Chapter One: Carry On, Wayward Son
DISCLAIMER: I own the made up characters. I do not own Drake & Josh.
Author's Note: Alright, this is an idea I've been toying with in my head for a few weeks. Since, I'm finished school on Thursday; I'm going to write it as a little graduation present to myself. However, I want to write it with a lot of substance and different plot lines and layers, most of my stories are one dimensional and I want this to turn out lengthy and meaty. Yes, meaty! So, all the feedback in the world is going to be hugely appreciated it. Also, this story may move slowly, I'm not too sure yet.
Thanks you guys!
Enjoy!
PS. I really do like Drake; I know he always seems to be the tattered one in my stories. I love him, though, just as much as I do Josh.
The possibility of the radio being right burnt Drake like the cigarette ash he'd accidentally burnt his tongue on. He'd been listening so intently to the radio DJ, he forget to toss the end of his cigarette out of the cab window.
"Hey man," He hooked one hand over the empty front seat of the taxi and caught the driver's attention. "Can you change this or something, please?" As soon as he driver nodded in agreement, Drake Parker of Drake Parker and the Twilight slouched back down in his seat.
Just like he had requested, the station switched and suddenly, his favorite Kansas song was playing. Still, he couldn't shake what the deejay had said.
Had Drake been used by his last girlfriend? Jennifer had drenched him in debt in a matter of months. After selling off his house in Los Angeles, his apartment in New York, and beach house in Cabo, he still didn't have enough to pull his head above water. He auctioned off all six of his sport's car, but that only made a dent. He couldn't bear the thought of parting with any of his guitars, sixty two in total. As the amount of debt increased, Drake found the press closing in on him and catching snapshots of his every move.
He should've known not to trust that guy off of Avenue B. Drake had been buying his blow and other necessities from Vinn for two years. Vinn was very professional about the way he ran his business; he'd meet Drake in nice five star restaurants or the lounges of regal hotels. This guy, Bug, had sent Drake a cryptic message on a napkin after he opened for The Dirty Brothers.
It all happened like sheet lightening on a hot summer night. He'd wandered off stage after what the Village Voice called his career's most defining performance to drive in his beautiful blue 1977 MG Roadster over to Alphabet City to meet this shifty character.
At first glance, Bug was just a scrawny cokehead. He looked no older than sixteen, drowning in his exco jeans and tattered XXL hoodie. The night sky was charcoal above them, nothing else. Drake had the cash in his hand while he watched Bug reach into his pants for his order and just like that, crash, lights blinded them from all angles and muffled voices Drake could barely understand what they were shouting.
He'd relived the moment he got busted all through out his seven months in rehab. Never once did he worry about his career, look at all the celebrities who'd entered Promises and other rehabilitation centers, they emerged with hundreds of movie offers and endorsement deals. One of Drake's best friends, Jesse Metcalfe, went away in March to beat his issue with alcohol and had been busy with television spots ever since.
Baffled was all Drake was when Island Def Jam dropped his band, when the upcoming Drew Barrymore comedy didn't want to use his song anymore, Freshjive Clothing replaced him with Tom Welling, and Jennifer was dating an A&F model. He couldn't afford money to rent an apartment anywhere.
With one suitcase and his collection of hand crafted, state of the art, guitars, he headed back to a place that he had no use for anymore: Home.
X
"You couldn't have picked me up from the airport?" Drake said before hocking a huge wad of spit out of his mouth and onto the cement. He closed the cab door behind him and stared at his little sister, who was no longer little.
He knew he should've said something else – anything else, but it had been two years and seven months since they'd seen one another. He knew that the polite thing to do would be to thank her for letting him crash at her apartment for a little bit, but he was angry at himself, unconsciously, for not keeping in touch. He couldn't believe that he let his fame and his beef with Josh take him away from his family and friends back home.
"And you could've said nope to dope, but here we are." Megan rolled her eyes while watching her brother search his wallet for even a single dollar bill to tip his driver with. "I got it." She charged foreword, pulling a few bills from the pocket of her shorts.
"No, it's fine." Drake said sharply. He was very sennesitive about his novel financial situation. Still, he could dig through his wallet for days. He was broke. "Thanks." He finally brought his head up and took a good look at Megan while she paid the cab driver and picked up Drake's suitcase. Drake took his one guitar case and followed her up the fire escape of her building.
Megan was still as pretty as she had been as a kid. Her skin was barely tanned, just grazed by natural sunlight, but it made her eyes pop darker than they actually were. Drake liked that she wore no make up, just a little chap stick. He always dated and fucked the girls who had a million colors on, but no actual faces. His sister was real though – she had an aura, a personality, and unlike all those girls, she was ambitious. She was working through University on her own dime to get into medical school.
"I don't plan to crash here for long, Meg." He said while ducking down and entering through a window. "And I won't bother you."
"Whatever." Megan dropped his suitcase on her loveseat. "It's a pull out." She told him and then sat down on top of it.
"Where's Felicia?" He looked around the half decorated apartment. Megan and her partner, who Drake had never met, were too busy with school and part time jobs as candy stripers to make Martha Stewart proud with their interior decorating skills.
"She's taking a night class." Megan picked at the dirt under her nails, not looking up to look at her brother. To her, it felt more like a washed up rock star was standing in her living room, not her older brother. She didn't know him anymore; she just bought his MP3's off the internet and watched his interviews on TV.
"And you're not?" He always knew Megan to be an academic junkie.
"No, I'm not. Somebody had to be here to let you in." She pointed out the obvious, but that wasn't why she didn't enroll in the class. She had to pick up extra shifts at the hospital to pay for her half of rent. Felicia was lucky; her parents were paying her way through school. "Do you want something to drink?"
"No, thanks." Drake shook his head and finally made himself comfortable in a reclining chair adjacent from where she sat. "Where are my guitars?" He asked, a little worried they got lost on their way from New York to San Diego.
"Drake," Her voice thickened and she pulled her eyes up to stare at him with a stale kind of look in her eyes. "This is a one bedroom place. There's hardly enough room for groceries, let alone sixty one of your guitars."
"Are they at Josh's?" He leaned foreword quickly and asked very hopefully. Megan just burst into a fit of laughter.
"Yeah, right." She couldn't believe Drake would be so delusional. He got the point from her laughter, though; clearly his guitars weren't with Josh.
"Josh stills wants nothing to do with me?" He couldn't believe it. It had been two years and seven months; he apologized via email everyday for the first month. He figured all Josh needed was time, but nothing was going to be good enough. Drake had screwed up big time the last time he had come in to visit. The worst Thanksgiving the Nichols – Parker family had ever had together.
"Your guitars are at Mom and Dad's." Megan informed him and then got off the love seat to answer her phone that was ringing on the wall off the kitchen. "And I didn't even tell Josh you were coming back. I figured, you could just avoid him." She used the only suitable word. "Hello?" She reached her hand around the wall that separated the two rooms and answered the phone.
Drake didn't mean to hurt his brother. Josh was the only person in his life he wanted to make proud and have adore him. It didn't matter to Drake that he'd let down a league of fans, as long as Josh had his back. The chances of Josh applauding for Drake now were so slim; they were invisible to the human eye.
Drake had heard Josh had completely moved on with his life. He'd been promoted from an assistant to one of the top publishers at Ransom House, making him the youngest publisher in San Diego. He'd put out thirteen best sellers in the past year and he'd gotten married in a small church somewhere a year and half ago.
Drake wasn't invited, however. He didn't find out about it until weeks later when his mom e-mailed him the wedding picture.
Very slowly, Drake got up from the chair and walked at a snail's pace around Megan's room, trying to fit into his sister's new life by getting to know what she was interested in. The ledges were filled with books about science and medicine, textbooks, and the first novel Josh ever published. On top of the other mantle were pictures, most of them were of friends, two of Megan and Felicia smiling adoringly at the camera lens with their heads knocked together, a wedding picture of Josh, Megan, Josh's wife, Walter, and Audrey, and in the very back sat a picture of a teenage version of Drake, in a thin bronze frame, with hair that took less time to style and his first acoustic guitar in front of him. That kid would've made sense with the rest of the pictures, but the guy Drake was presently, felt completely out of place.
"Drake, I've got to take a shift for a friend at the hospital, can I trust you to be alone?" She asked, not because he hadn't been in San Diego for awhile, but because he was fresh from rehab and, she wasn't sure how his mental state was and she didn't want to come right out and ask.
"Yeah, that's fine. I think I might take a nap." He said while she pitter patted out of the kitchen and down the hall to her's and Felicia's bedroom to throw on clothing more appropriate for work.
"Sounds good. I guess, the flight was tiring." She yelled from her bedroom where she was pulling a pair of gaucho pants over her legs and searching her dresser for her name clip to put on her shirt.
"A little bit." Drake sighed. Truthfully, he'd been so terrified about coming home to face everybody that he went against his doctor at Promises wishes and took two Advil's to knock him out.
"Alright, well, take care. I'll be home by ten, but Felicia should be back around eight." Megan scurried to the door to slip off her flip flops and tie up a pair of Keds. "Bye!" She quickly waved before rushing out the door.
Drake watched the door with bored eyes, waiting to see the knob turn and lock. Instead, the door busted open and Megan ran over to where he was sitting in the recliner. She wrapped him in a sisterly hug and grinned.
"I missed you, boob." She whispered lovingly and then took off, leaving Drake alone in a brand new place with a big smile.
X
Megan was a fool if she really believed Drake would sit still and keep to himself inside an overheating apartment complex. Drake took a shower, changed into a short sleeved shirt, and helped himself to a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, but all that did was waste an hour and thirteen minutes for him.
The night was coming slowly to San Diego, the sun sat in the middle of the sky that was such a light blue it reminded Drake of a hotel at a Four Seasons he once stayed in while promoting his sophomore album, Kensington. He had named that album after a quiet and ritzy neighborhood in San Diego that, as a kid, he always wanted to live in.
Drake threw on the one pair of colorful Ray Ban's he was able to keep and wandered out to the streets of San Diego. He figured he hadn't been away that long, he could still manage to find his way around his home town. However, Megan and Felicia lived in the University Heights area, which Drake pretty new to.
University Heights was located between Hillcrest and North Park, which the rock star was very familiar with since he spent his early years growing up in Hillcrest. His feet dragged on the slightly busy streets and he brought himself to Adams Avenue. The heat was still pushing strong through out the city while the sky was losing its color and poetry.
He walked by retail store after retail store on Adams Avenue, watching his reflection staring mindlessly into the window's looking for something that was possible be unattainable for him: Happiness.
Still walking, Drake just stared at his shoes, black Converse shoes that he identified himself with, that used to own any street he could rush down with an entourage and starting chaos around him. He was ready to call it a night and turn around, Felicia would've been back by now, and he really wanted to meet the girl who had swept his sometimes heartless sister off her feet. In the pictures, Felicia had Rapunzel-like hair that was a stunning shade of dark blonde and lips that appeared as red as a homemade Valentine's card and very inviting.
He brought his head up to make sure he didn't run into any one of the couple's that treaded happily around him. That's when he saw it, the only thing that would really make him happy for miles.
The little ice cream shop struggled to make room for large group of faithful patrons who were willing to climb over the counter and scoop up their own ice cream. There was soft Italian music playing from the speakers, seventy five flavors to pick from, and pictures of family and customers all over the walls. Drake was sure he'd stumbled into heaven. He even saw an angel, the only G.G's Ice Cream employee without a yellow visor and cobalt blue apron on. She had her hair up in a high messy pony tail with strands falling down everywhere and long lashes that opened her round face right up. She had dark eye's like all the employee's, clearly family, and a smile that giggled before it fully formed. She was wearing a petite white sundress and gold ballet flats.
She was the kind of girl that Drake would cast in one of his music videos; if she just lost her gut.
"Tessa!" Different Italian accents, all equally as thick, shouted at her from behind the counter, pulling Drake's stare off of her.
"What are you doing?" A short man with two ice cream scoops in his hand approached the girl and got right up in her face, very displeased with what she was trying to do. "You shouldn't be climbing!"
"Tessa." Another man came up behind her, pulling her off the first step of the ladder by the waist. "What are you trying to do?" He asked her, nodding the old man away. "I'll get it for you."
"I was going to change the sign. We're not out of Tartuffo anymore."
The man's chest deeply sighed inward and then he shook his head.
"I'll do it." He walked in front of her and began to climb the steps of the silver work ladder.
"Frank." She rolled her eyes, holding the ladder steady.
"Tessa, go help customers." He looked down for a moment and pointed towards the counter.
Tessa dramatically pouted while pushing between two other employees and standing face to face with Drake.
"Welcome to G.G's, how can I help you?" Though she had just been shot down by fellow workers, she came across bubbly to Drake, with the kind of smile an ice cream store girl should have.
"Uh…" Drake was so shocked that he had made it through the crowd to the counter, that he went brain-dead for a second. "Uh, vanilla." He decided simply, looking down and into the freezer for a second.
"Just vanilla?" Clearly, Tessa wasn't very excited. Drake just nodded, looking around the place to try and feel comfortable in his home city. As out of place as he felt, he was pleased nobody had approached him for an autograph yet. "Small? Medium?"
"Small." He sniffed and told her.
"Cone or cup?"
"Uh, you choose." He shook his head.
"Plain, waffle, sugar, or dipped?"
"Do I have to fill out a fucking questionnaire before ordering?" He snarled with his eyes looking over the wall of photos. Somehow, the noise around him hushed after her spoke. Very slowly, he brought his face back to see a very surprised ice cream girl standing in front of him.
"I'm sorry." Meekly, she apologized to him. "It's just most people say what they want."
"No, sorry, I just…it's not you." He fixed a fake smile on his face. "You know, I think I'm fine actually."
"You don't want the vanilla?" Tessa was lost.
"No, thanks." Drake pushed his lips together and then made his way out of the ice cream store. Quietly, he sat alone on a yellow bench. A family of six sat on the bench next to him, laughing and sharing blizzards, and to his right was a couple feeding each other one single marshmallow sundae. If he had been close to happiness before, he'd suddenly crashed. He was failing at rejoining society and he knew it.
He sat alone on the bench for half an hour watching smiling children in their strollers drip chocolate down their faces, friends squeal and take pictures outside of GG's, families caught up, lovers loved, and dogs waited outside. Drake smiled over at them, feeling more alike to the animals then anybody else around him.
"Ah, thanks for picking me up!" Tessa's voice stood out above all the commotion outside the ice cream store. She was dressed as she had been behind the counter, but underneath the orange flickering street light she looked very familiar to Drake. He stood up and jogged closer to her, trying to get a better look. He was certain he'd seen her before, maybe they dated in high school, or had a strange drug-induced one night stand during his last stop in San Diego.
She wrapped one arm around the back of a tall and toned man, his skin a rich black color and smile only showing up at the sight of her. He was overdressed for such a hot summer night. Drake watched from behind a Honda as the guy opened his truck door for Tessa and didn't close it until she was all the way in.
Maybe, he was crazy.
Maybe, he was just so desperate to know someone in San Diego; he was trying to convince himself that he did. He was just about to turn around and walk home when he caught the ice cream angel staring at him from inside the truck, her eyes pulling him towards her and then wiping away.
He watched the truck drive away and figured out where he'd seen her before.
X
"I'm home!" He sang like the leading men in old television shows would when they burst through the doors after work.
He has promised that even with his new promotion that he would rarely work late and so far, he'd been very faithful to his word. He had just made a deal with a new author who was fresh from NYU and he had stayed late to negotiate income with the demanding young author.
Holding a bat in the air and above her shoulder, Tessa tip toed out of her bedroom and made her way to the doorway of her condo.
"Oh," She sighed and playfully brought the bat down. "It's just you." She covered her heart with her free hand and smiled, goofily. "I forgot I had a husband for a second and thought I was being robbed."
"Ha-ha." Josh shook his head and met his wife halfway to wrap her in a home. "I am late, I get it," His eyes rolled upwards. "No need for melodrama. I'm just happy Nash got you home safely."
Tessa giggled and held him holding her in the darkness of their condo before he reach to the side and flicked on the hallway light.
"Mmhmm," He moaned while kissing her. "You smell like vanilla."
"One of the perks of getting your high school job back." She laughed.
"I got you something." Josh walked over to where he'd taken off his work shoes and picked up a paper bag.
"Oh yeah, what?" Tessa followed after him and waited, watching him adoringly. She was so thrilled that he'd chosen her. They'd been married a year and half and so far, it had been everything Tessa was told to not believe in, including magic.
"O Magazine." He pulled out the latest issue with a glossy picture of a smiling Oprah Winfrey on the cover as it always did.
"Right on!" Tessa shot her hand up in the air and brought it down in a victorious manner. She took the magazine from her husband and read over the headlines. "Oh, I've been dying to know what neckline is best for my shape." She looked and him and joked. It was a tradition they started after three months of dating to buy the latest Oprah magazine and read it together in bed.
"You could wear anything with your new shape." He stepped close to her again with only a centimeter of space between them. He laid both his hands on the top of her ever-growing belly and very slowly slid them down. He loved everything about Tessa being pregnant. He loved how she looked, how it grew, what it mean, and what it would mean. The idea of being a father excited him more than it did worry him into a state of panic.
"Ugh, I'm starting to look like I just eat the ice cream, not serve it." She started to walk away into her kitchen and scoffed. She really didn't like being pregnant. Tessa was convinced all those magazine bitches were just liars in labels when they said they loved their bodies while pregnant. There was nothing enjoyable about stomach aches, kicking, stretch marks, and peeing out oceans a day.
"You look beautiful." Josh leaned against the pantry door and told her honestly. He was staring at her with shining eyes that were absolutely mesmerized. Interrupting, his sweet thoughts were the rumbling of his stomach.
"Hungry?" She laughed and ventured a guess.
"Yeah, I guess that apple at lunch didn't hack it." He tapped his stomach with one hand and wandered over to the fridge. The perk of being involved with a woman with only Italian blood, was the fridge was always stocked with rich and scrumptious food.
"There's left over butter and garlic penne in there and pomander sauce. I can make you some chicken to go with it, if you'd like."
"This is good. You just go rest." He grinned and patted her on the back. "I don't know if I like you working two jobs while pregnant."
"The kids graduate in a month. Then it'll just be GG's all summer." Tessa didn't have any problem balancing her teaching job in the morning and working at her parent's ice cream store during the nights. They needed extra money with the baby on the way.
"Or until you have the baby."
"I was thinking I'd just have it right there, actually, in the stock room."
"Yeah, your dad coaching from behind you."
"My mother and aunts badgering you to get this and that." The two laughed.
"It's going to be great." Josh honestly couldn't wait. The baby was expected August 7th. He'd made a countdown for it on his computer at work. "Go lay down, I'll be right there."
"Okay." She stopped right by him and brought his head down by his chin with two fingers to kiss her. Even when she stood up on her tip toes, she couldn't reach him.
"Don't start Oprah without me!" He called after her.
Tessa pulled off her white dress and put on silk shorts and a tank top, that her belly peeked out of completely, to sleep in under their thin red bed covers. She held the magazine against her chest as she climbed into the bed. She wondered while waiting for Josh to come to bed if she should tell him that she saw his brother in town.
She chose not to bring it up and just let everything continue to run as peacefully as it had been. If there didn't have to be a fight, she didn't want to make one.
READ AND REVIEW! Please.
I really want to know what you guys think.
Carry on, Wayward son – Kansas
Heart Of The Matter – Don Henley