By Trynia Merin

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! 

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Turning over in sleep, Elliott mumbled and reached for her. When he didn’t find her next to him in her customary place, he blinked quickly awake. The morning sun poured through the slats of his venetian blinds, and Elliot struggled to sit up, even though the sheets still ensnared his legs. They seemed to beg him to remain among them, nestled nicely and cozily in a pool of warmth. However as he traced his hand over the place she’d occupied, he still felt the residual warmth from her body. Where was she, he wondered, swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor. After a night of dancing and partying they’d returned home to a marathon sex session, the likes of which they had not indulged in for a few days. At least not since the calls with Denise had started.

At this point he hardly cared if his ex called, he was feeling so sated and complete from their lovemaking. His eyes snapped to the movement of the door opening on the most beautiful thing he could feast his sight on, her gorgeous body, only scantily clad in a brief loose robe that barely touched the top of her thighs.

"C’mere baby," he cooed. She blushed and went over to join him, sitting on the bed.

"Shall we check on the future in laws?" she asked him.

"Oh god," he chuckled. "I hope they didn’t hear us?"

"I don’t know," she laughed. Slowly he kissed her, and she kissed him back.

"I’d love to do this lover, but it feels WEIRD having my dad in the next room when we’re uh… you know?"

"Having sex?" she chuckled. "No wonder you put your hand over my mouth last night!"

"Well, can you blame me? What if your dad was in the next room screwing a groupie?"

"Point taken," she said bopping him with the pillow. He spanked her ass as she got up, and she threw him a pair of boxer shorts.

Pulling them on, Ell grabbed his robe, covering himself up as he wandered out to see if Paul and Julia were yet awake. Silently he tiptoed past them as they slumbered on the sofa bed together. Jeannie and she had started in the same bed, but in the middle of the night when Ell and Paul had finally returned, Julia had gotten up and gone to join Paul in the sofa bed while Elliot went to be with Jeannie, with Paul’s blessings.

"Shh," he whispered, noticing them. Julia lay against Paul, both fast asleep and cuddled together. She pillowed her head on his chest, mumbling as she rubbed it in her sleep. Feeling weird, Elliot rushed into the bathroom to take care of business.

Jeannie tiptoed past the back of the sofa, its back away from the wall, facing the front door and TV, and crept into the kitchen area. She started hunting for the coffee, grinning that it was Folgers, and loaded the basket of the coffee machine. Then she took down a frying pan and pulled out the dozen eggs. Cracking them she poured cooking oil over the surface of the pan and began to make an omelet. Unseen to her, Paul’s nose twitched at the cooking smells including the hot brewing coffee dripping into its pot below.

"Hmm." he mumbled, and blinked into the morning light streaming in from the side window. He glanced down at Julia, in her blue silk nightgown and kissed the top of her head. Glancing back, he saw Jeanie with her back to them, bustling in the kitchen making breakfast. Slowly Paul slid out of bed, putting a pillow under Julia’s neck and walked up behind Jeannie. She gasped when he playfully poked her ribs and turned around with a startled yelp.

"God Paul you SCARED me!" she gasped, holding the top of her red Victoria’s secret robe shut.

"Sorry Hon, I just wanted to see if my future daughter in law was awake," Paul chuckled. She blushed, hiding the view of him with an eye shielding her face, for he was wearing little else then boxer shorts.

"Uh, can you uh… put something on?" she flushed red. "It’s like seeing my DAD running around in underwear, ya know?"

"Oh… sorry, I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or an insult but I’ll put something on," Paul laughed, giving her a quick kiss to the forehead as he scuttled off and dug through his case. He put on a loose button up shirt and sat down at the table to watch Jeannie. "Do you need help, love?"

"No," she said hastily. "You’re our guest. Just sit back and relax."

Paul heard Julia softly mumbling his name and jumped to his feet like a shot. He rushed to her side to be there when she opened her eyes, and kissed her awake. He handed her a robe, and she slipped it on just as Elliot walked out of the bathroom, averting his gaze. Elliot walked up and collided with Jeannie, holding a pot of coffee, and gave her a soft kiss.

"Ell, you are a pain in the ass, just like your father," she grumbled teasingly as they parted. "You’re one step from getting this coffee poured all over you…"

"I guess they’re awake," he whispered, glancing at Paul and Julia out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to Jeannie and sniffed the smell of bacon and eggs.

"I wasn’t sure what to make, even though I know what your father eats," she mumbled. "I’m doing crepes for him. I figured you’d want old-fashioned egg ala Simmons…"

"With the Tabasco sauce?" he grinned. "Was it your FATHER that taught you that number?"

"Well, it’s the only thing he knows how to make, since his bachelors days," she laughed, as Elliot grabbed the bowl of pancake batter she was making up. He licked a bit, and she scolded him, whacking him on the ass with a towel. He helped her by setting the table with four places, then muttering that he only had two chairs. He grabbed the desk chair and put it there with a folding director’s chair opposite. Fortunately he had a few director’s style chairs in his closet for company when they came over.

"Damn I need a smoke," he muttered.

"You can go in the bedroom," she whispered, handing him the cleaned ashtray. "I’ll just continue out here…"

"Thanks," he said, grabbing the cigarettes from the closet overhead and stuffing them into his terry robe pocket. It was striped brown and green, a very masculine present his mom had given him last Christmas. Paul wore his button up shirt, a loose plaid flannel one from LL Bean, his hairy muscular legs still deliciously visible. Jeannie shook the vision from her mind of last night’s dream, and focussed on switching from omelets to crepes. Holding Julia’s hand, Paul led her to sit down at the freshly made-up places. Jeannie had added her woman’s touch to the place, insisting ell use cloth place mats and real dishes that she’d brought from her small apartment she shared with two women, one an actress, and one a Playboy bunny, in LA. No doubt her father had something to do with her choice in only female roommates.

Pieces of colored glass collected from the beaches were put into decorative bottles, along with driftwood and some very California style paintings on the walls. She had her BC Rich Punisher, shield shaped, sitting next to Ell’s PS Washburn 2000 on stands and amplifiers in the music corner. He even saw her costume hanging up on the door, complete with the metal spikes and chainmail skirt she wore in lieu of a codpiece to make her costume more feminine. To his surprise Paul saw a stein’s makeup kit set on Elliot’s desk, and wondered how in hell she had gotten hold of it, for it looked suspiciously like one which had gone missing from the Australia show.

"Jeannie good morning," Julia said, coming over and sitting down nearest Jeannie. "Can I help?"

"No you don’t!" Jeannie scolded, setting the coffee in its pot on a hot pad; a California style tiled coaster, and four mugs next to it, all matching the Spanish American décor of her dishes. Next to it she put a large plate of omelets, fresh fruit including strawberries and honeydew, and the first of the stack of crepes. A rack with toast was also set up by the time Paul sat down.

"Jeannie you’re not feeding an army!" Paul groaned.

"Shut up you. If you leave here hungry it’s not MY fault," she waved her spatula at him. Paul groaned as Julia patted his arm. "Besides your wife to be needs to eat for 2 now…"

"Right," Julia nodded, punching Paul’s arm as Elliot reemerged from the bedroom, smelling like peppermints.

"Hey Dad," he smiled as Paul leaned up to hug him. He kissed Elliot’s forehead and slapped his back as Elliot moved to kiss Julia on the cheek.

"Hi mom," he said, winking at her as she hugged him back.

"Hi yourself, son," she grinned, glad he was trying to accept things as they stood. Jeanie Simmons returned with a carton of milk and plunked it on the table with a carafe of orange juice. Julia’s eyes bugged out at all the food she’d suddenly produced.

"Good god, Jean, are you feeding the troops?" Ell joked.

"It’s for a mother to be," Jeannie said. "You and your father can BOTH stop it now. I’m part Hungarian remember so we ALWAYS make our guests eat as much as possible."

"Yikes," Paul looked at Ell, and both started to snicker as Julia giggled. Jeannie looked at them with momentary indignation, her lip curling just like her father.

"And part Scottish too, and that’s the worst!" Elliot laughed. Paul joined in, and it was like stereo. Both had the same laugh.

"Guys, stop ganging up on her!" Julia pouted. "Besides… don’t you have room to talk? When I met your mom and dad they force fed ME, Paul…"

"Oops, busted," Elliot punched his dad in the arm.

"Ouch," he grinned as Jeanie finally sat down to join them. Before they could dig in, she stopped them. She said a short prayer in Hebrew, and then they started to dig in. Jeannie passed each item along as they all helped themselves, and noticed Paul sighing as he looked longingly at the eggs and bacon. He measured a small portion on the side as he mainly ate the fruit and the crepes with strawberry jam. Julia reached out to put out food, but Paul held up a hand and whisked the serving spoon away as he dished it out for her. Exasperated she looked at Jeanie who shot her a knowing nod.

"Friggin Stanley overprotection," Jeanie laughed, nudging Elliott. "I hope you’re not THAT much of a mother hen when WE have children!"

At the mention of children, the first Jeannie had made, Elliot leaned over and kissed her softly. She handed him the jam, and poured her a cup of hot coffee. For Julia there was plenty of skim milk, and she saw the bottle of multivitamins Paul put by her plate with a grin. Ever since they’d gotten here, he’d been hovering over her like some damn fool chaperone, keeping a close watch on her more so then usual. To her surprise, she didn’t feel as if she was in the presence of any celebrity being around Jeannie Simmons. The rock star daughter had made everyone feel right at home. Julia looked alarmed when Elliot took a bottle of Tabasco sauce and poured it over his omelet.

"I like it spicy," he smiled at her, then fed Jeannie a strip of bacon. She nibbled it from her fingers. Seeing the young couple, Paul nudged Julia and offered her a strawberry. All four ate in silence for a time, wrapped up in their respective partner’s presence. Simply watching Paul chew was a full time occupation of love for Julia, and for Jeannie, watching Elliot as he cut up his food was a delicious candy for her eyes. She noticed Jeannie’s long hair was a bit shorter, to her shoulders instead of to her backside, and wondered why. It was straightened out for a change, and she half wondered if it was to match her father’s hair in texture when he was the Demon. Dragon green eyes met smoldering black as Jeannie chewed her food slowly, glancing into Elliott’s eyes. Clearly, though Paul, they were very much in love. Had Gene had the chance to confront Elliot on making sure he treated Jeannie well? Considering what he’d heard Jeannie had been through with her last boyfriends, he felt he couldn’t blame Gene a bit in some circumstances. Except this was his SON for crying out loud.

"So Elliott, do you need any tips?" Paul asked out of the blue.

"Uh yeah dad," he flushed. "I need… um… Paul lessons…"

"I’d be happy to look at your routine… if you want me," he said.

"Um well, the other band mates they… well aren’t meeting us till tomorrow…"

"You can still dress up today, and I can watch both of you play," Paul suggested. "That is… if you don’t mind… and Julia here can be in the audience… she’s a huge KISS fan and she’ll give you that perspective…"

"Dad, just WHAT are you going to wear?" Elliot asked him.

"I have it covered," he winked, getting up and going over to his hanging bag. Elliot gasped in amazement to see the Psycho Circus costume encrusted with rhinestones. It was the real thing, and Jeannie also gasped, as if looking at the Holy Grail.

"What boots?" Jeannie asked with a critical eye. "I mean… won’t people KNOW you’re the real McCoy?"

"Not if I wear the wrong boots," Paul winked, pulling a pair of old Alive boots from his bag. They were old, very old, and taped and scratched. Jeannie and Elliot laughed, holding their sides. After breakfast, they started the preparation to pack for the trip to the expo in the nearby suburbs of New York city.

Two days later they were loading Elliot and Jeannie’s car with items. Paul mumbled to himself as he put on his sunglasses and glanced at both of them. They were wearing sunglasses also, and KISS T-shirts and jeans that made them blend in effectively. Julia had watched in amusement because they had arrived in the hotel without many incidents. He himself had painted his own makeup on, and worn a cheap wig to try and mask his own identity. Paul had sneaked up to a room adjoining theirs later, to see them trying their best to get ready. It was Saturday morning, and they were both trying to touch up their makeup.

"No, you arch the eyebrow MORE, like this," Paul argued, fixing Elliot’s makeup. He began to buff it with the transparent powder as Jeannie added her own frills to her makeup. "And Jean, your dad doesn’t use red…"

"It’s MY makeup," she said sternly. "I’m not Gene, I’m Jeannie."

"Sorry," Paul mumbled as Elliot held up a warning hand. Jeannie was adding red to the end of her points, and smirching red around her eyes as she added the black. All ready Paul had painted on his makeup flawlessly, having helped Elliot through his without many problems. She had her black tube top and leggings on already, her bangs pulled up into a topknot and hair falling around her shoulders. He had to admit she was very at home in the makeup and it was eerie to see. Especially his own son, whose face was markedly different in some ways then his own, his face more rounded from youth, and when the last touch was added, Paul stood back with a nod of appreciation.

"Don’t smile too much," Paul warned him. "The makeup will crack. And when you pout, draw your cheeks in a bit…"

Julia watched in silent appreciation as wisdom and innate KISStory was being passed from one generation to the next. She couldn’t wait to see the other two members in their get ups. She had helped Jeannie into her costume and as Jeannie stood up, pulling off the scrunchie, she watched Gene’s daughter sit down on the bed to get her boots on. Elliot helped her to buckle on the spiked harness and lace up her prototype dragon boots. Last was the spiked collar choker, and spiked bracelets she had added, with the metal Xena type skirt. She began to stomp around to get into character while Paul helped Elliot get his cuffs on and properly aligned.

"I brought something else for your costume," he said, pulling out a white garment bag.

"What dad?"

"No Paul would be complete without this," he said, pulling out one of his feathered coats. Eliot’s jaw dropped as Paul held it up for him to put on.

"NO frigging way! I can’t wear that…"

"Yes you can, and you will," Paul smiled, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Now you can be authentic down to the last detail. You’ll win that trib battle of the bands for sure." Paul was referring to the KISS tribute band contest, among four KISS bands including Black Diamond, the all female band, Hotter then Hell, KISS Nation, Strutter, and Jeannie and Ell’s band, called KISStizens.

"God, I’m gonna fucking loose," Elliot mumbled. "The best tribs are playing, and we’re on last…"

"Easy son, just have fun," Paul urged, helping him into his boots. He put on his own costume, struggling into the top as Julia pulled it down, and belted his large leather belt with the chains hanging along it. Thrusting his feet into the old style star studded boots; he laced them up and taped them, then handed the roll of duct tape to Elliot. Paul helped him tape his boots so they wouldn’t fly off in the course of the performance. He slipped on his knee brace overtop his spandex, a black tubular item with the words Body Glove on it, and stood back to face his handiwork. Grabbing Jeannie’s hair spray he began to style Elliot’s hair in the proper manner, till Elliot was finally done.

"Do I pass inspection?" he chuckled.

"You do, you look PERFECT," Paul nodded. Elliot glowed in appreciation, for this was a rare compliment from his father.

"Ready to meet the others?" Jeannie asked, Paul helping her to stand up in her boots. Patiently Julia waited by the bed as Paul brushed off both their costumes and smiled. He picked up his camera and snapped pictures while they both posed. He offered her his hand and helped Julia up, smoothing out her KISS T-shirt and rubbing her belly. Arm around her waist, he led the way out of the hotel room, and waved to Elliot and Jeannie as they made their way to Ty and Mona’s room.

Tyler was just helping Mona zip up her costume when they heard the knock. The night before they’d all gotten together for planning as they met for a final rehearsal, and neither had any idea that Paul Stanley himself was in the hotel. Mona answered the door, her makeup flawless, for Tyler had painted it on for her. She squawked happily as she saw Elliot and Jeannie there, and clapped her hands together nervously as they strutted in on their seven inch heels.

"You guys are the shit!" she laughed, hugging Jeannie as Tyler and Elliot shook hands. Tyler’s lace up Catman Vest looked almost authentic; not to mention the striped vest with the lucky cat with its tail twined into a 3. Even his boots and other accoutrements smacked of authentic Peter Criss. Even his makeup and hair were a close match for the original, down to the gum he was chewing nervously.

"Damn you are both gonna give them a run for their money," he smiled, dimples in his cheeks that made Elliot feel a strange sense of familiarity. All signs of his blonde hair were masked by the blue black hair dye. Even Mona’s hair was dyed dark brown to match Ace’s, all sign of her red totally gone. It stunned Jeanie for a moment how much the pair looked so close to the originals. Smiling shyly, Mona’s eyes poured over Jeanie’s costume. The four friends all gathered their last items and moved out of the room, shutting the door behind them. As they walked along, KISS fans routinely stopped them for a picture. They all posed in classic KISS style; interacting and laughing together like old friends. Mona was thrilled with how many men drooled over her and Jeanie, and equally the women were drawn to Tyler and Elliott as they walked into the patio courtyard to watch the first few tribute bands go on. Already Strutter was proving to be a hard act to follow, and Jeannie noticed the area was crammed with patrons. Some even camped out on their balconies overlooking the pool, snapping pictures and taking videos from nine or ten floors up.

All eyes waited for the first tribute band, but when the next band was ready to go on, there was a delay. Jeannie and Elliot had been waiting backstage when they heard the announcement. Frantic, Jeff rushed back to where they were sipping cold water.

"What’s gotten into you?" Tyler asked.

"It’s chaos! Strutter went off, but we just found out that the next band can’t make it cause they have food poisoning! And so KiSS Nation is going on instead…"

"Shit, food poisoning?" Jeannie asked, glancing up at Jeff. Elliot groaned.

"What does tat mean for us?" Mona asked.

"We’ll have to go on after KISS nation…"

"What about Hotter then Hell?" asked Elliot.

"Uh, their van broke down… they won’t be here till tomorrow…" Jeff mumbled.

"Crap… but the pyro," Tyler mumbled.

"WE can handle it. Peter Criss is gonna do some Q and A while we wait…" Jeff said, with a sigh. "Sorry guys, I hope you can handle it earlier.

"No sweat," Jeannie said. "Less competition this way."

"Whatever you say," mumbled Mona, petrified. She clutched her guitar in a confusion of numb realization. It was really going to happen in front of die hard kiss fans, and she was going to play the role of someone she hardly knew. Her space boots seemed to be leaden weights as she sat there stunned.

"Relax," Tyler patted her on the shoulder. "Just gotta follow KISS nation, that’s all…"

"But they sound like they are better then us!" she wailed. "We’re DEAD! And Black Diamond, they really cleaned house!"

"We aren’t," Tyler sighed, sitting next to her. "We’ll do the best we can."

"Oh god," Mona groaned. Tyler put his arm around her, stroking her shoulder. Jeannie sighed and moved over to pull up her chair near Mona.

"Honey, it’s okay," Jeannie whispered. "The most important thing is to have fun. If you don’t then it’s not worth doing. We worked hard, you most of all, so we’ll be fine…"

"You promise?" she asked.

"Sure, and if you trip over the cords that’s part of the act," Elliot grinned.

Still only moderately convinced, Mona glanced up at them tentatively. She drew in a big sigh and said, "If you guys say so…"

"WE don’t," Jeannie smiled. "We know so!"

Gene Simmons stood on his balcony, overlooking the vista from his penthouse suite. All was in readiness, and he would make his way down soon when they would present the award for the costume contest. However, he wouldn’t reveal his true identity till after the last band went on. He had thoroughly enjoyed the initial performance of the all girl band Black Diamond, and Strutter had given a good account of themselves. Now on to Hotter then Hell a personal favorite, and KISS nation.

"Mr. Simmons, we’re down two bands," his security guard Steve tapped in on the shoulder.

"What?" Gene asked, surprised. He set down his glass of fresca and turned to his guard.

"That’s right. Hotter then Hell won’t be here till tomorrow," said Steve, wiping sweat from his face. "And one other band got food poisoning…"

"Shit…" Gene mumbled. "Not much of a competition…"

"Well we still have KISS nation, and the last band…" he said.

"Well the show must go on," Gene said firmly. "Let’s get ready to do the signing early, just in case… and maybe we can move up the costume contest to fill some time…"

"Right," Steve nodded. "I’ll tell them to expect you when?"

"I’ll be ready to present the award for the costume contest after the last band," he said.

"Well we still have KISS nation, and the last band," he said.

"Well the show must go on," Gene said firmly. "Let’s get ready to do the signing early, just in case… and maybe we can move up the costume contest to fill some time…"

"Right," Steve nodded. "I’ll tell them to expect you when?"

"I’ll be ready to present the award for the costume contest after the last band," he said. Secretly he wanted to wait for an opportune moment to again challenge the suitor to his daughter’s affections. Since she had not contacted him regularly since her last couple phone calls, Gene felt a showdown was due. To find out once and for all what Elliott's intentions towards Jeannie were. This marriage business had him very concerned to say the least.

Again Gene rose and peered out the balcony window. Glancing down he saw KISS nation setting up for their performance as the announcer came to center stage. Down in that mass of black T-shirts was his daughter somewhere, and he couldn’t wait to see what justice she’d do to the Demon legacy. Judging from the videos he was well pleased at her command of the things that had made him famous. After all, she was a Simmons wasn’t she?

"You seem pretty pleased with yourself," a female voice said from the shadows.

"Well wouldn’t you be? I mean that’s our daughter down there," Gene laughed, jamming his foot into one dragon boot, black leather and zipping it up.

"Yes, I know," Ray said as she moved out of the hot tub, and wrapped a robe around her. Still wet, she wrapped her hair in a towel and walked towards him. Picking up his other boot she handed it to him, and he struggled to pull it on.

"I have to admit this whole tribute thing is amusing," Gene laughed, zipping his other boot up with a grunt of effort. "But she’s worked hard… these past few weeks…"

"Don’t’ forget Elliott," Ray said, sitting next to him on the arm of the chair. She picked up his glass and sipped from it, reducing the level of the liquid to half.

"Yeah, who can," Gene muttered. "Help me with this bit… I can never get the damn straps aligned right…"

"Makes me wonder if you’re ever going to warm up to him," Ray said, reaching behind him to grip the strap of his codpiece and anchor it to the back of his belt. She fastened the back of his halter like a pro, dusting off the contraption of leather and spikes that she remembered so well for so many years.

"I will, but I enjoy torturing the hell out of him a bit first," Gene joked.

"Very funny, Mr. Macho man," she whacked him on the rear.

"Hey, I’m just joking, honest!" Gene held up his hands in surrender. "Shit woman, you can’t take a joke?"

"Not when our daughter’s happiness is at stake," Ray chided him. "You really ARE a piece of work!"

"But she’s my baby… our baby, Ray," Gene whined playfully. "You can’t admit to me you aren’t the LEAST bit concerned about her and… Elliot… I mean this is ELLIOTT we’re talking about! My best friends SON!"

"And you’re scared he’ll be a womanizing waistoid living off his dad’s money?" Ray asked, hand on her hip. "Haven’t you even GIVEN him the chance to prove himself. Not to mention that little stunt you pulled in Australia? Tommy THAYER? My GOD what were you thinking?"

"Haven’t we covered that?" Gene sighed, flopping down on the couch again. "I SAID I was sorry…"

"I’m not the one you should have apologized to. Jeanie was still sore… and now you’re bitching to me that she hardly every calls you. I wonder why…"

"Ray, I thought you said you were on my side," he grumbled.

"I am," she said, sitting down next to him, and patting a spandex clad thigh. "Believe me I know you had the best of intentions, even if you are a sick twisted individual in how you carry them out…"

"She’s your daughter too," Gene answered.

"I know. We can’t send her back," Ray joked. "Look, why don’t you just have a talk with Elliot, man to man and get this straightened out. Get to know him instead of assuming? Do you think you have any more control over Jeannie’s life then YOUR mother did when you were Jeannie’s age…"

"No," Gene said.

"And if you say it’s different cause you’re a man I’ll smack you, Chaim," she said.

Gene winced at the familiar use of his name. He mumbled something under his breath, and silently cursed how well this woman knew him. Only his own mother and a few others could look into his head and see how the wheels turned. It brought back uncomfortable realizations, and he felt naked and vulnerable, even though he was clad in his demon armor and persona. How could one woman have such power over him even now? Easy, because they had been through hell together, and the bond of a child. Only Shannon knew what that was like, and she lived with him the last twenty years, unlike Ray. However Ray had been there from the beginning. He had invited her here to share in the pleasure of his company and the excitement of seeing their daughter perform for the public in such a capacity, and so far they had enjoyed each other as well, as they had on many occasions.

"Give me a break," he sighed, glancing at her through the mask of makeup. "Please? I promise I’ll try… just… I’ve got ONE hell of a headache and I was wondering if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, and Shannon isn’t here…"

"I know, you big goon, c’mere…" she said as he playfully lay across the sofa and put his head in her lap. She stroked his hair back from his face, set in place by the makeup powder. He looked so silly and endearingly pathetic with his boots hooked over the end of the sofa, and his head in her lap. Her fingers rubbed at his temples, just at the boundary of hair where only a fraction of his skin was still visible. Distantly he tuned into the Q and A session from Peter Criss that surged up from below as Gene relaxed into her soothing massage.

Peter Criss waved to his fans eagerly as he readied himself for the next question. There had been some doozies in the last clutch, and he was waiting for another, more easy question to answer. Mona, needing some air, had let Tyler take her out to watch the interview. She stood next to him, her hand gripping his as they stood near the front of the crowd and watched his response to the various questions.

"Question in the back, Mr. Criss, lady with red hair," the MC spoke.

"Yes?" Peter asked.

"What is your opinion of the KISS rubber ducks currently out on the market?"

"WHAT?" Peter asked, stunned by the question. Everyone laughed and muttered at Peter’s perplexed look, glancing in anxiousness as they waited for his reply.

"Kiss rubber ducks," the MC repeated. "They saw them for sale on E Bay…"

"Let me start out by saying I don’t even keep TRACK of what Gene puts out in the way of KISS merchandise, folks," Peter chuckled after the reality set in. "And what he wants to do with his business I have no control over. I don’t even bother to log onto KOL at all. I’m just with KISS cause I wanna play one last time… and what GENE wants to do is his concern… so thanks for your question miss…"

"Man in the back row, red baseball cap!" the MC pointed to him.

"Peter, I just wanted to take the time to thank you, you ARE the Catman, and nobody in your makeup can take your place man. You inspired me to pick up the drumsticks 30 years ago, and you ROCK!" the man said clearly.

"Thanks a lot, man, that’s really kind of you to say so!" Peter smiled. "And all respect to the people who have been in the band, but it really makes a difference to see you all out here, I see people in my makeup… it just tells me that you guys WANT me here… and that’s why I’m here… for you…"

"Next question," the MC said. "Lady in Ace costume, front row…"

"Yes miss?" Peter asked, glancing down at Mona, who stood nervously.

"Mr. Criss… I wanted to know… what was special about when you first played with Gene and Paul, and Ace…" she stammered. "Like what exactly did you know was different about this group? Did you get some vibe that THESE were THE people you wanted to play with that you’d be able to make it big?"

Peter waited patiently as the MC repeated the question, and scratched his head for a moment before he answered. "Good question little girl. I guess I didn’t KNOW at the time that we WOULD make it big, but the energy and the fun I had playing with Paul, Ace and Gene just told me that this place was where I wanted to be. We worked hard and we played hard, and that’s a time in my life I look back on with pride. Cause we were close. And that energy, I don’t think you could ever capture that again…"

"Thank you!" Mona blurted out. Tyler stroked her shoulder as they moved onto the next question. As an anonymous girl in the crowd she had gotten her five minutes of fame, and it was enough that she momentarily forgot who was right beside her, Catman makeup and all. The rest of Peter’s questions faded as she let Tyler lead her to the side, and get first in line to get an item autographed by him. Already Gigi Criss was sitting to one side, setting up the table to sell drumheads and pictures for Peter to sign. Q and A wrapped up within another hour, and it was time for Peter to go to the table at the back of the patio area to start signing.

"Mr. Criss will now start to sign autographs. Your pass will get you one signature in line. The tribute bands will continue to play as you wait, and if you buy a drum head or a picture Peter will sign that and one more item," the MC instructed. "Please line up behind the green ropes. And don’t’ despair, cause KISS Nation is up NEXT to rock you on your ASS!"

Tyler led her by her hand to stand first in line. Anxiously she waited as she passed her item to Peter, and Tyler held the camera. Peter smiled up at her and she passed him the photograph in her mom’s old magazine. "Hi there little girl, great costume," he said.

"Mr. Criss I absolutely love you," Mona blurted out. "And well…"

"C’mon over here… is this your friend in the Catman suit? C’mon over here… little lady deserves a shot with both Cat men," Peter laughed as he waved Tyler over. Passing his camera to a security guard, Tyler stood on Mona’s other side as Peter stepped away from the table to put his arm around Mona’s waist. Bracketed by Tyler and Peter, she managed a movie star smile before she almost collapsed in a dead faint.

After her the other fans filed in, their various items ready for Peter to sign. Before Mona could stumble offstage, Peter whispered into her ear, "You’re a great gal, Mona. I want to talk to both of you later… in my room. And rock out. I know you can both do me proud!"

"Oh god, he KNOWS my name!" she whimpered as Peter Criss himself kissed her ear, and gave Tyler a big hug. Patting him on the back, he grinned and let Tyler lead a star struck Mona to one side. Both of them sat down by Gigi, and Mona groaned as the young blond woman fixed her gaze into Mona’s face. She smiled warmly, holding her hand out to Mona and Tyler.

"Hello there, are you Mona?" she asked. "I’m Gigi…"

"Hey, Gigi," Tyler said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Gigi hugged him and tentatively kissed his makeup as not to smudge it. She hugged Mona warmly and gave the stunned girl a kiss. Mona collapsed into the empty chair by Gigi, gasping with shock and awe.

"Oh my god… it is so freaking cool to meet you!" she babbled.

"She’s a big fan of Peter Criss," Tyler laughed. "I was wondering if you could use some help here selling some things…"

"Sure…" she said. "The drum heads are 15, and the photos are 10… and the cash box is here… Mona… relax dear you’re okay…"

"S… sure… Mrs. Criss," Mona babbled as Gigi squeezed her hand and rubbed her shoulder.

"So, tell me about yourself. I want to know all about you two and how you met," she said, taking both their hands. Tyler coughed a bit under her questioning gaze. Numbly Mona took money and passed drumheads for the next hour or so as KISS Nation exploded onto the concert stage. She could hardly believe this wasn’t some strange dream and any minute she’d wake up from it like Cinderella. Nothing ever good happened to her, did it? Or was Tyler a prince among men, really ready to take her away from the semblance of a life she had and turn it into something beautiful and happily ever after? Rock royalty, and she was on the doorstep of a new phase in life. This was it, or was it?

"God, they are ripping up the stage," Gene muttered as he glanced down at KISS Nation’s riveting performance.

"Yes, they sure are," Ray said, moving next to Gene as they heard the hard fast driving beat of Creatures of the Night. Down below the line of autograph hunters curled around the courtyard of the hotel, as Peter scrawled his John Handcock on merchandise and posed for pictures as quickly and as graciously as he could. Gene and Ray had a bird’s eye view of the festivities, standing together on the balcony.

Slowly Gene slipped his hand up Ray’s back, rubbing her through the cloth of her KISS t-shirt bearing the four solo album portraits. Feeling his soft touch working up her spine she hummed and let Gene massage the kinks out. Closing her eyes transported her back to a simpler time so many years ago. Curling her hand around her champagne glass she sipped a bit and sighed, leaning against Gene who towered over her.

"Hundred for your thoughts?" Gene joked, slipping a 100 dollar bill into her waistband.

"Gene, that’s a penny," she chuckled, glancing down at the bill there at her hip.

"Inflation," Gene joked. "What’s going on in that head of yours, beautiful?"

"Just remembering old times," she sighed.

"You’re getting sentimental on me, Ray?" Gene asked, lightly stroking her ass thorugh her jeans. For a woman close to his age she had certainly kept her years as well as he, with no need for plastic surgury.

"Yeah, our little girl is on next," she sighed, stroking his back under his bat wing cloak. He pulled her close to his hip and glanced down as Paulie, the lead singer strutted across the stage and invited the young women to climb up for his performance of "Take It Off". Gene had to admit that Carlos, the young Gene look alike portraying him did a fair job of bass playing, and recreating the stomping moves, even if he did seem a bit on the skinny side for a Gene.