, bassist of My Chemical Romance and Gerard’s younger brother sighed.
“Dude, you’ve been here in England too long. You’re starting to sound British!” Bob Bryar, a friend and one of the best front-of-house sound guys in the world laughed. He, unlike the band, had a low Chicago tone in his voice.
Gerard introduced the rest of the band and Celeste did not argue, even though she knew exactly who everyone was as she was more of an obsessive fan than she had said. Bob was the only person she did not know.
“England’s cold.” Bob randomly stated.
“Wow, Bob, you’re so perceptive. ‘Course England’s cold we’re-” Celeste paused, sat down and searched her pockets. Pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil, she drew a circle on it and some islands. “-That far away from the Arctic Circle.” She held up her diagram, pointing to Britain. A very long, odd, enjoyable conversation started.
“Hey, I hear you and err... Melissa, I think, did well in some talent show at your school.” Gerard piped up randomly.
“What did you do?” Mikey (Michael) inquired.
“She sang this random song I wrote and I played drums.” Celeste said bashfully, looking at her shoes. Everyone “Ahh”-ed. “Hey, Matt, me and you are like Frank and Billie-Joe Armstrong.” Celeste piped up.
“HOW???!!!” Everyone was confused.
“Well, Frank learned to play guitar by imitating him, and I learnt to play drums by imitating you. Oddly, ‘cause of that, I start playing one of your songs every time I muck around with them!” Again Celeste ended staring at her shoes.
“Glad I could help!” Matt laughed.
“Anyone here know why tomatoes are red?” Mikey asked off-topic-ly. Celeste launched into the scientific reason, and then explained her own theory about how it was the result of so much blood-shed over the years, which traveled into the soil and was the cause of it.
“Wow. That was a great theory! Somewhat disgusting, but still, a great theory!” Frank laughed.
“Thanks, Frankie.”
“Celeste seemingly finds her shoes very interesting……” Bob trailed off, making Celeste blush.
“Guys, don’t tease her!” Gerard was uncharacteristically responsible.
“Oh no, I don’t want a responsible, overprotective dad!” Celeste sighed.
“Fine then. Guys, tease her mercilessly!” Gerard grinned.
“That’s not what I- oh forget it.” Celeste sighed, waving her hand.
“You are so British!” Bob laughed.
“On a more important note-” Gerard began but was interrupted by Celeste who said,
“I don’t know what your hair looks like in a ponytail, so don’t ask!” She received confused looks but did not explain.
“As I was saying, on a more important note, you’ll be living in the bus with us. Your uh… bunk-bed-thing’s over there at the back. Just thought I’d warn you, we live like animals in here!” He finished.
“’Kay then. And I can be a bit of a slob at times myself, actually.” Celeste looked over at the back of the bus, and saw a neatly made bunk, which would soon be nicely messed up. “Cool transportation/living space. Anyone here know what a ‘nomad’ is?” she added. Mikey explained and a conversation about Wales and glowsticks ensued. Well, these are some of the most random people on the face of the Earth.