Rocks was an enormous success.  Joe dedicated it to his dad.  Joey and Julia were officially a couple, and they were pretty hot for one another.  I was always the go-to babysitter, which was totally cool.  On the rare occasion when Joe was home and helped me out with them, it felt... Right.  Like that's what it's supposed to be.  But I'm afraid that I can't have that because Joe seems content where he is.  Stuck in the eternal dating phase.  Living together, sleeping together, but never (purposely) having kids together or getting married.  I don't think I like it.

        I mean, don't get me wrong, because the album release parties are pretty kick-ass and they certainly wouldn't be able to be what they are if everyone had kids.  I certainly wouldn't take a kid up to New Hampshire for the weekend to have a twenty-four-seven party at Steven's lake house.  Seriously!  It's constant drinking, drugs, doing stupid stuff... You name it!  But it's always a blast.  I was shocked that I was even allowed to go.  Well, I'm sure Steven didn't pay too much mind to it because pretty much everyone involved with the album was invited (so naturally all guys from Aerosmith) and if Joe were to go then of course I'd go.  But you can't do that with kids, can you?

        Dammit, Annie, why are you thinking about this again?  You're in love with the lead guitarist of Americas greatest rock and roll band... Shouldn't you be pleased with your life?  Honestly, what more could you want?

        I laced my hand in Joe's and laid my head against his shoulder, settling in for the flight to St. Louis, Missouri.  After much begging and pleading from everyone but Steven, I finally agreed to join Aerosmith on tour.

        We checked into the hotel, and headed straight for the arena.  I planned to sit backstage during the show.  During the sound check, however, I sat in the audience.  Their manager was annoyed with them, aware that on the plane we weren't only physically miles high.  We could do dope on the plane because it was new and people didn't know what it was.  Lay a few lines out on the little trays that fold down and people might stare, but they won't ask questions.  It's great!

--

Again, sitting backstage on the couches with the other girlfriends (excluding Julia) during the show, listening to their music shake the walls and vibrate the floors, I felt like one of those rich rocktars' wives.  Why I thought wives rather than Joe Perry's girlfriend, I'm still not sure (I've asked this before, too!), but... Maybe I'm going insane.  Maybe I need to take some more drugs.  All the other girlfriends are over there partying, why don't I try and make some new friends?

        I'm not one for new people who are obviously better than me.  All of them are prettier, bigger... You name it.  Steven's groupie-of-the-night could've taken plastic wrap, spun around in it, covering the least amount of her body as she could, and then spray-painted it purple.  Her shiny, strappy heels matched.  Her lips glistened red and dark makeup was painted on her eyelids.  She was skinny as a stick but absolutely stunning.  Admittedly, I was jealous.  As mentioned, Julia wasn't there, so Joey didn't have a girlfriend, but there were some more groupies.  Brad's groupie was similar to Steven's, but her skirt was a short black leather and her yellow sleeveless top barely met her bellybutton.  Tom's groupie wore a fishnet shirt underneath a red shirt that hung off her shoulders.  She wore the most clothing out of everyone, other than me.  She had dark hair that was kind of curly and reached past her shoulders.  With that she wore light-washed jeans.  Undeniably, she was pretty and I liked her the best out of all of them.

        I poured myself a drink, standing next to Tom's groupie.  Steven's and Brad's looked me over as if I were a fresh piece of meat.  Tom's glanced back at them, then rolled her eyes, looking at me.  She stuck out a hand for me to shake.  "I'm Terry," she said.  "You must be Annie?"

        I nod, returning her genuine smile.  She seemed nice enough.  I introduce myself to the other two, but... They're nothing much, to be frank.  I mainly spent the show with Terry because she really was real.  I mean, hey, you share a few drinks, share a few drugs and suddenly you're best friends?  The best part was, it worked!  I met someone else who was a real person that felt like a rich rockstars' wife and I could talk to them!  I made my first real friend (that wasn't a guy) in the musical industry!

        Wow.  How lame does that sound?  I sound like I've been living in a hole for the past five years.

--

By the time we were in Michigan (May something or other), I was already bored with the tour.  It had hardly been a month but I wanted to go home.  I was done with the wear and tear of touring, and I was done with people.  Steven still refused to talk to me, much less look at me, and to make things worse, he and Joe battled it out over me last night, and then when they were nearly done, Joe started yelling at me because he was pissed at Steven and it was all just one big mess.  To say the least, I slept on the couch and haven't seen Joe since he stormed out of the arena last night.

        Nonetheless, by the time they played their show in Michigan, Joe and Steven were inseparable again.  They played the show, all was forgiven (mainly because they kicked ass), and Aerosmith was a happy band.  I, however, was not part of that happy little circle.  Not until we went to the hotel.  After partying it out, Joe returned to the room the evening of the ninth of May and pulled me off the couch, out of my book.  The show was last night.  He pulled me close, fingers hooked in my belt loops, and looked into my eyes and apologized.

        Joe Perry apologized to me.  I was dumbfounded for just a second, then the better part of me took over and immediately accepted.  He kissed my nose, and I said with a laugh, "I don't even remember what it was over."  I was talking about whatever our argument two nights ago was.

        "It doesn't matter," he shrugged, "because it's over."  With a goofy little smile tugging at the corner of his lips he kissed me again and then pulled me down to the couch.  He studied my face, and suddenly the happiness vanished.  "Why do you wanna go home?" he asked.

        Is it that obvious?  Or have I said it out loud?  Regardless, I shrug.  "I just don't like touring."  I smile halfheartedly, in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.

        Joe wasn't buying it.  He looked at me dubiously.  "How can you be a rockstar's girlfriend if you don't like touring?" he asked, poking me in the ribs.

        "I dunno!" I gasp, giggling.  "I'll be a stay-at-home rockstar's girlfriend."

        "Hmm... Now that sounds more like stay-at-home mom––"

        Pause!  Where's he going with this?  Stay-at-home mom?  What's he trying to say?  Does he want me to stay at home and raise children?  Oh, God, what's he gonna say?

        All that ran through my head in the split second between words.

        "––than a stay-at-home girlfriend," Joe said, unaware of my near-panic attack.  "Maybe you should trade places with Julia or something."  He laughs, making jokes like the old Anthony.  "But then again, I'd be very lonely... And I can't fly home every night just to see you––I'd like to, but I can't."

        He kisses me again as the little butterflies that had no business being in my stomach turn to rocks.  "Are you okay?" he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear and looking worried.  I nod, trying to reassure him.  Again, he kisses me (not to share too much, but the more he kisses me, the deeper they get), still worried.  "Are you sure?"

        "Positive."

        "Promise?"

        "Yes," I say with a nod.

        "Annie, how long have I known you?" he asks suddenly.

     "Uh, like twenty years?" I say uncertainly.  What's with the sudden (and obvious) change of subject?

        "Okay," he drawls slowly, "are you absolutely sure that you're alright?"

        "Absolutely," I promise.

        Joe releases me and faces forward, rolling his eyes and looking bored.  He pretends to check a watch he doesn't have on his wrist, trying not to smirk.  "Whatever, Annie Capello," he says tiredly.  "I can wait 'til you're ready to spill."

        "Wha––?"

        He cuts me off my checking his invisible watch again.  He stares at the TV antenna, occasionally glancing at me to see if I'm ready to crack.

        I don't even know what I'd say or why I'd say it.  He's busy being a rockstar, playing to millions of fans every night; he hardly has time for me.  I'm not selfish, I swear, I love watching and hearing him play, believe me... But like I've said, after a show he's always so tired that he just falls asleep.  Either that or he's partying with the band.  He hardly has time for a girlfriend, much less a wife and kid.

        Okay, I've said it now I'll never be able to forget it.  I have officially mentioned the word wife in association with Joe and me.  Therefore, I have mentioned marriage––indirectly of course, but I've still thought about it.  In truth, I've thought about it a lot.  Maybe to the point where it might be considered borderline obsessive.  I don't think he's considered it at all.  I don't think he wants to live that kind of life.  Maybe he just wants to play guitar in a band, become an overly-rich guitar-god, do tons of drugs, break millions of hearts (after he's decided that he doesn't have time for a girlfriend––me), and... Live life to the best it can be.

        Holy shit, I just saw the future.  It's scary because I can actually see it happening in my mind.  The next sixty years of Joe's life just flashed before my eyes and I wasn't part of them and he was happy.  I was shaken.

        Relax... It was merely a thought.  We are a couple of kids in love.

        But is that all we'll ever be, is a couple of twenty-somethings in love?  Nothing more, nothing less?  Am I gonna be Annie Capello, the girl that sat on the sidelines for sixty years and watched her boyfriend play guitar in his famous band?  What do I get to amount to?  Shit, I dropped out of an art––no, the best––friggin' art school (that was completely paid for in scholarship grants, by the way) because Steven and Joe got me hooked on acid.  I quit my job because Aerosmith became famous.  I dropped contact with my own family because I just had to be like the others and do a few lines and drop a few tabs and smoke a few joints.

        If I could go back in time, I'd change a few things.  I wouldn't do the drugs, I'd stay in school, I'd still go through the heartbreak of Steven because then I'd end up with––no, on second thought, I'd tell Joe right then and there at the taxi cab before Vermont about my feelings.  But then what if he chose to stay behind and then he never would've met Steven and Joe'd still be scooping ice-cream in Hopedale and Aerosmith'd have another guitarist?  I wouldn't be here right now.  Maybe I'd be in the apartment underneath my parent's apartment––the apartment of Joe and me––cuddled up next to Joe watching a movie or something, with a little Joe or little Annie in my lap...

        Oh, God.  Stop it, Annie, stop it right now.  "I need some sleep," I muttered, hurrying off to the bedroom.  I'm not sure how long we were both sitting there, but Joe jumped when I spoke.

        In my pajamas (an old teeshirt and a pair of holey sweatpants), I curled under the covers of the big bed and tried to fall asleep.  But, the pillows seemed too soft and the bed seemed to lumpy, so I ended up tossing and turning.  I don't know when Joe came in, but it must've been late.  I was still awake when he started snoring.

        How can two people lie so close together but feel so many miles apart?  Maybe it's just me.  Finally though, I fell asleep, feeling alone even though Joe was right next to me.

--

Your thoughts:

        Annie, aren't you in love?  How can you feel so distant; you love each other!  Annie, did you have too much to drink?  Did you shove too much up your nose?  Did you inhale too much of that stage smoke during the show?  Are you going insane?  What is wrong with you?  You should be happy; I'd give anything to be with Joe Perry!

--

That night, as I lie in bed, I made a very important decision.  It's a terrible one, yes, but... It needs done.  Yes, I'm in love, hopelessly, for that matter, but it's not going anywhere.  It was that thought that convinced me to finally do it.  That thought made me convince myself to commit the horrible, fiendish act I needed to do.  That, and a long stroll downtown.

        I climbed out of the bed at seven in the morning, not able to take tossing and turning anymore.  I slipped into some suitable clothes and shoes, and took the elevator down.  I snagged a peice of toast from the breakfast area, and stepped outside.  It had evidently rained the night before––hard.  The sidewalks were still wet, and fog hung thick in the air.  It was gray, the clouds like a solid wall blocking out the feeble sunrise.  All in all, depressing.

        I put my hood up and began walking.  Without even taking a bite, I tossed my toast to some lost seagulls, trying to get back to the many lakes surrounding Pontiac, Michigan.  I didn't watch them devour it.  I meandered into a coffee shop, ordering a coffee. I don’t know why I ordered the coffee, I didn’t have much of a taste for anything.  Mainly, I went for the walk to clear my head.  I needed to get out and see if some fresh air would change my mind.  I kind of hoped it would, but a small part knew that I had to do it.

        After walking for what felt like hours, I went back to the hotel.  It had started to drizzle again as I made my way back, so my hair was a little wet because my hood was not adequately waterproof.  I walked through the door quietly, feeling and looking much like a lost puppy.  I tried to be quiet, planning to slip into the shower and be sitting on the couch ready to leave for New York by the time Joe woke up.

        Nope.  "Annie!  God, I thought you left or something!"  Joe leaped up from the bed, where he had been laying and talking on the phone seconds ago.

        "No, I went for a... Walk.  Why would I leave?" I say nervously, adding a strangled laugh at the end.

        Joe clapped his hands together, ridiculously bright for eight in the morning.  "Well I'm glad you're back," he said, unaware of my hysterics, "because we need to go."

        "Oh, right..."  I'll tell him later.  Later was better anyway.

       "You good?" he asked, suddenly noticing.  I nod, feeling my nose getting all prickly.  No, not now.  I smile, trying not to allow the lump to form in my throat.  "Okay..."  He stares at me with his head cocked to one side for just a second longer.  Then he smiles a goofy smile and kisses me, taking my hand and leading me out the door.

        We meet the rest of the guys in the lobby.  They're all shoving their faces full of stale biscuts, cold bacon, old gravy, dry toast and soggy eggs.  Joe stole a piece of bacon from Steven.  Steven didn't even notice.  He was staring straight ahead, in a daze.  In fact, they all were.

        "Our flight's a little late and we don't wanna have to deal with security," Joe explained in my ear. I chewed on my lip.

--

Joe tried again on the plane, "I know you are not okay.  Please, what's wrong?"  He caressed my hand with his, staring intently at me.  Oh, God.

        I don't know how much longer I can avoid this.  I want to avoid it forever, but that can't happen.  But... What's the harm in giving it a shot?  I mean, the record producer from Columbia took a shot that night in the bar and look what he got: America's greatest rock n' roll band.  Ah, what the hell...

        I take a breath.  "There's nothing wrong, per se..." I begin slowly.  Joe looks at me skeptically.  "Just... Forget it.  It's not important, trust me."

        "Annie, something's obviously bothering you.... It's important," Joe said seriously.

        "It's just... Don't you want... Do you... No, forget it.  Seriously."  Joe sighed, getting annoyed.  "Do you ever think about tomorrow?  Or a week from now, or a month, year from now?" I snap suddenly, feeding off his annoyance.

        Joe contemplates my question, then shakes his head.  "I'd rather live right here, right now," he says, kissing me.  "Why?"

        "Okay... So when you're living today, do you ever think about..."  I trail off, looking for the right words.  "Don't you want more, Joe?"

        "More... What?" he asks, confused.

        "I dunno," I say, feeling utterly stupid.  "Just... More?  Like, in life and stuff."

        Joe smiles, clueless to the torment going on my brain.  "Why would I want more when I've got all that I need right here?"  He sweeps his arms around the plane, gesturing to the crew, the band, eyes landing on me.

        "Okay," I say.  After that, all conversation drops, and so does the plane.

        "Ladies and genitals," Steven says, mocking the stewardess on the intercom, though changing a few words, "undo your belts... We are beginning our descent."  Steven grins evilly and we're suddenly aware of what he said and meant.

        "––into New York City," the stewardess says.

        "Thank you for riding us, have a wonderful day," Steven finishes with a maniac-like cackle.  Joe reaches behind him and gives Steven a high-five for his 'witty' comment.  The manager rolls his eyes.

--

We checked into the hotel, and I said I was a bit tired and needed to stay home.  "And miss the best night of our lives?" Joe said, incredulous.

        "Sorry," I say, not looking at him.  It's gonna be the best night of their lives?  I can't ruin that for him... I'll have to wait to tell him until later.  "Go enjoy it with the band.  I'll see you next time you play Madison Square Garden."

        "Yeah..." Joe says, suddenly grinning hugely, probably thinking about next time.  "Next time..."  But I won't be there next time.  I can't hang around with them after I do the terrible act.  And I've gotta do it soon or else I'll never be able to let go.  Oh, God.

--

A/N: Like is anyone reading this anymore?  Has it gotten too boring?  I mean I finished writing it all, so there's not much I can change about the boring-ness, but I can try a little. Vote and comment and stuff and let me know (I appreciate constructive criticism or whatever you wanna call it) c: thanks for reading