Rock Gods and Parties Don't Mix

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot.

The curtain went up and there he stood all the glory that which was Jesse. My Jesse. I sighed happily as I watched from backstage of the auditorium. "Miss Simon? Would you like something to drink?" I turned around and one of the concert coordinators smiled at me.

"No, thank you," I answered back. My attention went back onto Jesse who was performing a song on stage entitled "The Dead Never Stay Dead," which was appropriately named because the song dealt with him being a ghost. He does that a lot, write songs about being a ghost, becoming human, and falling in love with me. Of course, people don't know about that, being a ghost and then coming alive again I mean.

My Jesse, a rockstar. How cool is that? And I'm his girlfriend. After his last song, which was appropriately titled "Susannah," he came off stage, all sweaty and god-like, and walked over to me. "Another perfect performance," he said, toweling himself off.

"Anything from you, Jesse, is perfect." Cheesy, I know, but it's true either way. He smiled one of his perfect smiles and gave me one of his perfect kisses. See what I mean? "So, why don't we get out of here and eat. I'm so hungry." I'm so happy Jesse's alive and breathing, not dead and cold like before. It was odd how he came into the music business though.

Three months ago, Jesse and I were just walking outside when I limo pulled up beside us. This music executive rolled down the window and said that Jesse had the perfect rockstar look. So he gave Jesse his business card and drove away. I thought it'd be funny seeing Jesse all rockstar-like. But well, as the story goes, he got a contract and his first single "Ghost Story" which he wrote about falling in love with me while he was still a ghost, became number one on all the rock charts.

Women wanted him and men wanted to be him. But thank God, Jesse wasn't like other rockstars. He wasn't into drugs or drinking and he wasn't defiling young girls behind my back every night. That's what I love about him most, it's that out of everything that's happen, the love between Jesse and I never changed. How could it changed when we loved it each other so much to the point where we would die for each other. And that almost happened once. "Querida?" Ah, the one word that made me melt coming from him.

"Yes?" I asked. We were still standing backstage. I looked around, that band was coming backstage now.

"I asked, where would you like to go eat?"

"Um, what about the deli by your condo?" Yeah, Jesse had a condo and I lived with him. Hey, I was twenty-two and my job was closer to Jesse's place then it is to my parents' house. He smiled.

"Great, I really wanted a turkey sandwich," he replied. Before leaving, he had to say good-bye to his band and change out of his performance clothes which consisted of, would you believe it, a billowy, white shirt and leather pants. He came out of his dressing room with an AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans on.

And just as we were about to leave out the backdoor, Jesse's manager Tom Prescott pulled him aside. "Jesse, dude I'm really sorry, but you've got an autograph signing right now backstage." I sighed. The only bad thing about Jesse being a rockstar is that he was too busy to spend time with me. Not that I care or anything, I mean Jesse adores his fans, but well I adore him too.

After his manager walled away, talking into his cell phone, Jesse turned to me. I smiled sadly. "Jesse, they're waiting for you."

"I'm so sorry querida," he apologized.

"No, no, it's totally cool with me. These people love you Jesse, it's not fair if you spend all your time with me and not them." I tried my best to sound supportive, but I was failing horribly. "I'll just meet you back at the condo." He nodded. I pressed my lips onto his and parted.

I looked down at my wrist-watch. Ten-thirty. Well I guess I could just make something at home for dinner. This sucks, this sucks big time. I came up to my aqua-blue Mini Cooper and took out my keys. Opening the door, I got in and started the engine.

When I got home, I sat on the couch, exhausted. I figured Jesse would be home in at least an hour. So I waited. I had work at noon tomorrow so it's fine if I just wait for an hour or more. Midnight rolled by and my stomach gave a low growl. I'm sure Jesse wouldn't mind if I have dinner without him. I'm sure he'll be home when I finished dinner. When I finished eating dinner, which was at one, I gave up and went to bed. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't mad. How could he just desert me like this? Suze, calm you're self. I'm sure he has a good reason why he isn't home yet. This has happened before, sadly enough.

That night, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

I woke up the next morning, at around nine. The events of last night just seemed like a blur, until I turned onto my other side and found Jesse sleeping peacefully still in his clothes from the night before.

The rage inside of me boiled, until he said, "querida," in his sleep. Gosh, he even dreams of me. I simmered down with a small smile across my face. I sat up, looked down at Jesse, moved a few strands of his dark hair away from his face, and gave him a kiss. He stirred.

"Querida," he said, opening his eyes and smiling. He sat up and kissed me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I felt his tongue run across my bottom lip. I opened willingly and his search my mouth, with me doing the same. We parted, reluctantly.

"When did you get home?" I asked.

"Three in the morning. I'm so sorry querida. When I came home, you were already asleep. So I just fixed myself a sandwich then went to bed."

"Where were you? I got so worried." It wasn't exactly a lie.

"After the signing, which ended at twelve, Tom said that the studio was having a party for me because of my album coming out soon. So I said I would only stay for twenty minutes. But then when we went, Tom got really drunk so I had to drive him home." That Tom is a really bad influence on Jesse. I sighed. "But I'll make it up to you. I'll-I'll make you breakfast in bed, stay here." I giggled. He gave a peck on the cheek and went into the kitchen. I sat in bed for about twenty minutes, hearing the clatter of pots and pans.

He came in, with a tray. On the tray was a plate stacked high with pancakes, maple syrup, and a glass of orange juice. I must say, Jesse isn't half bad at cooking compared to Andy. We finished up breakfast and finally got out of bed.

I left at eleven-fifty to work which happened to be at the Museum of Natural History in San Francisco. (A.N.: Is there a museum of Natural History in SF? I'm not sure.) I was a historian at the museum, and was called upon if ever one of the archeologists needed to clarify something. Jesse said that I should quit my job because he had enough money to support us for like the rest of our lives, but I loved my job. Really, I do.

I got to my tiny office just in time because my boss, Jodie, was waiting for me with a stack of papers. "Well, good morning Suze," she said in a fake, sickly sweet tone.

"Er, morning Jodie," I said, taking my sit at my desk which was covered with paper and what-not.

"Doctor Livingston would like a full report on Darwin's evolutionary theory for his trip to the Galapagos Inlands in two weeks." She left. I sighed and turned on my computer. Marty, one of the other historians came into my office, holding a copy of People.

"Well hello Suze," she said.

"Hey Marty," I replied, not really looking at her due to the fact that I was searching ever engine for a decent report on Darwin.

"Well, I guess Jesse's up for grabs then?" I turned to her, a confused look on my face.

"Excuse me?"

"Front page of People deary. It seems like little Jesse has another girlfriend." I stared at her as she showed me the cover. "Rock's new God was Seen Last night have a little fun with Amy Baxter" the headlight read. I grabbed the magazine out of her hands. And sure enough, on the cover was Jesse, kissing Amy Baxter, but his head was covering it. Amy Baxter was the ruling teen queen popstar of music at nineteen. She was this fake, blond bombshell with an annoying voice that had men at her feet. That bitch.