Disclaimer: Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons and KISS are actual persons, and they are property of themselves. The portrayal of them in this story is fictitious, and is the work of a fan, for entertainment purposes only, not to demean or harm the people mentioned. Other characters are copyright by Trynia Merin. My thanks to Eisencookie, Ms Starchild and Ilovepaul66 for help with this story!

"For God's sake, Simmons, I've never seen you this nervous for one of OUR shows" Paul teased him as they waited for the limo outside their hotel.

"Damn..." Gene sighed, nervously pacing and glancing at his watch.

"They're just kids. They'll do fine," Paul reassured him. Resplendent in their black wool coats, one could claim they were in fact related by blood in their choice of outerwear. Except Gene's liberal use of the all black outfit contrasted with Paul's usual tan flat fronted pants and white shirt under an Armani blazer. Paul readjusted the green scarf in the neck of his wool coat against the quickening wind generated by the onrushing traffic. Both had their hair loose about their shoulders, and shivered as the night chill caressed their respective scalps.

Gene whipped out his cell phone just as the limousine pulled up. He grumbled, "It's about DAMN TIME!"

Apologetically Chris leapt out of the front of the limo, next to Steve, and quickly opened the passenger door for them. He panted, "Sorry Mr. Simmons, Mr. Stanley..."

"Let's just go," Gene waved dismissively, bending over double to crawl into the all leather interior. Paul climbed in after his friend, stretching out catlike on the side seat opposite the TV, while Gene adjusted himself on the seat in the rear of the limousine. Behind them, Chris closed the door, and dashed around to the passenger side to climb in next to Steve before they lurched away from the curb.

"It's going to be strange watching them up there," Paul commented. He punched buttons on the remote control of the television, hoping to catch their interview on the evening newsmagazine.

Gene sat pensively, shoving his cell phone back into his coat pocket. He muttered, "I feel like a jerk making Mandi stay behind, but she wanted to catch up on some work tonight. Really I don't think she wanted to come..."

"If Julia were still here, I don't think she'd be too nuts about it either," said Paul sadly. "Maybe it's for the best..."

"Where too, Mr. Stanley?" Steve, the limo driver asked, sliding down the glass.

"Roxy," Gene said, passing him an address scribbled on a page from his planner. "Address is right there. Put some lead into it..."

"Right Mr. Simmons," Steve nodded, depressing the button to slide up the opaque partition once more.

In their cocoon of luxury, Paul glanced at the shops tracking by on either side of the street. Busses temporarily interrupted his view, or the occasional SUV or Taxi. They heard the vibrating from a small red jaguar whose stereo was turned up to volume 10 at the next traffic light.

"There's something very familiar about you and I and a seedy bar in Queens," Paul chuckled.

"What's the name of the damn place?" Paul said, fumbling for a note in his pocket.

Gene pulled out a small flier and shoved it into his hand. "Some dump called the Roxy... in the village..."

"I think it's next to that strip joint, the Pussycat Club, that keeps getting busted for hookers," Paul chuckled.

"Figures," Gene laughed.

".... Or so my mom says," he laughed, "She feels me in on the dirt. She wanted to come tonight, but dad's not feeling well."

"Well my mom would have come, but she has mahjong," Gene laughed. "Always has to keep up playing wit the other girls..."

"I certainly hope you weren't a TOTAL cad and at least had Steve pick you up some flowers for Jeannie," Paul teased him.

"Got them right here," Gene said, pointing to a wrapped bouquet sitting in one of the drink holders, soaking in a cup of water. "She'll love 'em..."

"By the way..." Paul said thoughtfully. "I know this is asking alot, but go easy on Elliott, OK?"

Gene sighed and shook his head, "How did I know you'd bring THAT issue up?"

"You've always intimidated him and that was BEFORE he was sleeping with your daughter."

Gene glared at him after this comment, asking in a low voice, "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, the kids need a break. Go gentle on him."

"Back up... what was the part you said about sleeping with?" Gene asks. "I didn't hear that did I?"

Paul put up his hand, motioning for a moment of calm before the steam poured out Gene's ears. From the way Gene's jaw clenched he could tell his friend was about to explode. "I don't know any more than you do, but facts are facts. They left with each other and haven't been seen in 2 days."

"Figures," Gene muttered. "Fucking figures..."

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, especially seeing the eyes they were making at each other when they left the pizza place."

"I was afraid of that..." he sighed, crossing his legs and shifting forward in the seat.

"Besides, I've given Elliott the condom lecture before. He knows all about being responsible, and being a gentleman."

"Yeah," Gene muttered. "A REAL gentleman... RIGHT. There better not be some baby floating by anytime in the near future... And if he IS sleeping with her, I'm going to have to have a little CHAT with him."

Paul groaned, "WHAT are you going to say to him? Do you think there's anything you CAN say to change their minds?"

"I can try can't I?" Gene asked.

"Don't forget what you've always said about your OWN mom, and how she let you live your life and never judged."

"Thanks a lot Paul," Gene grumbled. They said little else as the limo threaded its way through the maze of streets that comprised Manhattan.

***

When they finally reached a run down section of queens, Gene gave a sudden grunt of familiarity. He put his hand to his head, muttering, "I don't believe it..."

"Don't believe what?"

"You mean you DON'T remember?" Gene plied him. "This looks TOO damn familiar... the Pussycat Club? How could you of all people forget? Especially with that damn diner up the street?"

"A diner... so what?"

"Well don't' you remember the night that you and I discovered that certain girlfriends of ours were moonlighting at the Cat club? I believe it was the selfsame club where you and I discussed business with the Brats..."

"Holy shit," Paul combed his hand through his hair, so part of it stood a bit on end. "You're shitting me!"

"No way..." Gene pointed to the strip joint sign. Paul grabbed the flier and glanced over the address again, shaking his head.

"Damn... what a coincidence... this is just too freaking cosmic..."

"There WAS an old moviehouse beside the strip joint, and it was called Roxy's..." Gene said. Clearly, the neon sign, which sputtered spastically with some reminiscence of its glory days, was barely hanging on like the rest of the structure. Comprised of art deco thirties architecture, it rose defiantly from the trash littered street, just next to the blue and white blinking cat two blocks up from it with the ladies barely nude in their lit up poster boxes out front.

Gene noticed the line of teenyboppers in their bell-bottomed pants and tight tops lining up at the door before a less then convinced bouncer. Young men with buzz cuts and goatees tugged stocking caps over their ears, near young ladies with micro mini skirts and platform sandals, shivering in the winter air. However it seemed most were entering without too much incident. Gene wondered where they were parking before he realized just up the street was a fenced in vacant lot that said 5.00 all Nite parking. Cars pulled up under the movie entrance, where the bouncer stood, to disgorge their occupants, and the vehicle would then proceed to the vacant lot where the unlucky driver would park and walk back two blocks.

"Let us off before the titty bar," Paul grinned. "We don't want to attract TOO much attention..."

"Perfect," Gene laughed ironically.

"I'm not saying that Jeannie and Elliott are a GREAT idea. I'm just saying, go easy on the boy," Paul said.

"Yeah, yeah right, Stanley, but that wasn't quite the SAME... when it's your OWN kids," Gene muttered.

"We'll fit RIGHT in, Geno," he winked as he prepared to get out of the limo. They crawled out of their luxurious cocoon into the cracked, broken down neighborhood that had rushed out of their long distant past. Even the patterns of cracks in the sidewalk seemed familiar to Gene. Except he didn't recall a CVS down the way. It had been a Woolworth's back then. Also, the Dollar Store and the all night Laundromat seemed vaguely familiar, even if their management and prices had shot up astronomically from what he last remembered.

Steve and Chris disappeared around the corner with the limo, and Chris climbed out of the limo in plainclothes, walking a few paces behind them as he usually did. Paul paid no mind to the other two security guards, also planted in the crowd who moved up to walk near Gene and Paul as if they were part of their little group. It never hurt to be too careful. Dan and Andre seemed to almost blend in with the thirtysomething patrons right in line with the teenagers.

"ID's please," the bouncer said to Gene and Paul. "Seventeen to party, 21 to drink..."

"Oh come on they're legit," the other bouncer laughed. Gene tossed a few twenties at them and they all filed into the pounding pulsating thrust of cacophony spilling onto the sidewalk.

He saw the mainstage was set up from the dance floor, occupied by knots of teens clapping and jamming. ON the second level, where Gene and Paul had entered were the tables, illuminated by small converted oil lamps. Flaked and peeling paint was apparent, but the moviehouse fixtures were covered in fresh gilt paint and stucco, giving an anachronistic feel to the place. At the back was the bar, where a flash of a plastic bracelet would differentiate between a beer and a soft drink for the thirsty patrons.

"You want to sit up front and glare at Elliott?" Paul chuckled.

"There's a table there," Gene pointed to one right by the railing that separated them from the dance floor. Paul walked over and pulls out a chair, surveying the bar. They wandered past the forest of tables, partly occupied, and go toward the front.

"Damn, what is it with kids? They want to make more fucking holes in their bodies or what?" Gene teased as he sat down. Thankfully it was freshly washed. Andre and Chris took a table nearby, blending into the throng.

"This ought to be an adventure," Paul smiled cheerily as he glanced at the band list on the flier in his hand. "Hmm, lets see... this one's called morning wood... quick wet dream..."

"And Crash, Bang, Smash?" Gene chuckled.

"Quick wet dream RULES!" a kid yelled as he rushed past.

"That's them" Paul groaned. "CBS."

"Ouch," Gene laughed. "Tell me it's a working name."

"This coming from a guy who's a former member of Bullfrog Bheer?" Paul teased.

"Nice coat dudes!" a young waitress passing by their table smiled. "Hey, I'm Wendy. You gentlemen want something to drink?"

"I thought it was self serve, sweetie," Gene winked, admiring her shapely long legs enclosed in nude stockings.

"Well for those of you who like to sit down, we do like to make you feel at home," Wendy winked at Gene.

"Any way you can accommodate me is fine, doll," Gene winked.

"How about something to drink?" she asked.

"Coffee for me... and you Stanley?"

"I'll have some wine... if that's all right with the management," Paul winked at her.

"We've got some Chablis and Merlot," she said, glancing at her list. "Don't get a lot of requests for wine..."

"Chablis is great," Paul smiled as she took their order and wandered away, threading her way to the next table. He muttered to Gene under his breath, "Been too long since we've played crappy places like this, huh?"

"Yeah," Gene laughed.

At the table next to them, a girl with short bobbed hair and multiple facial piercing watched the band onstage intently. Paul winked at her and leaned close to ask, "So, what did we miss, baby?"

"OH," she winked. "Quick Wet Dream's halfway through the set, Hun. Stick around... cause CBS is next..."

"Thanks sweetie," Paul smiled, and turned back to Gene. He was thankful that they had enacted the clean air rule in New York recently, banning smoking in all indoor clubs and bars.

"Vocals are terrible," Paul muttered to Gene. He tapped his foot a bit and looks up to the ceiling.

"Bassist can't count worth crap," Gene nodded.

"Sound system, if you call it that, sucks, frankly," Paul further added. Wendy returned with their drinks, and Paul drowned his impatience in a rich glass of wine. He was glad the drinks were tasty at any rate. Gene poured two creamers into his coffee, and tossed some sugar into it before taking a small sip and regarding Quick Wet Dream's throbbing clangor. Clearly, they were visible to the band, for Gene noticed the attractive young bassist turning around several times to shake her fanny in their general direction.

Finally, the band ended, and the curtains squealed shut. Paul exhaled deeply, draining his glass to the halfway point in relief. House music replaced the live band set, POD with "I'm So Alive..."

Gene chuckled at Paul's expression, knowing his friend was very relieved the music had finally ended. From the way in which Paul had shifted periodically to cross and uncross his legs or finger the stem of his wineglass, it had been excruciating.

"Think their bass player was staring at you," Paul quipped to Gene.

"Hmm," Gene laughed.

"They're a definite NO, if they ever contact us," Paul said firmly.

"Aww Hun you some bigtime producer?" the girl at the next table asked.

"Uh, who wants to know," Paul winked, a bit distracted.

"Well the NEXT band will bury them," she nodded. "CBS has played here at least three times before, and they're the bomb..."

"Of course they're the best" he smiled at her. "My son's the lead singer."

"Really?" she asked. "You're as dreamy as he is... man..."

Gene snickered as Paul's eyebrows rose in a 'who me' innocent look. The girl continued to gush, her mouth a round O like her eyes as she put one hand before it and groaned, "OH my god... he's something ELSE!"

"He's the young stud. I'm just yesterday's news," Paul winked flirtatiously.

"Mmm, you age well, Mister!" she winked back. Paul tipped his glass to her.

"Can we buy you a drink, missy?' Gene smiled charmingly at her.

"I'd love you to, but I'm only 20," she pouted, pointing to her pink under 21 bracelet..."

"I'm legal in ALLL 50 states," Paul purred at her.

"C'mon humor him," Gene winked. "Want a coke?"

"Well I guess I could indulge you," she smiled. Paul flagged down Wendy and put a Ten into her hand.

"Whatever the young lady wants," he whispered to her. "She's a fan..."

"OHHH no!" she pouted. "His SON... but I'm getting a nice view of his old man..."

Wendy grinned, "I'll be right back!"

Paul grinned at her, then winks at Gene. Soon Wendy returned with the girl's drink and she clinked her glass with Gene and Paul before her boyfriend gave her arm an annoyed tug.

"Well done, my friend," Gene said to Paul. "Anything to keep you from bitching about how you don't get noticed... and you've still got it..."

"ME from bitching? I'm small potatoes next to your sorry ass when my son comes out here." Paul pointed his finger. "I TOLLLLLLLLD you to stay away from my dauuuuuuuuughter..." he mock whined for added emphasis.

"Shuddup," Gene muttered at him. Paul's eyes glistened, as he loved to tease Gene. They looked up at the stage as the announcer stopped the house music. Intently Paul rested his chin on his hand and waited to see how they would be introduced. He could feel his heart beating quickly as he anticipated the unknown of his son's appearance.

"Everybody, I wanna introduce a house favorite!" the young announcer piped in. "They're young, they're live and they're LOUD!"

***

Up onstage Elliot fiddled with his guitar strap. He shivered with nervous anticipation, knowing that perhaps his first view of the audience might reveal his biggest critic yet, his own father. In this arena, he was as much fair game as any other band that had gone on before.

"Shit," Elliott muttered with nervousness. "What if I suck..."

"Easy honey," Jeannie urged him, climbing behind the Yamaha synth, its twin keyboards to one side, and her bass guitar on the other in its rack.

He moved over in the dark, almost tripping on his own shoes to kiss her. Lights dimmed from behind the curtain, and they heard Keith firing up the amps with a loud buzz. Jan clicked her sticks and Elliot nodded to Kyle, who started a low whining buzz like a mosquito. Jeannie resounded with a bass chord, as Jan whooshed up the low cymbal.

Curtains parted, lights blasted them in the face, and they ripped into their first song. Like clockwork Jeannie's face clicked into performance pose, and Elliott surveyed the audience as he waited to deliver the opening lines. He danced sideways in a tripping fashion to the microphone to sing his first line. As his eyes swept the second tier where the tables were, he met the dark eyes of Paul. His voice cracked in the second line, and he smiled nervously. Arms crossed over his chest, Paul put on a poker face and watched them as they banged and gyrated through their opener.

However Elliot noticed Gene's wide eyed expression suddenly shoot in Jeannie's direction. It must have just registered with him that his own DAUGHTER was playing bass.

Back at the table, Gene tugged Paul's sleeve and whispered fiercely,

"Paul is that..."

"Hmmm?" he turned to him, distracted.

"The keyboardist!" Gene hissed. "It's... HER!"

"Surprise surprise," Paul commented, nodding as he noticed Jeannie onstage. Shortly Gene must have mentally blocked the possibility that his daughter could be performing onstage. Yet there she was, large as life and coolly swaying in time with the other band members. Elliot suddenly missed a cue, and the lead, the skinny as a rail Kyle stumbled in his shot.

Overtop the rough transition they heard the keyboard slip the lead line. Kyle quickly recovered and razzed back his riff to answer. Elliot girded under with a cutting stroke.

"Your daughter looks HOT" Paul teased.

"Shit," Gene groaned. "She could have fucking told me she was playing!"

"No wonder my son's in love," Paul chuckled. He had to admit Jeannie looked very good up there next to his son, and certainly whatever rough spots he heard glaring in the mess of the first song, she had smoothed them over far better then he could have anticipated.

Kyle strutted up to the mike, and shouted, "Our bass players' sick tonight, so we gotta treat for you. This hot LA chick is gonna sing our next song... And it's called GETTING enough is not enough!"

Elliott looks at Gene for the first time, then looks away quickly.

Gene glanced up as his daughter puts on the bass, and plugged into the amplifier. She turned her back to the audience, waiting as she strummed a few notes.

Abruptly she clapped her hands, shouting, "ONE two THREE HIT IT!"

Jan clicked her sticks and started into a loud beat. Jeannie swayed her hips, starting a baseline over Jan's drumming. Paul turned to Gene and raised an eyebrow in approval. She suddenly whirled around, tilting her bass up a bit in a very familiar Demon like move. Dark hair cascaded around her face as she whipped her head from side to side.

Every eye riveted to the movements of her body, and when she sang, they listened to her alto strains. Raspy and strong, she delivered in a combination of Alanis Morisette and Stevie Nicks, with her own twist.

***

Riveted by Jeannie's performance, Paul didn't' notice two ladies entering from the bar halfway through the second song. When he glanced back to see Gene's reaction, his eyes registered the tall blonde with long flowing curls of blonde, in a ruffled blouse with a low V cut neck and knee high floral skirt. Her shapely legs ended in platform sandals, her blue eyes scanning the club for an empty table. A spark of familiarity jerked Paul when he saw the curves and lines of her face that he knew so achingly well. Next to her the woman in T-shirt, sturdy jeans and a bluejean vest brushed auburn short hair out of her face and pointed to a table where they could sit. Both women appeared to be in their late forties; their faces lined pleasantly with cares. AT least the auburn woman, shorter and large busted seemed to have aged gracefully. Yet, her companion had stepped out of Paul's memories, frozen like amber and locked tightly away.

He sank down in his chair and gasped, "Holy FUCK, Gene!"

"Yeah, she can sing, dam it," Gene muttered, thinking he meant Jeannie who continued her loud dialogue with an enthralled audience of teen and thirty somethings alike. "That's my girl..."

"You have GOT to be shitting me, it cant be her..." Paul said, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"What are you on about Eisen," Gene asked, noticing Paul's olive skin had blanched sheet white. Around them everyone screamed and hollered as Jeannie stole the show, and finished her song.

"You would not fucking believe who just walked in," Paul said, stunned.

"Oh man who?" Gene asked.

"Karen... and Raina... Oh my GOD" he muttered.

"WHAT?" Gene gasped, craning his neck as the two women sit on the other side of the club.

"Turn around," Paul said miserably, head in his hands.

"Oh man," Gene sighed. "Shit..."

"My fucking nightmare just came out of my head and walked right into this bar."

"Easy Paul, they're almost done... and your son's up next..."

Elliott beamed at Jeannie, panting and wiping sweat from her brow as they broke for a few minutes. He winked and gave her the thumbs up, excited as Kyle seethed with jealousy from the opposite side of the stage. Suddenly Elliot noticed his father's change in mood, and started a bit.

"What's wrong?" Jeannie mouthed. Elliot tossed his head over in the back of the bar, and Jeannie saw the two women carrying drinks to another table nearby, on the opposite side of the club to Gene and Paul's table. A look of shock filled his face. Karen smiled at Elliot, waving as she blew him a kiss.

"Here he is, our rhythm wonder... Elliott Valentine Eisen, singing our next song..." Kyle shouted into the microphone. "HIT it!"

Elliott walked up to the microphone, adjusting it. He began the first few lines easily enough, keeping pace with Jan's tempo. However, he got lost on the chorus. Jeannie noticed his floundering helpless look, and chimed in on the lyrics, moving close to sing next to him at his microphone. Her presence bolstered him, and he continued on, although Kyle pulled a face at him. Shortly Elliott glanced sidelong at Jeannie, panic on his face.

"Easy,' she urged him as they moved into the bridge.

From the floor, Paul saw his son's personal drama unfold. Elliot froze, waiting for Jeannie to come over to the mike and again sing the lines of the second verse.

"Christ, Ell, keep your cool," Paul muttered.

Elliot backs away a bit, still looking stunned, when he saw Paul's critical eye. However, Jeannie moved forwards, throwing herself into the verse with passion that drew attention from Elliott. A sway of the hips and a leaping stomp elicited a cheer and whoop from the teensomethings down on the dance floor, jamming and raising their arms in tribute to the rock goddess whom had arisen from nothing.

Karen glanced back at Elliott perplexed by his stage fright. She noticed her son periodically glancing over towards the other side of the club, his uncertainty building with each passing moment. Karen's line of sight traced over to the source of Elliott's frantic looks, and her eyes widened.

Jeannie finished for a flourish, and then Kyle walked over, shouting,

"WE need to take FIVE and stick for our next set!"

His acid glare at Elliot told the singer he was dead meat. Especially when he saw his mother poking and prodding Ray anxiously, her eyes narrowing in anger.

***

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, GODDD!" Karen hissed to Raina.

"Easy..." Ray urged. "You're kid's watching you from up there..."

"Why did NO ONE tell me that bastard would be here?" Karen slammed her hand on the table.

"Kar, give it a fucking REST!" Ray hissed. They saw the lights go down, and the band break for five.

"I'm GONE!" Karen huffed, grabbing her coat. "I'm freakin' GONE!"

Ray glanced up at the stage, hearing arguing amongst the band members. She saw Elliot storm off the stage, followed by the lead guitarist who was waving his arms frantically, mouth open and shouting obscenities.

Ripping off his guitar, Elliot threw it into its stand, with Jeannie running after him.

Anxiously Ray followed Karen who stormed to Paul and Gene's table. Blue eyes blazed, and she stopped, chest heaving in and out with her mounting anger. She stomped and bumped Gene's chair, shoving it angrily. Paul jerked back as Gene almost lost his balance, and Ray shot them both an apologetic look.

Onstage the drama continued as Kyle screamed, "You fucking SUCK!"

Elliot ignored him, halfway down the dance floor as he watched the play by play of his family. He shook his head, seeing the tension between Karen, who had turned around, eyes blazing at Gene and Paul, with Ray refereeing.

"You fuck up gain, Eisen and you're history!" Kyle shoved him hard.

"Shut up!" Jeannie screamed at Kyle.

"They're going to kill each other," Elliot whispered, rushing toward the railing.

"Hey EISENcube, I'm talking to you!" Kyle shouted, grabbing Elliott's shoulder and jerking him back. "You fucked that last song up good, nerdass!"

"She's going to leave...just leave..." Elliot gasped, noticing his mother about to storm out.

Jeannie turned to Kyle, snarling, "You shut up you mother fucking ASSHOLE!"

"Shut up bitch," Kyle snapped. Elliott shoved into the crowd, heading straight for Paul's table by the railing.

"You've got to stop her dad!" Elliot cried at Paul.

From behind him, Jeannie growled at Kyle, "Fuck you..." stomping her boot toward him.

"Back off, you BITCH!" he snarled, lunging at her. They circled about, facing each other warily.

Elliot reached the railing, screaming up at his father, "I'm sick and damn tired this crap!"

Paul rose to look at him, "I... I somehow don't think I'm the person she wants to see."

From beside him Gene suddenly snapped up, seeing his daughter go down under Kyle's hands. People parted to either side as Kyle's hand raised, and Jeannie's fist raked his face.

Anger pounded in Gene's chest and he burst from his chair, leaping over the railing and landing hard on his boots. In two steps, he was shoving people out of the way to reach his daughter's side. Kyle had thrown himself on Jeannie, who shoved her hand up into his face to push him away. He pinned her between his knees, his balled fist raised to strike as he screamed, "I'll teach you to upstage and embarrass me you two bit WHORE!"

"You leave her alone you fucking asshole!" Gene roared grabbing Kyle's fist and yanking him off Jeannie in one fluid movement. Kyle felt his arm jerk out of its socket as a powerful man hauled him up and snapped him back, twisting his arm behind his back in a powerful hold.

Kyle struggled against the stranger pinioning his arms. Jeannie slowly rose to her feet, spitting blood. Gene's arm closed on Kyle's neck from behind in a sleeper hold, slowly squeezing him.

"You leave my daughter ALONE, you ASSHOLE or I'll tear you apart!" Gene growled into his ear.

"Who the hell are you?" Kyle squeaked.

"Your worst nightmare puke," Gene hissed, and then grabbed Kyle bodily and hurled him onto the hard dance floor. Stunned, Kyle shook his head and slowly pushed himself off the rocking world that spun around him.

Elliot screamed at Paul, "You can't let her WALK OUT! You OWE ME THIS!"

IN shock, Paul looked at his frantic son, to where Ray was running after Karen. Sighing he broke into a run, pushing through the crowd assembling to watch the fight erupting on the dance floor. Elliot heard Gene's yells and snapped forth from his trance. He rushed to help Jeannie off the floor as Kyle rolled to his feet and faced off against Gene.

"Holy shit," Kyle stammered.

"You're DEAD, pissant... for laying a hand on my DAUGHTER, and for hitting a woman," Gene growled. Kyle drew back his fist, sending it crashing towards the larger man. However, Gene dodged it easily, grabbing Kyle by the back of his pants and his shirt collar and swinging him off his feet. For a second Kyle kicked and flailed helplessly, and people cheered when Gene picked him up and hurled him into the wall with one swift movement. Like a sack of potatoes Kyle landed heavily and lay there motionless.

"Oh holy shit, Jean..." Elliot gasped, holding Jeannie in his arms and hugging her. She quivered against him, as Gene approached the couple. By now, the manager, Chris, and Steve had rushed up, demanding to know what was going on.

"This asshole attacked my daughter!" Gene yelled, pointing to Kyle's motionless body.

"Daddy..." Jeannie cried, as Gene pushed the stammering club owner aside and took his daughter in his arms. She sobbed, burying her face into his shirt as he rocked her.

"It's okay honey, daddy's here," Gene said, hugging her.

"Sir... what in hell..." the manager stammered.

"Do you have any idea just WHO I am?" Gene glared at him. "And just WHAT happened here? If you have ANY sense in that pin sized HEAD you'd arrest that punk NOW!"

"Uh..." the manager gasped. "Shit... you're..."

"That's right," Gene nodded grimly.

"Get him OUT of here, and HOLD him even if you have to sit on him," the manager yelled at his bouncers. Seizing Kyle, they hauled the stunned young man to his feet and bodily carried him toward the back.

Elliot moved over to stand by Jeannie, begging, "Please, Mr. Simmons, let me..."

"Kid," Gene sighed, looking down at him.

"You need to talk to the police... please just let me..."

"All right," Gene relented, releasing her. "I'm gonna speak more privately to that asshole of a fucking club manager... I'll be BACK..."

Poking a finger at Elliot, he turned and stormed off into the club where the announcer was trying to restore order. Elliott glanced down at Jeannie, walking her toward the back dressing room as quickly as he could.

"Please dad, make her come back," he pleaded to the doorway where Paul had left. Turning back to Jeannie he sobbed, "I've HAD it with this piece of shit band... This is it, Jeannie. No more of him."

"Thank god," she muttered.

"God, they're going to kill each other... my parents," he sighed. "Maybe I should..."

"Ray's out there with them I'm sure," she reassured him, wiping away his tears with the back of her hand. "Let THEM handle it. For once you don't have to be a pawn in this..."

Paul's feet pounded the pavement as he rushed up the street to the parking lot. Karen was furiously stabbing her key into the door of her car, to unlock it. Stopping right by the car, Paul looked at her, his pulse pounding from the run, and from the sight of her before him.

"Hello..." he said, extending a hand to her. "My son... our son, he was upset that you left..."

She whirled around, blue eyes blazing as she shouted, "You have a lot of nerve coming here, mother fucker..."

"Now WAIT a damn minute!" Paul shouted, cutting her off.

"You WAIT!" she screamed, hands over her ears. "You stay the hell OUT OF MY LIFE!"

"Elliott is my SON, for God's sake!" Paul yelled, overtop her scream. She stopped at his shout, her hands knotting into fists, panting heavily.

"Some damn FATHER you are!" she shouted. "What is he going to learn from you next? Fucking groupies?"

"I'm a DAMN GOOD father!" he said, voice beginning to rise with irritation. "And just because you and I didn't amount to jack shit, doesn't mean I don't love my GODDAMN son."

"He is FINALLY making something of himself with a good girl, and you show up! What are you going to do, take him away and give him a record contract?" Karen cried, taking a step towards Paul, who backed away. "Take him AWAY FROM ME?"

"Karen, you sound like a raving lunatic!" Paul held up his hand, shaking his head.

"I saw you here, watching him... scoping him out! For your next damn RECORD label!" Karen screamed. "I won't let you take him away, god damn it!"

"Jesus, can't you at least talk civilly to me after all these freakin' years?" Paul cut her off again.

Stopped by his words, she inhaled deeply, eyes shutting. She collected her next string of angry words, and sighed, "All right. But I'm sick of you trying to buy his love... you don't need to keep dumping money on him!"

"I know...I KNOW you hate me. You've made that PERFECTLY clear over the last 20 years...." Paul said, taking a deep breath of chilly night air himself. Karen advanced on him, glaring with fury and the accumulated hatred of two decades.

"He's getting lazy because of it!" Karen poked a finger at his chest. "He needs to learn to WORK for a damn living, not sponge off his father!"

"WHY is nothing I do GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?" Paul yelled loudly. Karen backed away in shock. Her eyes filled with tears, but Paul's heart fused into stone, refusing to back down this time.

"Have you EVER stopped to think that the damn reason I had a GROUPIE in my room anyway is because you had REFUSED to tour with me and you'd REFUSED to have SEX with me!" he yelled. "And I'm just supposed to ACCEPT THAT?"

"Because you were GONE!" she yelled back, throwing up her hands. "God damn it! I was your WIFE!"

"You were a MISERABLE excuse for a wife!" Paul snapped. "And I got fucking sick on it!"

"I hate you!" she screamed, running toward him, hand raised. She stopped herself, burying her head in her hands as she turned away. He heard her sob, "I gave you the best years of my life..."

"If I'm so damn bad, and you're so damn pissed, go ahead. Slap me. Get it out of your damn system, because GIRL, you have a PROBLEM!" Paul challenged her, sick of this argument that had erupted for the last time. There had to be an end, no matter the cost. It was here, tonight where it was all on the table, ugly as it was.

She whirled around, jaw set hard. He could see her hand as it moved slowly yet in reality flashed toward his face, and the stinging smack as it landed hard against his cheek and eye. However, the force of it knocked him off balance, and he felt the red pain erupting in a hot flush. Dropping to his knee, he faced the building, clutching his cheek in pain. It had hurt far worse then he expected.

All her energy had gone into that slap, the accumulation of two decades, and he heard only silence, which pained him far worse then her angry screams. Karen felt the hatred drain from her at that moment, leaving her only empty despair in return. The forlorn nature of her directed anger had fueled her for so long, that she had nothing left, and the reality of how lonely and sad it had been sank in. Looking at her shaking, stinging hand she felt hot tears creep into her eyes, blurring her view of Paul.

Paul's fingers brushed the snow, taking a handful of it and pressing it to the stinging welt on his face. He sighed and dropped to his other knee, letting the snow soak into his pants. Karen dropped to her knees, hands in her face as she doubled over sobbing bitterly.

"Where do we go so fucking wrong?" he said, beginning to cry.

"I don't know," she whined. "Oh god... I feel like I want to kill you... for what you made me feel..."

"Why did it go wrong?" Paul sobbed. "I just wanted you to love me... And when you wouldn't..." he sniffled.

"Oh god Paul, I was so angry..." she gasped, crawling to his side.

"I did something terrible. And now, I feel so empty... Paul... what happened... why did I... why did you?"

"I just wanted you to love me like you used to!" he said, crying into his hands as he sat down on the pavement like a hurt child who had lost his best friend. Karen rubbed her wrist, guessing it must hurt as much as his face and slowly crawled so she was next to him. She let him sob for a while before her heart melted. He looked so pathetic and lost; she wondered why she had turned him into a monster for so long. In reality, she had been the monster, not he. Slowly she reached out her hand to touch his shoulder, the only physical contact she'd shared in years with him, and he glanced up to look at her, sobbing, "I can't fucking do this alone..."

"I want so much to hate you, but now all I can do is feel despair..." she sobbed, wrapping her arms around him and crying into his neck.

"I was so angry for so long..."

"I have tried...tried... for YEARS to get you to forgive me, but all you would do was hate me," he cried, burying his head in her shoulder as she hugged him tightly. They clung to each other weeping.

"And now... it's all... gone... and there's nothing left..." she whispered. He stopped crying for a moment realizing she was embracing him at that moment.

"There's something left," he said quietly. "There's a son we made of love."

"How can you possibly love me or care to look at me after what I said?" she asked, backing away at arm's length to look at him.

"You must hate me as much as I did you..."

"I've never hated you," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"I embarrassed him... my son... our son..." she sobbed. "Paul... I've made a mess... I've been hurting him so much by hating you... I suddenly realized it..."

"Kar, do you remember that stupid diner you used to work in?" Paul said sadly, glancing away.

"Yes," she sighed. "After I stopped working at the strip club..."

"It's still here. And I'm hungry. And lonely..."

"But our son..." she sobbed. "He needs us don't you see? He needs us NOW!"

"What he NEEDS from us is to work out our damn differences, and we can't do that in front of him. We can't put him through this." He said, finally turning to face her.

"WE need to go back in there," she said, taking his cheek. "And support him... And stop hating each other..."

Paul watched as she pushed down on his shoulder to scramble up, then extend her hand to reach toward him. Knowing she was wanting to help him stand, he took her hand in his, and let her pull him to his feet.

He sighed and slowly rose to his feet. His cheek was bright red.

"I really hurt you," she whispered.

"I'm not worried about it," he said quietly, as he walked past her.

"And it's not the first time."

"Paul..." she said, and he stopped and looked at the ground. "When I hit you... I suddenly felt better... The hate... is gone... especially when I realized how much I was hurting our son by walking out..."

He hesitated for a moment, then starts to smile. "No kidding. Well, it hurt like hell on this end."

"He needs both of us now..." she said. "And I need your help... we have to talk to him... get him to come back out... and finish his show... And he has no lead guitarist."

"Afterwards...I need to.... Need to be with you.... Talk to you.... I need... we need... to connect," he said, taking her hand again.

"We'll meet after this, at the diner, promise," she said.

"Because RIGHT now, my head is spinning in circles," he moaned. She saw him stagger and caught him around the waist to steady him against her.

"You haven't called me Stan once," he said sadly as she helped him to lean on her, arm around her shoulders. "Maybe that's part of our problem."

"Come on Stanley, let's go help our son..." she urged, tugging him back in the direction of the club.