Heyy! Well, damn, this one is a later update. I'M SORRY! I was away last weekend, shopping in Spokane for banquet/grad dresses (haha! I felt the need to say where I was since it's the place I made Kayle's parents live. I loled :p). Needless to say that I was successful, so excited! Anways... This chapter is... I dont even know how to explain. I can't believe where I'm heading with this. I'm a disturbed, I've realized.

And thanks everyone for the reviews! They always cheer me up :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Drake and Josh.


3 months ago, I was in a car, driving from San Diego to New York. I don't think we even stopped for the night. We only stopped when necessary, and not a moment longer. To me, it felt like only 5 minutes went by before we pulled up next to our new basement suite. I hate the word 'suite'. It just gives off the feeling of marriage, and lots of money for romantic getaways. I mean, I'm all up for romance, maybe it's just the guy in me coming out. The guy who hates the word 'suite'... wait... 'suite'... sweet... 'suite'... sweet, holy shizznat, they're the same word! Ahahha...

Anyways, getting back onto topic, I'm here... what's here? Well, I'll tell you. 'Here' is a freakishly huge mansion, even bigger and 100x more modern then Johnny's. I am sitting at an insannellyyy long wooden table, being waited on by girls with long curly hair in little black miniskirts. 'Here' is Kayle's bosses house on Christmas Eve's Eve, with a large group of Nasdaq workers.

Yes, that's right. It's December 23rd, my first ever Christmas with actual snow. No one can even begin to understand how excited I am.

Kayle can kind of tell, 'kind of' being the key word. "It's just snow. It's rain, frozen water. And it's cold. And when it gets to March, and you still have to shovel the driveway after school, you learn to hate it." He just doesn't understand! I haven't played in it yet. I haven't had a snowball fight, or made a snowman, or gone snowboarding, or had hot chocolate near a fire after shovelling! Kayle said that most of those things we'd do on Christmas Day, just to make it more special. But I want to play in it nowwww! It looks so white!

Obviously, living alone has not decreased my immaturity!

"Care for another glass of Dr. Fizz with Rye, Drake?" Vince Mortella, Kayle's Boss, asks me from the head of the head of the table. He looks like a tall, bald-headed Joe Pesci. Except larger. And he has a way deeper voice.

"Oh, I think I'm good Mr. Mortella, don't want to get too tipsy while here. I would hate to embarrass myself" I laugh.

Mr. Mortella gives a wide smile. "Ahh, don't worry about it, Drake! It's Christmas, and Christmas is the time to be cheery and make memories! Cynthia here would be more than happy to occupy you."

Cynthia, a tall girl with cherry blonde hair walks over to me, winking. "So, a Dr. Fizz with Rye, was it?" She asks, leaning down to my height. I turn to her, whispering "How about just a Dr. Fizz, no Rye. Just don't tell the boss man down there, kay?"

She gives a small smile. "It'll be our little secret." She lets her breast slide slowly against my shoulder, the smell of strawberries lingers as she walks away.

Somebody is desperate.

Kayle is on the opposite side of the table, facing me, and is currently playing footsies with my left foot. He saw the entire interaction between me and Cynthia, and is trying his best to not die from laughter.

It is almost Christmas, so of course there would be Christmas songs, blasting from the stereo for background entertainment.

Looking at the large plate of food in front of me, a perfectly cooked turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce, corn and everything else that can be defined as Christmasy, I can't help but wonder about my own family. I promised Megan that I'd be home for Christmas. I wonder how Middle School is going for her. Does she have a boyfriend?

I called home last week, wondering if I was allowed to visit during this 'Very Happy Holiday'. I left a message with my number, but no one ever phoned back. Maybe they will on Christmas Day? I hope so, I miss them.

I wonder if Josh is with them. I wonder if Josh is still with Mindy. How's Yale? What courses is he taking. How is his roommate? Does he have a roommate? Is he the top of his class, like I thought he would be. I miss him. He's my step-brother... who claims he's in love with me... Let's forget that. He's still my brother.

"Here's your Dr. Fizz with Rye, Mr. Parker." Cynthia has returned with my drink, and I can see that she seems to have more lip gloss on then when she left. And her button up blouse has been unbuttoned by two. The 'two' were restraining her voluptuous breasts from our sights. 'Were' being the keyword. Hmm, it's a black bra, and lacey...

Yup, she's desperate.

"Thank you very much, Cynthia." I say, trying to act nonchalant.

"No, thank you, Mr. Parker." She bats her long, blackened eye-lashes at me once more. A year ago, this type of thing would have been the biggest turn on. Now? ... Not so much. It's still hot, I just don't want to be the one to knock off her desperation.

"Ahhh, I see Cynthia has taken a liking to you, Drake!" Mr. Mortella shouts from the end.

"So you noticed too!" I retort. Cynthia acts unfazed by this and gives a loud giggle, blaring her bleached white teeth to all.

Everyone, with a large amount of alcohol in their systems, begins to laugh at my comment.

Yes, it is Christmas. A time to be cheery and make memories.


"So, Drake-" Mr. Mortella begins. All the other guests and household staff have left. Including Cynthia, Thank god.

Kayle is currently on the large, leather couch, falling asleep... Actually, I think passing out would be a better word.

"Poor guy, it was a stressful week at work." Mr. Mortella explains. I just nod my head. It was definitely a stressful week. Apparently, most of the stocks that Kayle invested our money into all went down. We lost a lot of money. I don't know exactly how much, though.

Mr. Mortella seems to senses my oncoming anxiety at the thought of having no money, so he switches the subject. "You're a musician, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Any albums, or upcoming albums that I should know about?" He grabs his glass of scotch from a small maple table beside him and inhales it all in one gulp.

"Actually my Debut Album came out on December 15th. It's doing okay. Not too great, but not too horrible as well. All I care about is that, hey, at least I'm finally making some money." I say, clasping my hands together.

"What? Does Kayle not make well enough for the both of you?"

"Kayle? He makes way too much for the both of us. But, I feel bad using his money all the time. I think that I need to be somewhat independent, right?"

Mr. Mortella just smiles.

A groaning can be heard from the leather couch. Kayle begins to twitch slightly, before turning around, pressing himself more into the couch for warmth.

"Mmmph... Mafeeble kayy, nay do! Ta haaa..." Kayle mumbles and laughs. I swear, that boy was never supposed to speak English.

"How about we give Kayle here some privacy." It's not really a question but more of a command as Mr. Mortella stands up.

"How about I show you the house?"


We walk up the large staircase and enter Mr. Mortella's master bedroom, where he grabs himself another glass of scotch and takes a seat on a small couch.

"Listen, Drake, I know Kayle. I have ever since he was a boy. Me and his Uncle Dave are best friends, have been ever since business school. Sure, Dave can be a douche when he's going all boss on me, but he's still my best friend. Since Kayle means a lot to Dave, I make sure to look after Kayle, as well as his interests, which at the moment, is you."

I nod, walking over to a small chair in the corner. Instead of answering, I just sit down and listen.

"As I said, this week was not a good week for the stock markets. Everyone who's anyone lost a little bit of money. Kayle, unfortunately isn't anyone. As you probably know, he lost a lot. I want to help him. So, I'm giving you an offer."

There is a slight lustful tone in his voice, but I choose to ignore it. "An offer?" I ask incredulously.

"A job offer, to be more exact. You need money, am I correct?" We are in desperate need of money. I don't know how much we need, all I know is that we need money, but then again, who doesn't? Along with his lustful tone, a glimmer emerges in his eyes. It's small, but there. It's creeping me out.

"What kind of job offer, Mr. Mortella?" I inquire.

"Well, Drake, I'll be frank with you-" ... I really wish I knew what 'frank' meant.

"-You are a very good looking boy. I know many, many people who would love to have you for a couple of hours."

My breath is pushed out of my body by an invisible force. "What ... exactly... do .. you mean by that?" My voice trembles along with my chin. Please don't let this be what I think it is. Please don't let this be what I think it is.

"Well, I mean, there are those types of men who are not... hmmm, how should I put this... 'pleased' by their partners, and need to find an outlet by paying an incredibly attractive youth such as yourself."

I jump out of my seat as soon as these words hit my ears.

"You want me to sell my body?"

"People would be willing to pay a lot." Mr. Mortella walks to the other side of the room. He touches a golden frame of a painted picture lovingly, before taking it down completely. I can see that hiding behind it is a silver safe. With his chubby hands, he begins to turn to lock.

Click... Click...

...

Click...

He opens it swiftly, bringing out a large stack of cash. He looks psychotic, eyes wide and pupils dilated, while looking over the money. Closing the safe, he walks over to me, and pushes the cash towards my chest. I take it, trying to ignore how heavy it is.

As its within my grasp, I can see that all of the bills are fifties.

"That is 5,000$, Drake. All of it can be yours, if you take my offer." He says. Grinning once again.

"... I won't do it, Mr. Mortella. I... I can't. No way!" I drop the pile of cash on the floor and head to the door, little meaningless papers flying everwhere.

"Too bad, I know that Kayle is desperate for money. From what I heard, you lost all of the money he made just 2 days before this month's rent needed to be in. If you don't get it in before January 1st, you're going to be evicted."

I stop immediately, my hand clenching on the door handle, turning it white.

"We handed in this months' rent. I have no idea what you're talking about." I say. Truthfully, I don't think it's any of his god damn business, either, if we handed in our rent late or not.

"Too bad. Too bad. Just ask Kayle, maybe he'll know." Vince beings to laugh menacingly. It's the type of laugh that'll haunt you in your nightmares long after you're dead. I leave the door open as I fly down the stairs, escaping that god awful room.

What has this world come to?

I reach the living room, where Kayle is snoring loud enough to wake the hibernating bears.

"Kayle! Kayle, it's time to go." Grabbing his shoulders I begin to shake him as hard as I can.

"Come on, Kayle. Wake-" I lift palm in the air. "Up!" And I let it slide harshly across his face.

"I-uh-I... Wha.. OWWWW! Jesus Christ, Drake! What the hell! Wa-was I asleep?" He asks, a hand on the reddening mark on his face.

"Umm, ya. You were having a nightmare, Kayle." I lie to him. His head turns to me and I can see comprehension in his eyes. "Ohh..."

"It's late, maybe we should go home. Mr. Mortella is already in bed." I say again, grabbing Kayle's arm and lifting him off the couch

"Drake, I told you. Call him Vince."

"Okay then, Vince is already in bed. It's 2 am in the morning, and I'm really tired. So let's go!" I say just a little too loudly.

"... Drake, are you alright?" Kayle stops us just as we reach the large door way.

Without turning around, I just say that I'm completely fine, and that I must be buzzed or something from the alcohol.

Kayle sighs, grabbing his jacket.

"Thanks Vince for dinner! Have a good Christmas!" Kayle yells towards the staircase. The sound of his voice being so kind sickens me.

I turn and just stare at him, stunned.

"What? I have to thank him! He invited us for dinner! It would be rude just to leave!" Kayle laughs, grabbing my arm, finally allowing us to leave the mansion.


When we walk into our basement suite, Kayle lunges for the couch.

It's a tiny space, but perfect for two people. As soon as you walk in, you're in the living room, which has a small T.V, a table, one chair, Kayle's couch from the 1970's, and a very ugly blue rug on the floor. After that is the kitchen. Normal, white. The fridge is too small, though. Beyond that, is a hall which holds a closet for the vacuum, the bathroom, and the bedroom is at the far end. See, pretty small... It is definitely not worth 1,300$ a month.

"... umm, Kayle? I need to ask you something." After what Vince Mortella said about us not getting our rent in, I'm wondering. Last month was my turn to put our money in. This month was Kayle's turn. So, I don't actually know if Mr. Mortella was lying or not.

"Mmmph, ya, Drake?"

"... Vince said that we're going to get evicted because the stocks went down two days before the rent was due..." I take a deep breath, hoping that the truth is what I wish to hear.

"Is that true?" Tension fills the air almost immediately. I can feel sweat beginning to form on my forehead. This is not going to be good.

Kayle takes a deep breath, and lifts himself into a sitting position. His hands are clutched together, and placed neatly on his knees.

"Maybe you should sit down, Drake."

"It's true, isn't it?"

Kayle doesn't answer, he just turns his head away.

"...well, what about the money from my album? Maybe we could use that!"

"... It's gone, Drake."

"What?" I yell. Luckily, the people above us consistently watch gory films, and play loud, violent war games. They can never hear anything me and Kayle do. It means we can be as loud as we want, whenever we want.

"What little money you got from your album is already gone. I used it in the stocks."

My legs are becoming jelly beneath my weight. Kayle was right, I do need to sit down.

"I'm sorry..."

I sit on the floor due to my trembling. "... how much money do we have left?"

"... 200 bucks."

I have no idea of how to respond. Do I act nice, even though I'm seething? Do I get angry and yell, showing him that I'm seething? Although if I do that, that might only end badly for me...

"So, we're going to get evicted?" I ask, scared at the thought of having no home for a while during the winter months.

"Unless we can magically make 1,500$ appear, we are screwed."

My hand runs through my hair, and loud sigh escapes my lips. "... Why do we need an extra 200 dollars, Kayle?" I ask, trying to get my thoughts anywhere other than the possibility of being homeless.

"We need to eat, Drake. You might be gaining, but I'm losing weight like fuck."

... What the... Is he seriously talking about my weight now?

"Kayle!" I yell. "I haven't fucking gained. I've actually lost as well since we started living here. 7 pounds to be exact. Why is that even an issue?"

"Wow, Drake. Keeping a record of your weight now? You're really turning into a girl. Next thing I know, I'll be sleeping with someone who has earrings, a belly button ring, and asking how their make-up looks or if that dress make their butt look big. Fuck! I need to sleep." Kayle spreads himself back onto the couch, completely exhausted.

"Fuck you, Kayle."

"Fuck me? Fuck you, Drake. You're the one who started talking!" He mumbles bitterly from underneath the sofa cushion.

"I started talking because we've lost money, and I didn't know how much. And then I find out that we're going to be evicted! When were you even going to tell me about this? And why the hell are you getting mad at me? It isn't even my fault. And I, for one, do not want to be lying out on the street while it's snowing!"

"Well, if you're so keen on not getting evicted, why don't you make yourself useful and get out there and make some money. Use your one talent, and get us money."

"My one talent? What the fuck, Kayle. How much have you had!"

"I just had 3 glasses of tequila."

"Jesus... And I have been using my 'one talent', you know that. Unfortunately all of the 'safe' bars and clubs are completely scheduled for the next few weeks." I scream in retort.

"I'm not talking about your music. I'm talking about your talent, or should I say hobby. Why don't you get out there and be the true slut that you really are. People can pay for that, y'know." He muffles tiredly yet again.

I take deep breath at what has just been said. I've been trying so hard to change. When I came to New York, I promised to change myself from "Drake Park – Man Whore" to "Drake Parker – Not Man Whore". Okay, I'll admit, it isn't the greatest title, but you get the idea, right?

And anyway, maybe it's just the alcohol talking? Kayle gets especially mean when he's had tequila. The comments don't hurt any less, though.

Shaking my head in my hands, anger is running through my system. When I'm angry, I do stupid things. For example, like what I think may happen next. "You know what? Maybe I will!" I scream, grabbing the keys near my feet. See, that was a stupid thing to say, because that was a silent dare to myself to go ahead and do it...

"What the fuck? Drake, where are you going?" Kayle yells from the couch.

Sliding from my seat on the ugly blue carpeted floor, I turn to walk out of our apartment, completely determined to get back to Mr. Mortella's.

When I reach outside, I realize that I forgot my coat. Oh well, I guess. Instead of fretting about the cold, I grab my cell phone, calling Vince's number. Kayle gave it to me shortly after we moved, saying that if he ever got lost, Mr. Mortella would be able to find him before I even got the chance to ask "Have you seen Kayle?"

"Uh... Hello?" A tired voice answers after 3 rings.

"... Mr. Mortella? It's Drake..."

"Ahhh, Drake. What can I do for ya, kiddo?" He asks as if he already knows. I can already see his devious toothy smile beginning to glare.

"I accept your offer..." I say monotonously.

"Ahhh, so I'll be getting my Christmas present early this year, I see?"

I choose not to respond. According to the fact that I'm outside, alone, I let my shudder be seen by the unmoving objects on the road. This is it. I have officially fucked everything up...

"...Who's the customer?" I ask, trying to remain uninterested.

"... Me."


Chappttter done.

This isn't my strongest chapter, oh well. I've been trying to fix it to the point where I kind of actually like what I'm writing, that isn't happening :p But, one of my friends always say that you're officially an 'artist' when you hate your work :p

Again, can't believe where I left that off, slight cliffhanger :p Will Drake go through with it? Or will he NOT go through with it? ... I'm disturbed that the theme of prostitution is even IN this story! I'm a disturbed individual... NEXT CHAPTER! oh lord...

Review :)