Disclaimer: KISS, Gene Simmon and Paul Stanley are actual persons. This is a work of FICTION, and is not meant to harm or demean. It is a fictional account of what things might have been like for a personal friend of Gene and a friend of Stan getting to know KISS in their formative years. Raina MacLaren, Karen Valentez, Trisha Malloy and Liz of Sweet Revenge are property of the author, Trynia Merin.

"You REALLY ought to answer that ad," Mo told his friend.

"Man I'm not a rock drummer, shit," Peter Criscuola threw his hand up.

"But you're living on dedication sandwiches to it? Sheesh man, are you NUTS?" Maurice, known to Mo by his buddies in the band that had played many a club. Unfortunately, few of them wanted jazz musicians with all the new rock acts crawling out of the woodwork.

"Well, you have a point there, man," Peter muttered, circling the ad in the Village Voice that Mo had pointed out to him. They were both sitting at the local bar, relaxing with a glass of beer each and trying to decide what they could do next to shoot Peter's career in the arm.

"Who gives a damn WHAT you play, as long as you have EXPERINCE, right?" Mo told him. "And I've seen you improvise. That's all that fancy rock is... I mean most of 'em are lucky to find a drummer who can keep a freaking beat, Pete..."

"Yeah tell me about it," Peter laughed, taking a good draught of his beer. "I wonder... maybe I'll give it a shot..."

"Lemmie know how it works out," Mo nodded.

"See you later..." Peter nodded, finishing his beer and giving his friend a half embrace and thump on his back. "I'm outta here..."

Still shaking his head, Peter shoved his hands into his pockets of his jeans and buttoned the jean jacket he was wearing. Gigs were few and far between for his type of music. It was do what you can, when you could, and he was about desperate to do ANYTHING for a steady gig, instead of the infrequent times, the bars or clubs would hire a drummer. Or some hotshot group with minimal talent needed SOMONE who knew how to do more then keep a beat going would borrow him, only to change their minds or swindle him out of his fair share.

No, things would be different, Peter decided. He'd make this next thing work, even if he had to dye his hair or shave his head. Nothing was too bad or good when you needed money in this day and age. Already in his short life, he'd faced dozens of times when it seemed he danced close to death, and landed on all fours. Friends or family, they were either people you could trust or people who could do you wrong. But where music was concerned, that was what he wanted. To play like some modern day Gene Krupa. He'd seen the old time movies, which were an escape from reality in the thirties and forties. In the movies, everything worked out all right, or an argument between man and woman could be solved in a dance or a duet. Orchestras magically appeared and soundtracks burst into full stereophonic sound when one man started singing a love song to his lady.

"Life's NOT like that," he laughed ironically, catching the next bus. He rode out toward Manhattan, to an uncertain future.

Perhaps not so uncertain. He leapt off the bus at the newspaper publishing office, having found it from the address on the paper. Whoever set that ad would know he was just as serious, Peter decided. Walking coolly inside, Peter asked for the ads department, and took the form for placing his own want ad.

He started with, "Drummer with 11 years experience..." and hesitated. Of course that was true, he smirked. After all he had YEARS of experience most young hotshots didn't. And he didn't have to say WHAT sort of experience he had. Trying to compress his lifetime into a few sentences was tricky, but he'd have to be clever.

"Willing to do anything," he added, after a few other sketchy details. Enough to tantalize, and tease. Whoever wanted a drummer would see this somewhere in the want ads, for they must be carefully combing them to find just what they wanted.

He threw down some money to cover the fee, and handed his ad over. Fastening his jacket again, he wrapped the scarf his mom had made him, one of the few things that reminded him of her sweet memory, and wandered out into the wintry air again.

***

Raina looked at the battered piano Gene had in their loft, and shook her head. Where had they found this jewel from, and why didn't they simply ask for hers, she wondered.

It still had a very nice tone, even if the casing was battered. She began to play the ditty she had played so many years before for Gene and Steve. It somehow never suited any of the songs that Karen and Liz had already written for their second album. So engrossed in the strange inversion that was far too haunting for their fast driving shouts or slow moving mood songs, that she wondered if there would ever be a place for Diamond in the Rough.

She didn't notice the keys jingling or the sound of the bolts unlocking from behind the door. Slowly it creaked open, and soft footsteps thudded the hollow floor. Soft large hands rested on her shoulders, kneading her muscles there with precision that made Raina sigh.

"Mmm, what are you working on?" Gene asked, lips buzzing her ear sweetly. "That melody is so familiar..."

"It should be, that's what I played in front of your buddies in Bullfrog..."

"I DO remember," he teased. "I was just joking..."

"I know, you rotten sneak," Raina laughed back. The bench creaked a bit as she felt his warm body press against her back, his sturdy thighs moving to bracket hers on either side, body pushing Raina a bit forward on the piano bench.

"Play it from the beginning," he whispered. "I want to hear the whole song... please?"

"I don't have words for it... it just doesn't fit ANYTHING that we have written..."

"I was wondering... if perhaps you'd let me use it..."

"Uh... not to sound rude, but do I get a share of the royalties?" she half joked. Yet, Gene took Raina seriously.

"If I help YOU write a song, will that be a fair exchange?" Gene asked her.

"Yes," she nodded. "You write the melody to one of Sweet Revenge's songs, and you can have Diamond in the rough..."

"Terrific," Gene nodded, kissing her ear. "I promise you WON'T be disappointed."

"It has to either rock hard, or flow like a Doors song," she said. "We're extremes..."

"Hmmm my kind of ladies," Gene joked.

"So... what exactly ARE you and Stan going to do with this new group?"

"It's a secret," he chuckled. "You'll see. The kid's been running ads for a drummer... and I've been trying to think of someone for a keyboard and guitarist... but the kid thinks we don't NEED a keyboardist of ANY kind..."

"Darn," she laughed. "It's an integral part of Sweet Revenge. Since we don't have a bass, I double for that, and undergird and harmonize with the others... sometimes if Karen's singing she's not banging out guitar chords... and I have to carry the rhythm line... it works for Ray Maznarick..."

"But are you going to be a second rate Doorettes or a first rate SWEET revenge?" he asked.

"Good point... we need to find our sound..."

"Exactly... like take Stan and me... no wait the kid's going by a different moniker now..."

"Paul, right?" she chimed in. "Karen told me he suddenly came up with a stage name..."

"I gotta admit it suits him. But it take a HELL of a lot of getting used to... and his parents HATED it..." Gene shook his head, hands running over her chest. Raina groaned at the strange expertise in his touch, just the combination of hardness and softness she liked.

"It has a nice ring," I laughed.

"It does," Gene hummed, still rubbing her chest from behind as he kissed her neck.

"I thought you came here to practice..."

"I am," he teased.

"Not on your music though..."

"Is it a crime to keep warmed up?" he half growled playfully, hands snaking down to gently unfasten her jeans and slip his hands inside. Her fingers slipped on the piano keys, playing a jangling discord that reflected her flush of desire. Especially when she felt his fingers teasing her playfully, and working her to a fast desire.

It seemed sheer heaven when she considered the amount of affection and closeness Gene bestowed on her. After a firm discreet distance that Mark would maintain, this was feast to his famine. They made passionate love many a night, and sometimes during the day in very odd places, what one would call a quickie. It was wild, spontaneous and erotically thrilling, a treat that she relished.

Raina turned around and straddled his lap, finding his lips with her own. Eyes closed Raina narrowed her sensations to absorb the warmth of his tongue burying itself into her mouth to taste her, never tiring of his game. Inwardly Raina wondered if any man other then Gene would be able to satisfy her, if we were to ever part. Raina had seen his shameless flirting with other women on the street, perfecting a smoldering gaze as he licked his lips. Strangely, it didn't bother her, for Raina found herself eyeing attractive men as well. It was a fun game, because Raina knew it was his bed she shared at night.

The past two weeks were wonderful, despite the fact that she worked frantically to learn the ways of the new organ. Their concert with the Runaways had gone well, although the fans almost booed till they went on and played their first set. They screamed for louder, and the band delivered. By the time Joan Jett came on, she was yelling her thanks to them for warming up the crowd. They each got a hundred dollars for their trouble, and a few new listeners who said they were "interesting."

Karen had moved completely out from her home, but Raina still encouraged her to finish high school. She reluctantly agreed, transferring to a public school for the next semester to finish, and Raina wrote a recommendation for her to attend a school where Gloria taught. She was one of the few Raina had entrusted with her secret location, telling her about the business with mark. IN a worried gasp, she demanded to know where Raina was. All Raina could reveal was that she was safe, and with a man named Gene Simmons. This name meant little to her, but she guessed he was some respectable sort of guy, considering Raina told her he worked for a magazine.

Raina helped Karen with her subjects, tutoring her so she could remain in school. They had just started the new semester, she in a catholic school where they didn't ask too many questions, and accepted teachers in earth science. Raina had a light schedule, bringing in enough to help Gene out with the rent, and help pay her share of groceries, while saving the rest for the band. First thing, he had gone with her to the Social Security office where she officially changed her name from Raina MacLaren to Rachel Lindsey. It felt like a necessary step, because she was starting a new life, away from Mark and his problems.

Still the issue of her parents weighed on her mind. Since she moved in with Mark, Raina hadn't spoken to them much. How would they take the news of his abuse? Raina decided if she was to disappear, it would be best if she kept silence, lest her parents casually mention to Mark where she was. It was safer that way. Only when Raina felt good and ready would she reveal where she was.

"Something bothering you, baby?" Gene asked, pulling out of their kiss.

"My parents... I can't just leave them hanging..."

"Send them a postcard from some faraway location... just drop them a line and let them know you're okay... but you found another job... that way they can't blow your cover..." Gene suggested. "I'll have Stan drop it off next time he has a fare in Jersey..."

"Good. I'm just still scared... what if Mark..."

"He won't," Gene answered firmly. "I've got you now, and you're making your OWN life. So nobody can ever push you around again..."

He hooked his fingers into her beltloops, and tugged on her pants playfully. Raina laughed, unbuttoning his shirt and working her hands inside to stroke his chest. Light brown eyes darkened with that hunger, almost impossible to resist now, his voice commanding and deep, "Besides, since you brought THAT up I'm going to have to punish you... so stand up and accept it, little girl..."

Firm hands wrapped around her hips and backside, pushing her off his lap. He unzipped her pants the rest of the way and peeled them off in one fluid motion. Taking her hand to steady her, he leaned over and urged her to step out of them. My underwear soon followed, and Raina stood vulnerably before him with her shirt open and hanging from her arms. For what seemed an inordinate span of time his eyes alone feasted on the sight before him, their heat scorching her skin and inflaming her own passion even more greatly.

Raina removed his hands from her hips, and stood back, her own gaze teasing. A slow smile came over his face, and he reached up for her. However Raina dodged around him and raced through the open studio, cold air fanning her bare skin, her feet pounding the floor.

"Ah, the chase is on," Gene laughed, lazily rising from the piano bench. Raina noticed the tightening in his jeans, and stopped to turn and regard him. On long legs, he strode toward her, and she playfully darted away, running in circles. Unfortunately she tripped over a guitar stand and had to catch herself on the stool before Raina crashed to the floor.

"Gotcha!" Gene laughed, grabbing her from behind and sweeping her up off her feet with a strange ease. Raina shrieked as he threw her playfully over his shoulder and gave her bare backside a gentle swat. Under her waist his shoulder rocked, while he carried her over to the sofa, and sat down, positioning her on his lap. Gazes locked, her body rubbing teasingly against him, the erotic distance of clothes rubbing her bare skin strangely thrilling.

Reaching under her Raina unbuckled his leather belt and unfastened his pants, reaching inside to do what he did to her. He threw his head back, contentedly savoring her fingers examining him. Half closed eyes again met her gaze, watching her expressions as he tracked hands up and down her back. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her onto him while thrusting up hard. It broke her concentration, her groan shattering the silence.

Raina buried her head in his shoulder, kissing his neck softly. Between her teeth, she took a fold of skin, stifling her cries in a soft but potent love bite. Slowly Gene worked her to her first orgasm, their bodies in synch with what the other wanted. Raina enjoyed his teasing, sighing as he stopped to let her catch her breath and savor her first climax. It was clear from the look in those brown eyes that he wanted her to enjoy this as much as he was.

Raina was glad for the IUD that would ensure some measure of protection against pregnancy. They said it was very reliable, and she knew that sometimes protection got in the way. Besides a few times with Mark, Gene had been her only partner. Still she whispered, "Didn't you forget something?"

"Mm yes,' Gene sighed, stopping. "Just a minute..."

"I'll get it for you," she said, reaching into his pants pocket and drawing out his wallet for what he wanted. Moving off she helped prepare him for what was to happen next. Soon he was back, working her to the place between pleasure and sensory overload, the fine tightrope walk we both struggled to master.

My heart pounded even faster when Raina heard someone knocking at the front door. Raina glanced anxiously down at Gene, who whispered, "Ignore it..."

"But..." she whispered. His tongue working into her mouth, squaring the sensation she felt below silenced her protests. Raina could tell he was holding off as long as he could, till now where he was struggling to finish before whomever it was intruded.

There was the rasping and jingle of keys, and the sound of something sliding into the lock. Fear flooded over her, soon to be expunged by Gene's harder thrusts. The first deadbolt clicked free, and Raina parted from the kiss to groan in protest. Then the second lock slowly rasped open with a labored scrape that set her teeth on edge. Another last lock, the doorknob, was undone by the time Gene's particularly last wicked sweet thrust impaled her, and he stiffened under her. So potent was the combination of her fear of being caught with her final orgasm that it pushed her over the edge.

"Gene are you.... Whoops!" came Stan's question. Raina heard the worlds through her pounding pulse, struggling to catch her breath as Raina recovered in Gene's arms.

Under her, he panted, and she buried her head in his chest with the embarrassment she felt. Raina heard a cough, and the sound of the door shutting quickly. Looking down at Gene, she felt mortified, but he had a slow smile on his face. He struggled valiantly to hide the laugh, and she groaned again.

"Oh GOD I'm dead!" Raina moaned.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but if you'd seen the look on Stan's face when he opened the door, you'd be laughing your ass off like I'm trying NOT to do..." Gene suddenly burst out laughing.

"Uh... what did he look like?" Raina asked, calming down.

"You REALLY want me to tell you?" Gene asked mischievously.

"I'm so embarrassed..."

"Why should you be?" Gene asked matter of fact. "After all it was ME you were screwing so why complain? I'm sure not... and it's something that's as NATURAL as anything else..."

"True," Raina laughed, unable to stop herself because she felt so awkward and required the release. "I think we should let him in, don't you? I'll just get myself decent first..."

"After all my hard work too," Gene teased as she got off of him and rushed off to retrieve her clothes. He moved into the restroom to clean up and help her get herself back together before answering the door.

***

Stan finally did enter when Gene opened the door for him, a copy of the Rolling Stone magazine in his hand. He flushed almost red when he saw her emerging from the side room, still buttoning her shirt again.

"I'm REALLLY sorry guys..."

"Don't worry,' Gene said. "So what's that you have there?"

"I found something VERY interesting Gene," Stan said, pushing past him and unrolling the newspaper to the want ads. "You know we placed an ad for drummers last week right? Well LOOK at this..."

Gene looked over his shoulder and saw the circled ad, muttering, "Drummer... 11 years experience... willing to do ANYTHING... hey... this looks promising..."

"I'll say. Man do you think?"

"Let's bring the guy in here and try him out," Gene nodded. "I wanna see how willing to do ANYTHING he is..."

***

"All right, give me MORE ladies... that's perfect... Liz... you get over here..."

Hot lights scalded Liz' skin. On her body, the sheath of synthetic fabric coaxed a new layer of sweat from her slender body.

Any moment now she would go mad. There was a sense of selling out, even though she knew the money was needed. Each time a picture was taken, a piece of her soul was stolen, only to be replaced when she sat behind the drum kit on stage. This was what her parents thought she did, modeling. Yet if they knew the reality...

"Lyd, get me some more shots to the side," Roberto instructed. The young assistant sighed and grabbed her 35-mm camera. Finally, the models heard the last shutter click, and Roberto's percussive clap. They released their poses and breathed once more.

"Good ladies, that's it for today. Stop by wardrobe and make sure you give your sizes for next shoot. And oh, be sure to check with Rita as you go out, to make sure we have your addresses right for sending payment..." Roberto called.

Lydia clicked the last picture of Liz for the day, and both women approached each other. Relief spread across her friend's face, and Lydia knew that at last Liz could begin to recover her true nature. It struck her as a strange contrast to see the hippie by night transform into a fashion symbol by day. Yet Liz slender form made her a natural for this sort of work.

"Another day of exploitation," Liz joked.

"Hey, didn't you say this was another portion of your drum set?" Lydia grinned.

"Speaking of, would you like to sit in on a practice tomorrow night?" Liz offered. "That is if you aren't answering to your great and powerful master and guru..."

"Please," Lydia groaned. "I still have to finish my project for Hard Edge class... I need a subject for my latest portfolio... it's halfway through the semester and I don't have a project focus..."

"Maybe you could solve two problems at once..."

"Kill two birds with one stone... sorry..." Lydia began, but cut herself off at Liz wincing at the animal comment. "Forgot..."

"Just for that, you get to help me disassemble my kit," Liz teased.

"Not before I snap the true you into two dimensions," Lydia answered. "So, how is it going... with the band? You told me you ladies ended up ditching the guys..."

"I finally convinced Trish to quit her boyfriend's group. They pretty much disbanded anyway. She's still dating him though... but she's paying her share of the rent, and he's allowed to stay over provided he keeps the hardcore stuff to a minimum."

"He's in a gang?" Lydia whispered.

"He's trying to get away. Goddess knows I've tried to keep Trish clear of it... but once you're in."

"I know. But think of the picture possibilities..." Lydia said, tossing her a towel. Both women entered the changing room, Lydia grabbing a pitcher of water and pouring Liz a glass on the way in.

"Yes..."

"How about Karen?"

"She's very happy, now that a certain individual has entered her life..."

"That mystery man of hers?" Lydia joked, handing the glass of water to Liz. Gratefully Liz took the glass and swigged a sizeable gulp.

"Indeed. Unfortunately her parents were NOT hospitable to the idea of an interfaith relationship, showing the bourgeoisie nature of their prejudices..."

"Ouch... I take it they didn't' like Stanley..."

"That would be right," Liz sighed. She reached up to unfasten her updo of hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulder again. Visibly she shifted from model to hippie by this action, her pose relaxing instantly as her hair dropped to its resting-place.

"So she's staying with you now?"

"For the time being," Liz said. "We rented another place when Ray moved in with Gene... and Trish and her boyfriend are splitting the rent with me. But when Karen moves in. that should help. It's rather cramped now..."

"Well you can always crash at my place," Lydia suggested. "We have room you know..."

"I would consider it an option," Liz smiled. "A rehearsal studio with an open door for Trish's boyfriend and his friends is far from tranquility..."

"I'm serious. I mean you're always going on about how Trish and her boyfriend get on your nerves partying late. And it's not the cleanest place... and besides, my husband and I need a roommate anyway to help keep up the rent on our house. How about it? I mean since you ARE dating his brother..."

"I'd be happy to co habit with you... considering that Trish and her boyfriend are again co habiting. And that Karen is also sharing the space..."

"Well we can see how it works... or else I know of a few houses in Brooklyn that we could rent... and we could all be together... just us girls on the first two floors, and then Trish and her boyfriend can have their own love nest..."

"Sometimes the other guys stay around as well," Liz nodded. "But the rent is all we can afford on present financial resources... we actually have started having complaints from the neighbors..."

"Man."

"Ray and I checked into a new studio. We've actually been sharing rehearsal space with another band... and equipment. When we want to play during the evening," Liz said, stepping behind the changing screen. She shed her dress, grabbing her peasant blouse and broomstick skirt. She emerged, stepping into her mules, and taking her embroidered purse again.

"Headed that way now?" Lydia nodded, knowing her friend's routine well by now. Both had met on the job, Lydia as an assistant to Roberto, and Liz as a model.

"Definitely. Would you care to come now or hang later?" Liz asked.

"I'll tag along now. Gimmie five minutes to wrap up things here, and we can get a cab there..."

"Certainly," Liz nodded. She watched Lydia leave, rushing out to finish her myriad tasks before the studio closed for the day. The prospect of having her own place from the rest of the girls was intriguing, especially since they tended to get on each other's nerves if they were in each others faces too much. After all, Ray shared a place with her current fling, and since Trish moved her rock star wannabe boyfriend in, it had been very rowdy. Secretly she hoped Trish would ditch him, not because of him, but because of the company, he kept. The vibes sometimes made it impossible to meditate and compose in the small studio loft they rehearsed and slept in. Most of her jamming was accomplished in the larger studio that two men rented out, the two men she had first met when they moved Ray out of her apartment.

She hoped they would find their drummer soon, and fast. Time was wasting...

"By the way, there's someone I want you to meet," said Liz. "You know I've been going on about my band, right?"

"Sure," said Lydia. "But I've never heard you guys play..."

"Well, we've got a gig. And I was thinking you and your husband might want to come... considering your brother in law's gonna be there..."

"Well he's got some business," she said. "It's kind of pressing..."

"Can't you guys at least stop by, for his brother's sake..."

"So THAT's where my brother in law will be this Friday," Lydia rested a hand on her hip. "Okay, just give me the name of the club and we'll TRY to stop by... but no promises..."

**********************************

Gene and Raina were putting themselves back together when Stan walked back in. There was an awkward silence that was broken by Stan's cough, "Uh, so... are we gonna call this guy, Gene?"

"Might as well give it a shot, Stanley," Gene agreed. "But where the hell do we meet him? I dunno about bringing him here just yet... maybe a club where he's familiar with..."

"You could have him come to see our show," Raina suddenly announced.

"Your show Hon?" Gene asked.

"Did you forget Sweet Revenge has a gig?" Raina asked sweetly. "This Friday night..."

"Wow... really," Stanley scratched his head. "I didn't realize..."

"Where's the club?" Gene asked. Raina reached into her jean pocket and pulled out the flier she had assembled, along with the band logo that Stan had helped Karen to design.

"In the village," Raina smiled. "How about it guys?"

"Cool," Stanley said, scratching his head. "What I don't get is why Karen didn't tell me..."

"Well we weren't sure where you were in finding a drummer and well," Raina explained.

"Sounds good. I'll give this guy a call and see if he's got the right stuff first, and then we'll go from there," Gene nodded. "I wanna see what he's made of, and if he has the balls to do what it takes..."

At these words, Stanley rolled his eyes and Raina said, "So you're going to conduct a prescreening interview then by phone?"

"That's the professional way of putting it, sweets..." Gene laughed, leaning over to give Raina a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I thought you were professional..." she joked back.

*******************************

Liz crammed her van with the assistance of their roadies, namely her two friends who were former members of Mystery Machine. They had helped schlep their stuff at good many other performances, and insisted we could repay the favor by helping them set up he following night. In addition, they had the help of Liz' new boyfriend, whom she'd been dating for about a month, and Trish's boyfriend Maxwell, with whom they always wondered when she would next break up and reconcile.

"Where do you want this?" Max asked Trish.

"Over there," she joked, as he restrung her stratocaster. Max winked and set it to the side of her telecaster.

"Don't forget Karen's," Liz reminded her. Just then, Karen strode onstage in faded jeans and a T-shirt, carrying her case.

"Lemmie get that," Liz' boyfriend offered, grabbing the case from her despite her protest.

"Now wait," she said.

"Let a man do his duty, little lady," he winked, hauling it up the stairs. He asked where she wanted it, and she pointed to the stand by the drum kit, which Liz was rapidly assembling.

Just then, someone shouted, "LIZ!"

"Yes?" she asked, snapping her head up from behind her kit. A bouncer rushed up to the stage, his necklace bouncing as he jogged.

"There's someone here who says she knows you... at the back door..."

"Lydia?" Liz asked, rushing off the stage after her.

"Don't be gone TOO long, babe," her boyfriend blew her a kiss.

"I wont. What time does your brother get here?"

"He's mellowing at the bar," he returned. "I'll go haul his ass up here if I have to. Something about meeting some guys who want him in their band... or something... they were supposed to meet him here..."

"Band?" Liz asked.

"Yeah. He told 'em he'd be here... hey PETE!" he yelled, rushing off the stage as Liz rushed to find her friend. Leaping off the stage, her boyfriend dashed over to the bar, already serving its solitary customer.

"You mean he's HERE?" Liz asked, surprised.

"Yeah, in this club..."

"What a coincidence!" Liz shook her head.

"What, I'm just getting warmed up here, bro," Peter rolled his eyes. "Can't a guy drink a damn beer in PEACE?"

"I thought you'd be drowning yourself in this. What's the matter, chickenshit about meeting two new business contacts?"

"Screw you!" he shot back at his brother.

"Try waiting outside," Maurice said, coming up to join them with a guitar case in hand.

"Hey, I've been LOOKING for that!" someone protested, poking him on the shoulder. He turned around to look at the slender blond in tight bell-bottoms that had just been onstage.

"Well hello there girly, what's cookin?" he asked.

"Gimmie Ray's base before she kicks your butt," Karen grinned.

"Gimme a hug first, babe," said Maurice.

"Enough making out. We gotta SCHEDULE guys," Liz boyfriend barked at them.

"Go figure, he's on the job one day and HE's in charge?" Karen joked.

"Hey Karen, meet my brother... Peter... this is the loveliest woman to front a band... Karen Valentine..."

"Nice to meet ya, little girl," Peter nodded, shaking her hand with a firm squeeze. Quite a grip, she nodded. Maurice, another friend of Liz's boyfriend had suggested him as another helping hand.

"Guys, let's GO!" Liz called, from halfway in the club. "We need this set up, like NOW!"

"Hang on honey!"

"Better listen to your woman, bro," Peter laughed at him. "The skirt's showing YOU who's wearing the freaking PANTS around here..."

"Shaddup!" his brother shot back. "You go meet your hot shot future gig man and THEN we'll see who's on top..."

"Why don't you wait outside?" Maurice asked Peter, who sipped at his Heineken.

"When I'm supposed to meet this woman my brother was pushing at me? What kind of a guy would that make me. I can't keep the lady waiting..." he protested. "Liz, where is this mystery woman already?"

"ON her way," smiled Liz. "Hey, Lydia... come over here..."

"Hang on," he said, glancing at himself. Satisfied he was all ready; he slipped off the barstool and stood ready to meet the woman who joined them. In fact there were two women, one sheathed in leather miniskirt, jacket and fishnet tights with stiletto heeled boots.

"Ouch, who's the biker chick?" Maurice grinned.

"Maurice, DRUMSET, now," Liz urged, grabbing his shoulder.

"There you are," Ray laughed, moving up to Liz. "You might have TOLD us this place was a hole in the wall..."

"Lydia, c'mere," Peter laughed, holding his hand out to his young wife. She joined him, grinning.

"Why didn't you TELL me this was the place you were meeting those business contacts?" Lydia asked him, punching his arm.

"Hey, how can I figure on it, honey?" he asked her, and then turned to the new woman in leather. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"Ray MacIntyre," Ray nodded, extending her hand and shaking Peter's. "Don't mind me, but I got to run..."

"Later," Peter nodded. She walked past Maurice and whacked him on the backside.

"C'mon don't' just stand there and look pretty. I need a bit of help with my keyboard..."

"Sure thing, hot stuff," he grinned, and rushed after her. "Later Pete..."

"We don't go on for another thirty minutes, 'said Liz.

"Not to the nice stuff, but I gotta meet with some guys first, Lyd," Peter said apologetically as she settled down at the bar next to him. Liz remained for a moment, at a discreet distance.

"Well I can wait backstage with my gal friends," she said. "Not a problem."

"I can stop for one drink though," he said, hesitating for a moment. She smiled and let him pull out a barstool for her.

"I'd like that," Lydia nodded. "Just let me know when you want to head out..."

"I'll let you know, all right," he winked, and slapped the bar counter. "Hey, a drink for my lady!"

***************

"How's this, Ray?" Maurice asked.

"Perfect. Now, just put the bass over there... and we'll be good to go, Hon," she instructed. Grinning, Maurice watched her briefly as she leaned over to adjust the microphone stand, then straighten up. He quickly shifted his gaze back to the keyboard immediately in front of him.

"Admiring the view?" she laughed.

"You know it, good looking'" he flirted back. She stood up and gave him a healthy smack on the arm.

"Stop the flirting and start the setup already," Trish called from the other side of the stage. "They're yelling at us to get outta here..."

"We're almost done sweetheart, don't' lose your shirt," Max said to her.

"Wouldn't YOU like to see that," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't tempt me, babe," he shot back.

On the drum riser, Liz finally set her tambourine alongside the shaker on the black velvet covered music stand. She gave a smile to the new man in her life, which busied him with setting up a wind chime next to the other high hat cymbal.

Karen's guitar was strapped across her chest as she fiddled with knobs on the amplifier. Trish was also plugged in, while Max twiddled with the distortion settings. Suddenly through the chatter and cigarette, smoke sliced a shot as she riffed her warm-up. Karen worked a chord overtop. From the left of the stage, Ray chimed a few chords from the organ, which had hummed into life.

"Far out," Maxwell gave Trish the thumbs up. There were a couple of shouts from Maurice, then from the other two guys who moved cases out of the way, trotting out the back door of the club to the van outside to get the girls wardrobe.

"LADIES!" the owner barked, waving his hands. "You ready?"

The sound ground down, and Karen strode to the front of the stage, leaning over. Liz and Raina joined her, Maurice rushing over. Raina looked to Karen, and they nodded.

"So?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're all good to blast off whoever," Karen nodded.

"They're all set," Maurice nodded.

"Get your girls to the room and set up. You're on first, so make it good," said the manager. "And don't' forget to clear for the next band on..."

"Got it," Maurice nodded. "Okay ladies, go make yourselves beautiful..."

"For you, anything," Raina winked.

"See you in forty five," Karen added. "And don't lay it on too thick, Mo."

"Leave the schmoozing to me," Maurice laughed. Blowing him a kiss, Karen strode off, after Rayna who threw a wink to their manager. Trish leapt over the stage, grabbed by Maxwell who was already in the pit before the riser.

"Hey?" Liz asked Maurice, before following. "Where's Lydia?"

"Chatting it up at the bar with Petey, where else?" Maurice grinned.

"Looks like they don't' want to be interrupted, sweets," her boyfriend leaned over and whispered in Liz ear. "Don't worry, I'll bring her on back while he's having his... 'Interview'"

"Allow me to make sure he's behaving himself," Maurice joked. "At least while you gals are onstage. But I can't guarantee after..."

"Get outta here," Liz rolled her eyes.

"C'mon... let's get you ready," her boyfriend grinned.

"Thanks lover," she said, catching him in a hot kiss. Maurice waved at them as he leapt down and went to join the couple at the bar.

*********************

"So you guys met in school, huh?" Peter asked. "You had told me about it, but I had forgotten..."

"Yeah, and we've kept in touch since. When Liz worked at the modeling agency, she got me a job in their photography department as an assistant.

"Sounds like a good thing going on, going to that night school, sweetheart," Peter commented, sipping at his beer. Tapping his pack of smokes on the bar top, he extracted one and place it between his lips. There came a quick snap of a bic lighter, and a curl of smoke wafted over the bar top.

"Smoke, love?" he asked, offering one to her. She nodded, and smiled as he lifted the lighter to her.

"I'm amazed Liz and your brother have managed to survive a month without killing each other!" Lydia said, taking Peter's hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Good ol' Maurice, he sure knows the matchmaking biz," Peter answered, resting his cigarette on the side of the ashtray. He picked up the sandwich from the plate before him and took a good bite, washing it down with a swig of beer.

"I'd say our guy gets around. Thinks he's gonna discover the next Beatles or something like that... you know?" she sighed. "Well, you think these two guys are going to help you find a gig, honey?"

"God love my brother. Loves hanging with the bands and all. But he hasn't done crud for finding me any bands to play in. Everyone's into this rock n' roll groove now... they don't' need jazz drummers..."

"Well drumming is drumming, sweetheart. You can adapt, right? I mean Liz doesn't dig fashion modeling but it's how she's getting by. And you think I want to spend the rest of my life kissing up to my photography boss?" Lydia asked.

"True," Peter nodded, leaning back and listening to Lydia's frankness. "That's why I'm here, I guess. Something different. Funny thing lately. Nothing's been coming together, but somehow I just feel like something's going to break through. Sure it could just be another night of some clowns asking me questions... but what have we got to loose... hell. The night's not that bad. I mean, a free meal from my bro, and the company of my pretty wife. Who can beat that?"

"Thanks," Lydia blushed again. He rested a hand on hers, giving it a friendly squeeze.

"So, wanna tag along while I wait for these guys?" he asked.

"Did you talk to them on the phone?" Lydia asked him.

"Yeah. Some guy named Gene answered. Strange piece of work. Asked me if I'd be willing to do anything... like my ad."

"Huh," Lydia laughed. "Go figure."

"Well he said to wait for him and his partner outside. Meet them by eight. And looking at the time..." and here he took Lydia's wrist and looked at her watch. "That gives me five minutes to finish this beer and stake 'em out."

"You wouldn't mind company I take it," Lydia smiled. "Even if it's band business."

"I wouldn't have asked if I did, little girl. Together through better or worse, right?" Peter smiled at her. He took a last swig to empty his beer, and hopped off the barstool. Offering his arm, he stood by her side. She smiled back, and slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow, feeling the denim of his bluejean jacket.

Maurice glanced at them as they left, grinning. Ever since he had first met the girls in their time of Mystery Machine, he'd acted like an unofficial manager. Even when they had gotten a deal with a local studio and a local recording company through an official manager, he had been there to advise. He'd known Maxwell, Trish's boyfriend from Mystery Machine, and had even had his own band for a time. Now between opportunities himself, he had volunteered to help Liz and Trish form their new group, independent of the disbanded Mystery Machine. He had served as their final bassist, quitting after the girls had pulled out, and an argument between him and the other remaining male members had turned the deal sour.

He had known Peter and his brother from the old neighborhood, a place he now tended to frequent less and less. For a time they'd dropped off the radar, till the club scene had brought him back into contact, and they exchanged info about the new happening scenes in the village. For a time, he'd known Peter to be out of work, through his brother. When he had booked the girls to play here a month ago, he'd run into Peter's brother, and Liz happened to be along for the ride to scope out the place. An instant spark flashed between them, blossoming into a quick and fast romance of passion. Unexpected, because they seemed total opposites, Maurice laughed.

Ray and Karen were two wild women. With a lot of willpower, and raw talent that was nicely shaping into good sounding music. Neither the siren screamers nor the crooning Supremes, but somewhere between the spirit of Grace Slick, and Janice Joplin, their repertoire was growing fast to include a range of melodies and styles. People were starting to pay attention to Sweet Mystery, now going as Sweet Revenge, on the local bar circuit anyway.

********************************

"So, you spoke to this guy GENE on the phone, huh?" Lydia asked Peter, as they stepped into the night air. "You're SURE it wasn't a gag?"

"Yeah. Sounded like he was full of himself," said peter with a laugh. "But hell, if he gives me a job, what do I care?"

"Did he say what he even LOOKED like?" Lydia asked.

"Some vague description," Peter answered. They moved out from the club away, standing under the street lamp, which cast an orange glow upon them in the rush of New York's encroaching night. Already patrons had gathered at the entrance, glancing at the fliers and the chalkboard scrawled with the lineup for that night.

"Hmm, Sweet Revenge looks good under the other names," Lydia commented. "Don't you think?"

"Hmm, weird name, but hell, let's hear what they should like anyway," Peter chuckled. "Now... if you see any guys with long dark hair, lemme know..."

"Uh, that's HOW many people in New York?" Lydia chuckled. She stood with her back to the lamp, dodging playfully out of the way of Peter's outstretched hand. He gave a small smile, his dimples puckering cutely in those cheeks.

"Pretty damn good amount," Peter said. Lydia shivered a bit, and rubbed her arms.

"Cold?" he asked her.

"I left my jacket in the van," she laughed. Peter slipped off his jacket and held it up for her, revealing his T-shirt and vest underneath. He draped it over her shoulder and rubbed her arms through it to warm her up, standing to one side. Around them the wind whipped as a bus pulled to a stop, and disgorged a line of passengers nearby. Peter pulled her out of the way of the crowd that was starting to gather.

A yellow cab pulled around the block, and there came some scuffling as it tried to park unsuccessfully. Someone leapt out, and the cab screeched away. Peter thought nothing of it, concentrating on shielding Lydia from the rush of people that ebbed and flowed. Where had they come from all of a sudden?

"Whoops," Peter joked as she was pressed between him and the light pole. "Damn New York night life..."

"I'm not complaining," she whispered back. She loved the feel of his muscular arms closed protectively around her, his body solid and strong next to her. He was smaller, and powerfully built, not too much fat, but a nice amount of muscle, hard against her body.

"Good," he nodded.

"Uh Pete, what about your meeting?" she asked.

"Damn, forgot about that for a moment. Where the HELL are those guys?"

"Why don't we wait here and find out," Lydia whispered.

"I wonder what we can do to pass the time..." Peter pretended to wonder, a mischievous twinkle present in his brown eyes.

"I am SURE you can think of something," Lydia whispered. Leaning over, Peter took her in his arms and kissed her.

****