Jareth flipped the kickstand down as he stepped off his motorcycle, carefully lifting his helmet off his head and shaking his hair out, running a careless gloved hand through it as he walked toward the house. The sun was shining and the birds were flitting happily from branch to branch. All was right with the world and nothing short of a natural disaster could have possibly wiped the cheerful smile off of his face today. Before he'd gotten three steps away from his bike, he heard a cacophonous clang from the garage, their makeshift practice room for the past three years and turned to open the door. Inside were all of his band mates, sprawled bonelessly across a pair of threadbare couches and some beanbag chairs, some strumming guitars, one twirling a pair of drumsticks in such a lazy way Jareth wouldn't have been surprised if they slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"Ah, the rock star finally decides to grace us with his presence." The irritated voice belonged, of course, to Kale, who looked slightly hung over in his rumpled clothes.

"Sorry I'm late, boys," he said easily, still grinning. "I had a very interesting run-in with my lovely new neighbor."

Michael snorted and dropped both of his drumsticks to stare up at him in disbelief. "The one from last night? Good lord, you work fast," he said admiringly. "Maybe you could give me a few pointers sometime—"

"I'm sorry; I thought we were here for band practice, not you two girls gabbing about your hookups." Kale's irritation was almost tangible, even over the twang of his brother strumming his guitar lazily. Michael rolled his eyes as he stood and moved toward his bass, laughing when Gabe took up a funeral dirge to accompany him.

"Yes, mother dear. Whatever you say." Jareth turned and let his guitar case fall to the couch, nodding to Carmine who was perched in an armchair in the corner. He frowned slightly when she only glared at him coolly.

"Michael, I thought you were going to change your strings. That thing sounds like shit."

"Hey! I changed my strings last June… I think."

"Hey, Kale, does this sound in tune to you?" The question was followed closely by a sound like someone dropping a piece of steel into a wood chipper as both men began to strum furiously, without regard for the way he pictures on the wall began to shake as the amps blasted the chaotic sound far and wide. Kale covered his eyes with both hands and groaned.

"God, I need a drink."

"I'll get you something." Jareth called, already half way out the door. The sounds from the garage were greatly diminished when he stepped into the kitchen, which was at the other side of the house. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a few bottles of the first kind of alcohol he laid eyes on, turning to set them on the counter so he could open them. The quiet, creaking sound of footfalls in the doorway made him turn again to see Carmine leaning against the doorjamb, still staring at him as if he'd just slapped her. He raised one of the open bottles to his lips as he stared back, quirking a brow at her as he drank. When she spoke it was the last thing he expected her to say.

"You slept with her, didn't you?" Carmine crossed her arms and waited as Jareth chocked and almost dropped his bottle. He coughed and pounded himself hard on the chest as his eyes watered.

"I just met the woman last night," he gasped. "How can you accuse me of that already?"

"Because I know you! The way you were acting last night, it was obvious you were interested. And that's just the kind of thing you'd do." She turned away and looked back toward the garage, eyes focused on nothing in particular as she though. "Even after what's happened in the past."

Jareth watched her for a moment, an unhappy pucker between his brows before sighing and stepping toward her, tugging gently until she turned to face him again. "Carmine, you are the only woman in my life. And unless you'd like to share me with a very expensive psychologist, for whom I will make you pay, I would very much like you to trust me on that point."

To her credit, Carmine was able to cling to her icy demeanor for a few moments more before a grudging smile crept across her face and she nodded. Jareth smiled his own smile as he hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek before letting her go again and handing her a few beers to bring to the garage. He stood alone in the kitchen after she left, frowning and thinking. He knew what she had been referring to when she'd mentioned the past, how could he not? And he would never put either of them in that position again, especially not for some strangely enchanting girl who lived next door. But the thought of Sarah brought his insolent grin back to his face. No, he'd have to do this properly and court the girl before letting Carmine know what competition she had for his affections. Perhaps he'd pay her a visit later in the day.

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Sarah was glad the store was quiet today, only a few people since she'd come in ha stayed long enough to even realize someone was actually in the little shop, and then they'd just bought what they came for and left. Ah, the blessings of living in a quiet part of the city, she thought as she mechanically folded a stack of shirts and placed them gently in a shelf next to their multicolored mates. Sure, the retail business wouldn't make her rich but she worked in a store owned by a friend of her father's, next door to a book shop owned by a friend of her father's—in fact everyone on three blocks in every direction was a friend of her father's. A few years before, he'd singlehandedly kept a huge corporation from wiping out all the business there and replacing it with a Walmart and for that Sarah was the golden child of their little community. Every day she'd go to the small grocery store down the street and buy some fruit or a sandwich for lunch then head to the bookstore to read while she ate, as long as she was careful to keep the books clean. When she needed new shoes she went across the street for a discount that bordered on the small Indian man who owned the store simply giving them to her free. That and many other reasons were what convinced her father to allow her to move into the city. What more could a father ask for than for his daughter to be surrounded by friends who could wield baseball bats if anyone tried anything funny.

She straightened with a sigh, admiring her handiwork as she looked around the store and began to search for another task to busy herself with. The bell over the door rang but she had already spotted a rack across the aisle that needed her attention and had gone to take care of it. If anyone needed help they could ask the other girl working today, she wasn't feeling up to much socialization this afternoon. Not after… Her lips tingled as she remembered how he'd put his arms around her so easily, as if he knew he was welcome and would be in the future. The way he'd taken his time, like he knew he had all the time in the world. How he'd looked at her as he crossed the room; like she was the only thing that mattered to him— the smile on her face disappeared rapidly. How many other girls had fallen for that exact same look? Probably more than they could clothe with the entirety of the store's stock. Well, she certainly wasn't going to dinner with him tonight. She wouldn't even answer when he knocked on the door. She jammed a shirt back onto a hanger with a bit too much force and it snapped in half in her hand. Sighing, she picked up the pieces and wandered over to the counter to find another. Maybe it would just be better if she wasn't home at all when he knocked. On her break she called her friend Katie to see about crashing on her couch for the night.

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It took Jareth only half an hour to be certain that Sarah wasn't simply ignoring him. He checked his watch one last time before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Well, he couldn't expect to win the game in one day. If he could, what was the point of playing? With one last glance at the closed door he turned, hefted his guitar case over his shoulder and made his way up the stairs to his own apartment. At the top of the staircase a glint of silver caught his eye and he spun to blink in wonder at a small can sitting on his doorstep with a small note taped to it. He stepped forward and bent to pick it up, scanning the note as he did. It read:

Sorry I couldn't go out with you but I had better things to do. Plants to water, pet rocks to walk, paint to watch dry. All higher on my to-do list than dinner with you, I'm afraid. But here is something you can eat all by yourself, I'm sure. If you prefer chicken or fillet mignon, I'm afraid the store was out.

-Sarah

Jareth removed the note and laughed out loud. Oh, he'd known she was feisty but apparently she had follow through as well, because he was sure she didn't have a dog to feed which meant that she must have driven to the store just to get this. In his hands was a can of Alpo dog food, beef flavor. He grinned as he let himself in and set his guitar down, sweeping his arm across the mantle above the fireplace and, ignoring the mess of the remains of the porcelain figurine at his feet set the can in the place it used to be. When he stepped back to admire it he grinned again. "Cheeky little chit."

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Ok, so first of all, I changed the title to be an exact David Bowie reference, even though I liked the original better.

So, here's chapter three. Yay! See, I can continue things! I'm useful sometimes. :D Hope you lieks it!

AND I PROMISE there will be a chicken and glitter in the next chapter. I PROMISE! And I said that last chapter, but this time I mean it! It it very much overdue.

Next chapter (which will be much more eventful) in the next two weeks or so... I hope.