Dead Baby Kickball

Chapter Two

   "Take a right in 2.5 yards." my GPS chimed in a robotic voice, sounding somewhat like something out of a sci fi movie. "Chill your boner, dude." I mumbled to it, taking a small sip of coffee. I turned onto a wide road, in front of a building with people lined up outside of it. I sighed a bit and smiled. I was finally going to meet the singer of my favorite band. The guy I'd been idolizing since I was fourteen and he was sixteen. The guy who wrote a song about a girl with the same name as me. I swear, you have no idea how much I fangirled. 

 

 

   I crept my car into a tight space across from the venue, grabbed my keys, purse, notebook and pencil, and stepped out of the car before treading across the street. I looked both ways hurridly and ran as quickly as I could to the doorway of the building, cutting in front of everyone in line. "Hey, you can't do that!" a teenage girl squeaked from behind me, I ignored her and smiled at the bouncer, showing him my VIP pass, curtosey of By Proxy Magazine. The bouncer looked at it, nodded, and held open the door for me, stepping out of the way. "Thanks." i breathed, moving past him. I found myself in a large room with no windows and a stage to the far left. 

 

 

   "Hey, watch out!" someone yelled in a sort of raspy and high pitched voice. I recognized the voice and turned in it's direction, butterflies growing, just in time to see a blue ball of some sort fly into my vision. "Ow!" I cried, my hand flying up to my eye. "shit! What was that, a fucking hammer?!" I shreiked, bending over slightly. "I am SO sorry. We were playing around before we had to go on, shit, I'm sorry..." They said, babbling and, placing their hand on my back. "I'm Blake. Blake Tracey. Who are you and why are you in here? He asked. I could tell by his tone that he was a little confused. Still holding my eye and bent over, I offered my hand. "I'm Emily Rocha, reporter for By Proxy Magazine... I'm here to interveiw you..." I stated as he took my hand, shking it gently. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry about your eye. Come with me into the green room and I'll get you an ice pack." She said. I nodded and stood up, following behind the short little guy with long black hair. 

 

 

    Once we walked into a small room, he pranced over to a small fridge, grabbed a blue sloshy ice pack and pointed to a couch on the far end. "Please sit?" He said, smiling a bit. My heart melted but I kept my composure by nodding and sitting down, still holding my eye. He sat down softly next to me, took my hand and peeled it off of my eye before placing the ice pack on my throbing eye. "Ow!" I hissed. "Sorry, Doll. So... You're here to interveiw me?" He asked, cocking a smirk. 

 

   "Uhm, Yeah." I said, grabbing my notebook and pen out of my purse. "Shit!" I barked. "What's the matter?"

"I left the list of questions in my car..." I sighed. "Oh... Improv then?" he asked, chuckling a bit. "Uhm... yeah. First question... How are you today?"

"I'm pretty good."

"Any crazy tour stories?" I asked, clicking my pen and pressing it to the paper of my notebook. Blake adjusted the ice pack in his hand before taking it off of my eye, which was feeling better.  "Well, uhm.. Okay. I have one. My bassist, Kyle, and I were fucking around and throwing a football in the venue once, right? So, this goreous girl walks in and we don't really notice her until I throw the football WAAAAY off direction and hit her in the eye." He said, smiling at me. I chuckled, blushing a deep shade of red. "Well, I'm sure that was rather interesting." 

 

   He smirked softly at me, seemingly studying my face. "Hmm. I think it was." I wrote a few things down and looked around the green room. Empty. Just him and I. I finished what I was writing and looked back to Blake, who was staring at me intently. My heart raced and I had to fight to keep my breathing steady. "Alright, next question..."