My Drug, Intoxicated

Blake's P.O.V.

"What did you need again?" Jerry sighed.

"I told you two minutes ago. Will you drop me off at the book store so I can meet Danny Sike?" I cold chill ran up my back. Danny's dead. I shrugged the feeling away.

"Yeah, I guess so." I threw the playstation controller away from me. Stupid Final Fantasy. I'll never beat you. I grabbed my jacket from the back of our couch and fished my keys out of my pocket. "How long do you think it's going to take?" He shrugged, scratching his eyebrow.

"Depends how many people are there. I'll find out when we get there." We both left the apartment, heading downstairs to Dusty. We rode in silence for the next twenty minutes, a faint song playing in the backround. I pulled in front of the bulding, a huge crowd already there.

"Oh, wow. Sorry Blake, you want me to just call you when i'm done, it's obviously going to take a while?" I sighed.

"Yeah. Or, if it's too late, just go straight to the club, we'll bring your bass." He smiled at me.

"Okay, thanks man. I'll see you later then." He hopped out of the van, strolling over to the bookstore, book in hand. He turned back to wave, and I waved back as I pulled into traffic.

That waiting around better not wear him out before the show.

Danny's P.O.V.

I signed book after book, smiling widely at everyone who came up to me. I leaned forward, looking down the line. About thirty more people left to go. Oh, no wait, another man just joined the line, smiling widely, a book already in his hand. Thirty-one left to go.

The line slowly dwindled down as I made small talk, Jean clacking away on her computer behind me. Most of the people I signed for were housewives, who read everything on Oprah's List and it was the highlight of their week to come see me. Other's were brooding young adults, sometimes in the closet, sometimes not, telling me how much their book touched them. I once even had a man in a clown suit get his book signed to Scrappy, The Happy Clown. Can't be too happy if you're reading my book, eh?

Finally, the line made it to the last guy, a young man a little older than myself.

"Who do you want me to make it out to?" I scribbled a message into the book as he looked down at me. He smiled shyly.

"Jerry, please." He fiddled with his thumbs, looking like he was trying to say something. "Did you use real names in the book?" I looked up.

"Uh, sometimes. I kept some, changed others." He looked at me.

"Was Blake really his name?" I glanced back at Jean, who looked at me wide-eyed. She has never asked me that. I looked back up at him, smiling faintly.

"Yeah, it was. It's a nice name. isn't it? While writing the book, some name's were easily replacable in my mind, but every time I wrote about him," I shrugged. "I just couldn't bring myself to put someone else's name in the place of his." I don't know where this was coming from, I had never, ever, spilled this much to anyone public, whether it was a fan or an interviewer.

"Sorry to pry," he whispered softly. I shrugged.

"Don't be. Curiousity is a beautiful thing." He smiled.

"Do you like music?" I grinned.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Why do you ask?" He pulled a paper out of his back pocket, unfolding it. It looked like a flyer.

"My band is playing tonight. You should check us out. Maybe I could bring you backstage and we could talk more." He had a knowing smile on his face. I looked down at the flyer, and started laughing.

"This is fate. I was going to this show anyway." I handed the flyer back to him, but he pushed my hand away.

"Nah, keep it." I smiled at him, standing up. I put out my hand to shake his.

"It was really nice meeting you Jerry. Your friends must be lucky to know such a great person as you." He smiled.

"You have no idea."