January 21, 1977

I WALKED INTO THE HOTEL  RESTAURANT with the rest of the group, all of us moving quietly, as if we were thieves about to make the hit of the century. I could feel the excitement in my lower stomach as I walked closely after Bill. I allowed myself to look around. We were all here, even Peter who had an argument with Paul yesterday morning and still wasn't talking to him had gotten up early to take part in the surprise. A part of me wondered if Lydia wasn't the one one who kicked him out of bed, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.

The birthday boy was still sleeping upstairs and Gene assured us he had no idea about anything we had planned. We made sure the cake was ordered and the guitar was under the table, hardly able to be seen because of the long tablecloth. Peter, Ace, Lydia, Gene, Bill and I had decided to share the price and make it a present from all of us. When everything was ready, we sat down and waited, pretending everything was as usual.

I celebrated Christmas pissed and sick. My aunt invited me to come over for dinner and despite I have gained a few pounds for the past month, I couldn't say no to her. I got home early though, having to gather my luggage, since the tour resumed on December 27th.

I admit I overslept most of the days, cherishing the time I didn't have to go to bed that late. I paid my rent in advance for the following few months and even went shopping for the first time in months. I still couldn't afford to go into any of the shops on the street Gene and I visited a couple of days ago, no matter how much I had started making since I got to work for Kiss. Money wasn't a problem now, my neighbors were. I didn't hear them discuss me again, but that didn't mean they weren't. I caught them to throw me sympathetic looks when they greeted me, making sure I understood how bad they felt for me for having to make my living from being around these filthy rock stars.

When we took off a few days later, Gene gave me a conspiratorial wink before taking his seat. Just like I had thought, Amanda wasn't sitting next to Paul, who had his chin leaning on his palm as he was starting through the window. Even when Gene nudged him a little to try to attract his attention and start a conversation, the singer quickly lost interest and looked at the jet track again. He looked so fucked up, that at some point his friend decided to just leave him on his own and moved to sit next to Bill.

No matter how hurt Paul looked, it was impressive how quick his flings with groupies started again. It took him a little more than a week to bring the first woman to his room, while all of us politely pretended his ex-girlfriend never existed. I started to wonder if it wasn't some sort of defence mechanism, a way for Paul to make himself feel better. I had realized soon after joining the band crew that the Paul Stanley that thaught me how to draw in the afternoon heat and the Starchild were two very different people.

Despite we tried not to to to order anything and wait for Paul instead, we gave up at the first fifteen minutes and every one ordered a coffee. But considering we woke up an hour and a half earlier than usual, we were forgiven, I guess.

Ace had a suspicious smile on his face and I could see Gene throwing him glares every now and then. 'If you screw something up, ' he was promising silently with every look, 'I'm going to kill you.' Ace didn't seem bothered by it and grinned at Gene's face.

At some point, we saw Paul walk down the stairs of the restaurant and we all shushed Ace, who was laughing at something along with Peter. He tried to protest, but all he got was another hiss.

"C'mon guys, it's his birthday, not his funeral, " he whispered, pouting and crossing his arms across his chest.

No one had time to argue, since the singer strolled casually between the tables, making his way to us.

"Good morning, " he greeted, looking at us with his eyebrows raised. We probably looked like a group of preschoolers, sitting on our places after the teacher walked in and pretending we weren't chatting while he was gone.

Lydia, who was sitting closest to the end of the table where Paul was, was the first one to act. She stood up and opened her arms with a smile and walked to the singer, giving him a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, Paul, " she exclaimed, making the man smile widely, taking his seat on the only free chair. Ace put his hand in the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a paper birthday hat with a caption that read 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY', one of those with an elastic band to keep them on the head. He demanded to place it on Paul's head and with a sigh, the singer let him balance it on top of his curly hair. We gave him the guitar and when the waitress brought the cake, Paul was speechless. He promised to take us to one of the many clubs in the city after the concert to, as he said, to make sure we celebrated the way we deserved.

"That's what I expected from you Paul, " Ace stated, " Sex and girls and boose is all we need for a night of fun."

"I thought sex and girls came together, " Lydia called out, a smirk growing on his face. "but I guess you know better."

Ace shook his head with a laugh, winking at the woman. The rest of the breakfast went in jokes and teasing remarks and nothing seemed to be able to darken the mood today.

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The show itself was as lively and energetic as any other. I had no idea how were the boys going to handle spending the rest of the night in the club, but I guessed I shouldn't underestimate them. After I saw Ace not pass out after a bottle and a half of strong liquor, nothing could surprised me anymore.

When we arrived back in the hotel, we had around half an hour to change an head straight for the club. I chose a simple navy blue shirt along with a pair of black jeans, pretty different from the outfit Jen had on. She seemed like she was aiming to show just as much skin as she could, despite it was mid-January. A part of me to admired how comfortable she felt in her own skin. I wished I felt confident enough to dress like that. I picked the black package I had prepared earlier that day and left the room.

When we met down in the lobby, I noticed everyone had dressed up. Paul was probably the most impressive one, wearing a fitting white button-up shirt that sculptured his body perfectly. Ace seemed the most excited of us all, ready to get to know the city's night life up close. When I teased him about it, he giggled and ruffled my hair, laughing even louder when I shrieked, looking at the closest mirroring surface to try to fix the damage.

We arrived at the club shortly after and tried to find a place to sit in the crowded area. Paul had called earlier in the day to reserve a booth for us. Gene, Paul, Ace, Jen and I were at the bar to get drinks and bring them back to the booth. Bill had met an old pal and was nowhere to be seen and Peter and Lydia had started making out on the lounge the moment they sat down. Gene agreed to come help us being them something to drink, only after teasing them about it.

That was exactly the moment shit hit the fan.

Paul was shoved to the side and then we heard a loud voice speak. "God, I'm so sorry man I didn't mean to," a tall man apologized and when he looked at Paul, his jaw dropped. I wondered how he got recognized do quickly until the voice spoke again.

"Stan?! Stanley Eisen is that you? Man we haven't seen each other since highschool," he said, reaching out his hand.

I could see Paul's eyes widen and the hint of panic when he gulped and shook the man's hand. I noticed Gene lean on the bar a little, eyeing the man from head to toe. I decided to follow the example of the rest and pretend I wasn't paying attention to the conversation. I moved next to Ace who was starting at the liquor shelf in silence, but it was obvious that he was eavesdropping.

"So, how have you been?" The man continued, not noticing the obvious signs that Paul wanted to escape the conversation immediately.

"Good, you?"

"Nah, pretty much the same. I'm working in a furniture store, as a porter. What are you doing in town? Are you here for that concert too?"

"I'm on a business trip, so to speak."

When Paul said that, I noticed Ace's dark eyebrows shoot up. I punched his shoulder lightly, shaking my head at him with a scolding look. He stared at me, then lowered his head to whisper in my ear.

"When you stop listening too, then you're allowed to scold me," he insisted quietly. I groaned silently, making him grin.

"Gossiper, " he whispered again, repeating the words I had said to him a few weeks earlier when we discussed the messy relationships the band members had. I shoved him to the side and he giggled, the familiar high-pitched sound lost in the loud room.

We both turned around to look at the situation. Paul was leaning against the bar, gaining a more confident posture with every second, the panic on his face stepping away to reveal confidence and superiority.

"What do you mean a business trip?"

Paul was playing with the pendant he was always wearing around his neck when he delivered the blow. "I'm in Kiss."

The other man's eyes seemed like they were about to fly out of his skull. "No way."

Paul shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal, but he was obvoiusly trying to hide the smirk that made it's way up his face. Ace turned back to face the bar, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips. I realized that even though he wasn't that close to Paul, he was silently rooting for him.

The other man got so excited that I almost expected him to start jumping around. He said a few other things to Paul and I was about to take my drink and go to the booth until something caught my attention.

"I always knew you were going to be a rock star. Ah, I remember when we were kids and we kept making fun of you all the time."

I turned to look at Paul, who's eyes had suddenly turned to ice. When I saw the muscles of his jaw flex when he gritted his teeth, I almost afraid for the guy in front of him. Who didn't know when to shut up.

"What did we use to call you? Stanley the one-eared monster? And now you're in Kiss! Damn, God has a sense of humor!"

Paul forced a smile and grabbed the two cups the barman had put in front of him. "He does, doesn't it?" He hissed, shaking the curly mane away from his face and heading to our booth, nose high up in the air. The other man seemed shocked at this offended reaction, like he hadn't just mocked of his former classmate in front of half his friends. His confused reaction suddenly turned into obvious inconvenience as Gene walked the two steps that separated them. Even without the gigantic heels, the Demon stood at least a foot taller than him and the expression on his face wasn't making him seem any less threatening. I felt Ace put a hand on the small of my back and silently guide me to the lounge, making me walk in front of him. I was about to ask him what was Gene going to do when I turned around and saw the bassist walk a few steps behind us, the same menacing look on his rough features.

We took our seats and despite the tension, we somehow managed to start and keep a conversation. We all moved from place to place, walking to the bar and to the dance floor. Something felt completely out of place until I noticed the birthday boy was nowhere to be seen.

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Paul was sitting on the curb of the sidewalk outside the club, his elbows resting on his knees. The boiling anger was gone and now he was left alone with this oppressive feeling of shame and self-pity. He was freezing in his white button-up, but he didn't really care. At least the ground wasn't wet, so he could sit without bothering about a huge damp stain on the back of his pants. Not that it mattered at this point anyway. He sighed looking up at the cloudy January sky. There wasn't a single star in the sky, maybe they didn't want to be witnesses of his humiliation too.

Great, he wanted to be alone.

He wondered what would be worse, if his friends turned their backs on him and treated him like some freak, or if they started pitting him. The second one seemed much more realistic. If that douche didn't happen to be there, he might have said this was his best birthday ever. However, the guys would treat him like a sensitive baby now, and Lillian probably wouldn't even bother to look at him again. He couldn't understand why this thought scared him that much.

He had thought that he had made it. The days of that nervous Jewish boy were long gone. Now he was the Starchild, the frontman of the hottest band in the world, he probably had enough money to buy half of his old neighborhood. Yet it took one nickname, four stupid words to get him back to those days, when he was walking with his head down all the time.

He was so deep in thought that he almost jumped off his seat in surprise when he felt something being thrown over his shoulders. He inhaled the familiar smell of leather and noticed the sleeve of his jacket hanging loosely over his arm.

"Thanks," he murmured, hoping that the person was quickly going to return back to the building and leave him alone in the night. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

"It's okay, " he heard a familiar voice and the person took a seat next to him on the pavement, "if you get sick Bill will probably make me share my mint candy with you and I don't want that to happen."

"You have mint candy?"

Silence.

"Nope."

Paul couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. "What are you even doing here?"

"The place got a little too overcrowded for me. I had to push my way to the lounge."

Paul looked at Lillian, who took a strand of her dark brown hair and brought it to her nose. "Besides, I think I'll never be able to wash away the smell of cigarettes." She then brought her nose to the sleeve of her grey coat and inhaled, wrinkling her nose. "God, this stinks too."

The singer shook his head, staring back to the ground. Her company made him nervous, yet still, a part of him enjoyed the fact that she had come. A quiet voice in his head whispered that perhaps someone cared about him too. Yet the other part of him, stronger and more prideful, denied to let anyone coddle him. He wasn't that scared kid anymore.

He waited for her to speak, to let her try to make him talk about what had happened less than an hour before in the club. He waited for her to speak so he could push her away immediately.

"Oh I was about to forget why I even came," she said suddenly, slapping her palm over her forehead, "I just wanted to catch you when you're on your own to give you something," she explained, reaching out to her other side and picking something up from the ground. She then passed him a book-sized object, packed in simple black wrapping paper. He looked up at her face, but she was staring at her feet.

"I just didn't want to come to the party empty-handed. And you always sketch on some papers that you probably lose somewhere soon after, so I decided you could use that."

His unwrapped the paper quickly and underneath the layers, he found a light, leather-bound notebook. When he went through it, he realized it wasn't a notebook, but a sketchbook, one of those with the thick, professional types of sheets that didn't leave smudges on the other end of the page. On the inside of the front cover was a small note, reading 'Keep rocking, Starchild' and the date, written in neat handwriting with what seemed like a fountain pen. He ran his palm over the rough pages, feeling the texture of the paper underneath his fingertips.

"Wow, " he said, looking over to her, noticing a tingle of pride on her eyes and a smile formed on her face. She placed her hands on the ground an pushed herself up in one quick motion, fixing her coat. Before he could even think, Paul reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Wait, " he started, but once she looked at him with her eyebrow raised, the words caught in his throat, "I didn't say thank you."

"You're welcome, " she answered, shrugging her shoulders and moving her hand from his grasp. "It's not a big deal anyway. Wanna go there with me?" She nodded her head to the small 24/7 grocery store on the other end of the road, changing the subject immediately. After a moment of thinking, Paul nodded his head.

"Sure."

"Great, " she smiled and reached her arm for him to help him stand up. He shook his head and jumped to his feet, making her roll her eyes.

"I hope they have something fresh baked," she admired quietly, putting her hands in her pockets, "I'm starving."

"In 1 in the morning? Sure, they have been baking for you the whole night, waiting for you to grace them with your appearance."

"Don't be a dick, Paulie."

He laughed at the pet name as they crossed the street and entered the shop. Lillian headed to the stash with the baked goods, while Paul decided to go get himself something to drink. He picked a bottle of Coke and his mind drifted back to the events in the club. He felt the tension in the muscles on his face when he frowned, closing the door of the fridge perhaps a little too harder than he had to. The whole cooler shook at the violent movement. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, turning around to go find his friend.

By the time he want at the cashier to pay Lillian was already waiting for him. She had a paper bag in her hands and Paul smiled at the thought that perhaps she had found what she wanted. When she noticed him she waved the bag in the air triumphantly, making the singer shake his head. She had something else in her other fist, but he couldn't see what it was from there. He saw her eyes dart from him to the guy behind the cashier, a playful smirk playing on her lips. Paul gave her a confused look and examined him.

The guy was perhaps a couple of years older than him and seemed absolutely normal, perhaps a little tired considering he was working a night shift. The only thing that could be found out of the ordinary was the black KISS t-shirt with the 'Destroyer' album cover that he was wearing. Paul looked back at Lillian and smirked as well.

The man greeted him politely and Paul looked back at him. "Nice tee, " he said with a smile. The man at the cashier looked up at him with confusion, then down at his shirt.

"Thanks, man, " he answered, looking at Paul closely, perhaps trying to figure out what was it that seemed familiar in his client, "Do you listen to them?"

Paul grinned. "From time to time, " he admitted, raising his shoulders. He heard a quiet giggle and both men turned their heads to the sound. The only thing they saw was Lillian, who seemed much more interested with the content of her paper bag.

Paul paid and said goodbye to the man, walking toward the woman. When they were out of the store, she looked behind over her shoulder. Paul followed her gaze and saw the man leaning over the cashier, his eyes wide. Lillian smirked and waved at him, making Paul shove her shoulder gently, making her laugh.

When they neared the club again, she put her hand in the bag and pulled out a mini chocolate muffin. She shoved her hand in her pocket and now Paul could see that she had a pack of birthday candles and a lighter. As he was standing there in silence, she quickly unpacked them and fixed one of the candles in the muffin, lighting it up. The look of shyness returned once again to her face when she gave him the cupcake.

Paul was beyond words.

"You didn't need to do that," he said when he was fit to speak again, taking the sweet and feeling a small blush creep it's way up his skin. He hoped he could blame it on the cold.

Lillian raised her shoulders, finally looking up at Paul's eyes. "Nobody deserves to be treated like that. If you ever need to talk about —" she didn't finish her sentence, shaking her head and letting out a soft sigh. "Just blow the candles before the wind does it for you."

Paul followed her command, looking down at the colorful one stick in the impromptu cake and blew the candle, making a wish. A wish way too important to risk telling it to anyone and risk that it won't come true. So he kept it to himself.

Lillian looked behind him at the club and back at the singer. "I think I'm gonna head back inside. Are you coming?"

"In a moment."

She nodded and just as she was about to pass near him, Paul turned around. "Hey," he called, making her turn around and look at him again, "wanna share?"

She smiled softly, letting her gaze fall back to the ground. "Nah, I'm not hungry," she answered looking back up at him. "Happy birthday Paul," she said smiling at him for one last time, returning back to the club and leaving the singer alone with his thoughts.

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Thank you all for over 1K reads. You rock guys. Pun 100% intended ❤️