By Trynia Merin

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. Dr. Raina (Marcy) MacLaren, Karen Valentez, Trisha Malloy and Liz of Sweet Revenge are property of the author, Trynia Merin, as are the kids of the band Flaming Youth.

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"Ray, you have to get out," said Stanley Eisen.

"I know," she mumbled. "It’s just I don’t want to leave…"

"We need another good day out," he said, doodling on his guitar. The third day of her self-imposed exile had started, leaving both of them in her apartment, now redecorated with psychedelic posters, a lava lamp and a beaded curtain. A lot of collector plates her mom had given her decorated the kitchen, with her Jimi Hendrix and Toulouse Latrek posters, and a few paintings she had done. Also in her collection were a couple of nice watercolor paintings Stan had given her from one of his art assignments, a landscape and a still life he figured would go well. His signature was scribbled in the bottom corner, and she had hung both paintings up with a smile in the living room.

"I love these," she smiled.

"Good place for them. Mom and dad insisted I keep them in my room but I told them I was giving them to a friend," he chuckled.

"You really are good," she said. "Ever considered being an artist?"

"I dunno," he shrugged cutely. "I guess my heart’s in music."

"When do you have to go to your new job?"

"Thursday," Stanley said, sipping his tea. Ray had made a pot of Earl Grey, and he had to admit tea was a nice alternative to coffee all the time. It was sweetened with natural honey, and half-and-half, and the scones she had whipped up were also nice. They had eaten last night’s dinner inside, and Ray had cooked him up a nice chili con carne. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, he was getting nicely spoiled with this woman. On his way to get the oil paintings he had also brought some more changes of clothes.

"What did you have in mind… for going out?" she asked tentatively, patting his knee. She returned to her own guitar playing, blending a melody with his.

"There was this club in the village," he said. "They kinda play all sorts of local stuff."

"New York dolls?" she teased.

"OH STOP!" he groaned, throwing a pillow at her. "Nope, just some other bands. There’s this one called the Planets. Actually I’m considering meeting up with a guy in the Androids."

"You mean you want to play with them?" she asked. "But I thought…"

"After all he’s put you through, I almost don’t want to see his face," Stan gulped his tea grimly.

"But I don’t want to be the reason you give up your big chance…" she said.

"I figure if he wants me badly enough, he can make me a better offer," Stan said firmly. "Besides, this is just a… fishing expedition. I want to see how I sound with the Androids tonight. I was hoping you’d come along to cheer me on…"

"I’ll get a table in the front row," she smiled.

"Thanks Ray, you’re a sweetheart…"

"So are you, ‘she whispered, kissing his lips. They wrapped each other in an embrace both didn’t want to end, and moved t heir guitars down out of the way before. Ray focussed on the soft feel of his lips on hers and for a fleeting moment wondered what would happen next. However she pushed the thoughts away, choosing to live in the moment, and make this sweet time last as long as she could.

***

Club Triple Cat was a small Greenwich Village pub, with a stage on the first floor, with the club tables scattered. ON a second level a gallery overlooked it with more tables, and on the third floor there was a pool hall and several dozen pinball machines. She and Stan had arrived early that afternoon, to look around, and they saw a few patrons already playing pinball along the back wall.

"Wait here Hon, I’ll just see if the guys are in back," Stan said, kissing her on the lips. He left her at the bar, to glance around. She saw a few guys playing pool, their cigarette smoke curling up into the rafters.

Presently Stan returned and said, "Hon, do you mind waiting around for a while? The guys and I want to talk a bit, and we’re going to jam in back. I hope you don’t mind waiting here… and watching some TV… I’m really sorry…"

"Go on and schmooze, ‘she smiled. "I’ll be fine…"

Just then she saw a few guys in long bell bottoms and platform shoes wander out from the back. Stan lifted his guitar case and walked toward them, a serious look on his face. The one who appeared t be the leader, with long curly hair said, "Stan Eisen?"

"Yes," Stan said. "Remember we talked?"

"Well thanks for showing up. We weren’t sure you would. This lovely lady yours?"

"Her name’s Ray. She’s with me," he said, indicating Ray. "Can she wait here?"

"Sure thing. Nice to meet you baby… mind if we talk to your man a bit? Won’t take too long… and you can just relax here…"

"Thanks," Ray smiled. "This a tryout?"

"We just wanna discuss a few things," the bandleader said. "And try him out. If all goes well, he’ll be performing with us tonight. Hope you can stick around for the show, and come to the party afterwards…"

"That’s why I’m here," she said, walking over and rubbing Stan’s back. "Go have fun playing boys…"

"You sure?" Stan asked.

"It’ll be ok," she smiled, and watched as the members of the Androids filed back into the back rooms one by one. The stage was already being set up by several of the crew, and she saw an older man with white hair speaking to several young men in leather and jeans.

"You drinking alone?" someone asked her. She saw that two men, both with dark hair and brown eyes and a woman with long brown hair were sitting near her.

"Um… my um… boyfriend is playing tonight and he’s at rehearsal…"

"Shame to leave a lovely cat like you here all alone," the guy with the moustache said, and the other guy rolled his eyes.

"Don’t listen to his crap," he said. "Back off bro. She says she’s spoken for…"

"All of them say that, Pete," he laughed.

"Guys, knock it off," the woman snorted in disgust. "Don’t mind Tweedle-dee and dum. My name’s Lydia and this is Pete my husband. You’re with one of the bands?"

"Um, well yes," she blushed. "The Androids."

"Oh MAN what a bunch of squares," Pete’s brother laughed. "You wound me!"

"Are you here to gripe or to play?" she teased back.

"Actually we’re here to play, at least my BRO is," he smiled. "Right Petey by?"

"You’re here to play, I’m here to drink," Pete laughed. "Say, what’s your name, little girl?"

"Ray," she smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Say, pretty young think like you, and this boyfriend of yours is leaving you out here?" the other guy asked.

"Well," she smiled. "It’s only for an hour."

"Better keep her company Lyd, before my brother snaps her up," Pete winked. "Want a smoke?"

"Sure," she smiled as Pete offered her a cigarette, and his brother helped light her up with a flick of his metal cased lighter. They both lit smokes themselves, Pete helping his wife light up. Soon the bartender drifted over.

"Budweiser for me," Pete said. "And you Hon?"

"Tequila," she said.

"Bro?"

"Budweiser, and for the lady?"

"Cranberry juice and vodka," she said.

"Be right back," the bartender smiled. He got their drinks and quickly and efficiently slid them down the bar. She noticed that other guys had begun to join them around the bar with girls, and that Peter’s brother was sitting awfully close to her. He was dressed in jeans, T-shirt and boots, wearing a leather vest and jacket overtop, and she guessed by their look that they were ethnically Italian. Also judging from the crucifixes around the brother’s necks also helped judge that they were catholic.

Lyd and Pete kept to themselves, softly talking and holding hands. They seemed almost shy at times, but a few beers started to loosen their tongues.

"My brother’s in a band called Chelsea," Pete’s brother smiled, showing his set of white teeth, a few of which had caps on them. "You heard of ‘em?"

"I haven’t been to this club before," she smiled shyly, liking the way this guy was looking her up and down.

She half expected for Stanley to return, and end up playing a jealous act, but it wasn’t like she was exclusive property of him. After all.

She noticed a few guys coming out, and saw Stan with them. Other people had begun to come in, and she saw that Stan stood up front, slowly plugging in his guitar and starting to jam with them. After a few minutes they walked backstage again, and she looked up at Pete and Lydia.

"Got to get set up," Pete said to her. "I think we’re on in a half hour…"

"Right Bro…" his brother said.

"Say, you mind sitting with Lyd here?" Peter asked her. "Since you both have something in common?"

"Sure," Ray smiled.

"I’d enjoy that," Lydia smiled. The two women watched as Pete and his brother walked toward the stage, followed by a few others. They began to set up guitars and amplifiers, along with an extensive drum kit. Pete settled behind the drum kit, slowly tapping each to show if the tension was right. He had the look of a seasoned musician, not like the amateurs she had seen when with Gene. Even the other members, the guitarists and keyboard players were older, perhaps closer in their later twenties.

"How long has your husband been playing?" Ray asked Lydia.

"For about eight years," she smiled.

"You often sit out?" Ray asked.

"I’m used to it. I’m not always at shows, but they do like it when I take pictures," she said, pulling a 35 millimeter camera out and fastening the lenses to it.

"You’re a photographer?" Ray asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "It’s sort of a hobby. Sometimes I take pictures of the boys on their gigs. Just for posterity, and to put on fliers. It helps the publicity of Chelsea…"

"Interesting name," she said, watching the band members warm up. What a nice change it was to see them going through their paces without arguing, tuning up their amplifiers and instruments in a calm cool manner without bickering.

As they continued to watch, she noticed a few other patrons enter, a group of what appeared to be hippies. Among them walked a girl with long blonde hair, who started over in their direction, and Ray’s eyes widened in surprise as she stood near Lydia, and the two women embraced.

"Sunshine!" Lydia laughed.

"Lyds!" she smiled. "It is most wonderful to see you here girlfriend!"

Ray watched as they exchanged a few words, flanked by the tall man with long brown hair and a few others clad in pooka beads, bell-bottoms, and woolen vests. Sunshine had long flowing hair and a crown of braided flowers, her peasant skirt and loose blouse cut and laced up the front. She also wore a peace sign and multicolored glass beads strung on a long thread and looped many times around her neck. Taking in Raina she smiled.

"Peace and hope," she held out both hands to Ray. "Are you a new friend of Lydia?"

"She’s Ray," smiled Lydia. "Ray, meet Sunshine."

"Sunshine?" Ray smiled.

"My given name as this society speaks is Liz, but I am known as Sunshine," she smiled with a strange spacey look in her clear blue eyes. "You here to hear the music?"

"Only reason, and well… to support the man in my life," she blushed.

"Indeed a good cause," Sunshine smiled. Somehow the idea of those hippies walking into a bar seemed a strange dichotomy, but when she saw her other hippies passing out fliers she couldn’t help but chuckle. She thought they were a few years out of step with the times. However when she smelled the telltale odor of pot as the hippies found a table and started chatting and mingling with some of the other strangely dressed patrons, she agreed that Greenwich Village was a magnet for persons from all walks of life.

"How did you two meet?" Ray asked.

"She and I went to school together," Lydia smiled. Liz sat down between Lydia and Ray, tapping Ray’s arm and smiling broadly. It was clear she wanted a cigarette, and Ray tipped the pack of Marlborough out of her purse. She presented one to Liz, who quickly lit it off the stub of Ray’s. Slowly Ray inhaled a drag; half tempted to do so in defiance of someone who hated smokes.

Chelsea started with a slow yet rocking number that almost had the feel of a jazz beat. She watched Peter as he stroked up the drums, his hands moving quickly and easily from set to set. She had to admit he was solid and good, better by far then what she had seen in bands past. His voice crooned out the lead lines, with a bit of a rasp that suited the music well. The others joined in with their harmonies, weaving in and out at the appropriate places. Almost a three-dog night sound coupled with a peppy pop beat, with a few good funky lines thrown in. All in all, a refreshing sound from the grating rock and the hard screaming bangs of the New York Dolls. These guys wanted to make music that was the delight of the fans, not to make a political statement. Simply good music to enjoy and get down to.

"You both come to play a lot… I mean your husband?" Ray asked.

"We play here at least once a month," said Lydia.

"Are you in a band?" Ray asked Sunshine.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Sunshine smiled. "We are Mother Earth’s Mystery Machine… the scope of life and nature woven into song…"

" You and your friends? Do you write and sing?" Ray asked.

"I sense a kindred spirit," Sunshine nodded, and reached into her woven bag to pull out a flier. "We are playing here next week, but tonight we pay our dues as members of the audience. For without observers no band is a band…"

"Indeed," Ray smiled. "I write and sing…"

"Do you perform…"

"Well, uh no…"

"Why not?" Liz asked. "What is to stop you? If it is because the bourgeoisie notions of the unliberated women bind you…"

"I guess I am," Ray mumbled.

"I surmise you are here, because you are lost, and wish to find another path," Liz said to Ray.

"I am lost," Ray sighed to Sunshine. "Very lost… I uh… broke up with a guy and I’m here with his friend…"

"You must love the one you’re with, as the song says," Liz patted her arm. "And love can be found when closest at hand. Do not live by society rules but by your own. If you deny your inner voice, it will express itself in other ways, with the force of a waterfall…"

"Are you talking about me not singing?" Ray asked.

"The creative muse is within all of us. Some have yet to tap it. But if your muse screams to escape the confines of what you have imposed, it will find another way you least expect to voice itself," Liz said to Ray, patting her shoulder. "You owe it to your muse to liberate your tightness and let it flow freely…"

"I wish it were that simple," she sighed.

"It is. But the first step is always the hardest," Liz nodded. "Come see us perform next week… I would love to see you give your ears to what you hear…"

For a moment Ray wondered if Sunshine, really named Liz was for real. However a weird shiver passed over her, as if she were meant to meet this strange hippie. Oddly a lot of what Liz said made perfect sense. As Lydia excused herself to the ladies, room she bade Liz to stay with Ray. She wandered away; joining one of the girlfriends of the members of Chelsea that also flocked round them at the safety of the bar. Always women had the unspoken law of attending the restroom in pairs. There was safety in numbers with a crowd like this. No wonder Stanley had told her to stay at the bar.

"Mother Earth’s Mystery Machine?" Ray asked Liz.

"We sometimes simplify it to Mystery Machine," she said with a small smile.

"How long have you been playing?"

"It is the group belonging to Grass-sprout. Dayflower and I sunshine are the yin, and the rest of the Yang is Grass Sprout, Moonbeam and Bearchild. However we will need a new guitar player soon, as the styles and whims of music are changing…"

"Keeping up with the times, huh?" she wondered.

"That and Bear Child and Dayflower are expecting a child," she blushed.

"Children do put a cramp in things," Ray blushed.

"We celebrate their new life," Liz said. "But the road of music is no place of tranquility for a young life. They’ll return to the commune…"

"You live on a commune, that’s so cool!" Ray cried.

"The Summer Harvest Commune, in upstate New York," Liz smiled. "However our visions have brought us back to the city. For the Commune requires sadly the influx of material goods to keep going. And we volunteered to return. Dayflower and Bear Child will return once we have found our new members."

"Were you at Woodstock?" Ray asked.

"Yes. I met Grass sprout in San Francisco, and we travailed here to join the Summer Harvest," she nodded.

"I wish I had gone to San Francisco," Ray sighed. "But my parents."

"Are stiff?" asked Liz. "You just must cut loose and enjoy life. Find your own path."

"I have my own apartment," Ray sighed.

"But you have loved and lost in finding freedom?" Liz guessed. "I share your pain…"

"Yeah, it’s as old as the world," Ray mumbled, sipping her drink down and taking another drag of her smoke. She noticed Liz was simply drinking orange juice, with no additives. However she smelled the familiar odor of pot in Liz’ clothes.

"You care to partake of a bowl?" she asked Ray. "Grass?"

"I’ll try anything," Ray mumbled. Liz motioned her to another corner of the bar, where her friends had gathered. They were sitting at a table, and Liz bade her sit down. Moonbeam moved aside to let Ray sit next to him, and Sunshine, Liz, sat on Ray’s other side. She pulled out a small clay pipe and a small bag filled with strange needle like nodules. They pulled the buds apart and Moonbeam packed them into the pipe. Liz handed it to him with a lighter, and he quickly inhaled, the flame spurting down. He passed it to Liz, who did the same, and she passed it to Ray, who looked at it oddly.

"It’s cherried," Liz whispered. "Just breathe deeply in… and I’ll light it…"

Ray sighed and did so, inhaling as Liz lit the pipe’s contents. She inhaled and coughed. Liz slapped her on the back. Meanwhile Bear Child had pulled out a roach and lit the end, sharing it with Dayflower, and then passing it to Grass Sprout. Ray passed the pipe back to Moonbeam, and the circle partook of another round.

A momentary pang of guilt rose in Ray as she formed a mental image of Gene. However, she pushed it away, defiantly inhaling another drag, and letting the haze settled relaxedly on her brain. Each successive inhalation washed over her like a wave on the beach, and the alcohol merged into a blissful state of calm. It was easy to see why people enjoyed grass so, and she wonder3ed in some remote corner if she should be doing this till the doubts dwindled to nothing.

In the midst of revelry a spike of guilt stabbed at Ray’s brain, suddenly interrupting her mellow mood. A sudden pattern of memory drifted past, of Stanley and a girl who had smoked pot. Guilt ridden, she passed the pipe to Liz and said, "Excuse me, I have to go outside…"

"Why girl?" Liz asked.

"Um, I was supposed to meet my man," she said quickly. "I’ll see you later…"

"Peace," Liz said, watching her get up, with a puzzled expression. Ray quickly pushed past the crowds of people, hoping that Stanley had not wandered out and seen her smoking grass. She son reached the main street and inhaled gulps of fresh air. Lighting a smoke she quickly inhaled to clear her head, and pulled out a small vial of perfume from her purse and spritzed herself thoroughly.

"There you are!" a female voice said, and Ray spun around to see Lydia standing there, with a look of concern. "I wondered where you had gotten to!"

"I um… was talking to Liz and I um, needed some fresh air…"

"And a smoke?" Lydia teased. "I know Liz can be um… a lot to take at one time…"

"They were smoking weed," Ray mumbled. "And I didn’t want Stanley to smell it."

"Your man?" Lydia asked.

"Yes," she said. "He’s playing with the Androids… he’s a guitarist…"

"I look forward to seeing him. When’s he on?"

"He’s just trying out. Oh god Lydia," Ray suddenly began to cry.

"Easy girl, what’s wrong?"

"I can’t… oh shit…"

"Let’s go back in… I’ll get you a drink…" Lydia urged, bringing her back into the circle of the pub, and the anonymous crowd. She pushed past them and returned to the bar, where the girlfriends of Chelsea had suddenly returned to. Ordering a gin and tonic, she put it by ray, and urged her to drink.

"Thanks," Ray sniffled; re-lighting her smoke and tipping drink down. The burn added to her haze, chasing away the haze of pot. One drug for another, she wearily reflected.

"I know we only just met, but you look like you need to talk,’ Lydia said.

"Thanks I just… oh damn…"

"Is it you and Stanley?" Lydia asked.

"Well you know, I dated his best friend… Eugene," she said, making up a fictional name. "And well, they played in the same band… and we moved in together, and then he left me…"

"Shit," Lydia sighed. "I’m sorry. What a bastard."

"He is a bastard. Selfish!" she sobbed. "And then Stanley came and we sort of… I started crying, and then we just… ended up in bed…"

"Wow," Lydia sighed. "I can’t say I blame you. This Eugene character seems like a prick if you don’t mind me saying so."

"He said he loved me… and then… he just left," Ray sobbed. Lydia slipped her arm around Ray as Ray gave her the lowdown, changing names of course to protect the innocent and not so innocent.

"So you’re Christian, and he’s Jewish, huh? And your parents couldn’t’ deal?"

"Yep that it," she mumbled.

"Some people are jerks, but they did have a small point. And you said this guy didn’t promise he’d give up seeing other women? Sounds like it was HIS fault and his sorry loss, not yours…"

"I wish I could find a man to marry…"

"If you weren’t with Stan I’d hook you up with Peter’s brother," she smiled. "He’s a bit rough, but he’s a good guy…"

"Would a Catholic date a Protestant?" Ray mumbled.

"When a pretty woman is involved, he doesn’t’ care,’ she chuckled.

"Even a Scottish girl like me? My last name’s McLaren."

"Oh well, names mean nothing. I wish that were the cads. But just don’t make a big stinking deal of it. My husband and I’ve been married a few years. And it takes getting used to. But as long as you date and marry musicians, you’ll have to worry about them and the women. Goes with the territory. But I’m Mrs. Peter Crisscuola, not them. That’s what matters."

"Not familiar with that name," Ray smiled. "Unusual."

"Good old Italian name," Lydia teased, to try and get Ray to smile. "Besides, we love each other. That’s what matters."

Out of the crowd pushed Stanley, moving quickly over to Ray’s side and he put his hand on her shoulder, "Ray Hon, I’m so sorry it took so long…"

"Hi love," Ray smiled at Stan, who looked at Lydia.

"This your man?" Lydia asked.

"That’d be me, beautiful," Stan smiled at Lydia. "You been keeping her out of trouble?"

"Indeed. She’s mentioned you, Stanley is it?"

"That’d be me. Friends call me Stan," he smiled.

"This is Lydia. She takes pictures," Ray smiled. "So… what is the word?"

"Word is that I play with them after this next band. And we’ll see," he smiled. "You want to come backstage and meet them? I’d rather have you where I can keep an eye on you. And they don’t mind…"

"You sure?" Ray asked.

"I’m sure," he smiled. "See you Lydia. Hope you don’t mind me borrowing your friend."

"Sure," smiled Lydia. "Get out of here!"

Taking Ray’s hand, Stanley led her back through the crowd toward the back room. Excitedly Ray tried to keep up with him as they were ushered past the bouncer into the world of the backstage of the club. As they reached a small hallway, lit only by a bare bulb he whispered, "There’s another reason I wanted you back here… they need someone to fill in on keyboards. And well I told them about you…"

"Oh shit Stan I can’t…"

"Why not?" he asked. "It’s only basic chords. I’ll give you the cues… and you can follow me… I’ll be right next to you…"

"But…"

"This is your chance to play…"

"But with no notice?"

"It will be okay. We’ll give you the chords as we go along… and one or two of the songs we’re doing are mine," he whispered, taking her backstage. Dreading and shaking in the pit of her stomach, Ray groaned.

***