"HERE, " GENE THREW THE ENVELOPE on the desk in front of me, ignoring the look of absolute confusion on my face. I had just found a quiet room to try and do all the work I had simply tried to ignore due to how tired I was for the past few days. Going to bed that late every night wasn't doing wonders to my body and I had to cope with horrible headaches every now and then

"What is in there?"

"Just open it."

I eyed him suspiciously and grabbed the envelope from the table, running my fingers over the paper. With one quick movement, I tore it open, revealing it's content.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, trying not to sound that offended as I felt. The two backstage passes for the show in Madison Square Garden were laying in my lap, yet felt like a slap in my face. "You said there was almost no chance for you to give me this."

"I changed my mind, " he stated, raising his shoulders like the conversation was already over. I wasn't ready to let it go though. I suspected what made Gene change his mind and I wasn't ready to let my action make me feel like some manipulative bitch. It was just a small gesture, from a friend to a friend, nothing to do with ill thoughts or expectation of favors.

"Does this have anything to do with Paul?" I decided to ask openly, figuring that getting straight to the point would be the best plan when it came to talking to Gene. The bassist raised his eyebrow, like he had no idea what I was speaking of. The act itself made him look like he was about to burst in rage, so I immediately regretted asking in the first place.

"Okay, look, " he finally admitted, raising his hands up in surrender. "The four of us talked yesterday. Paul said he would gladly meet your cousin and since Ace and Peter said yes, I was outvoted. Don't make this a bigger deal than it is."

I nodded silently and stared the passes, surprised by the angry reaction. I sneaked a look at Gene. He had his grumpy-scary face on this morning and didn't seem in the mood for our usual joking banter. Even though he was standing a few feet away, I could notice the dark circles underneath his black eyes, which instead of shining mischievously like they normally did, were now tired. And angry. Something had happened and Gene was pissed.

I decided not to play with fire and irritate the bassist more than he had already been, so I took the envelope, thanking quietly. Gene mumbled a 'you're welcome' under his breath and turned on his heel, the marching out of the room.

I left the space after a while, hurrying down the corridor with all the paperwork in my hands, almost convinced that if we got late, I was going to be the reason. I grabbed my luggage and walked out of the hotel's conference room, dragging the bag to the lobby. Like I had expected, everyone had already gathered up and they were waiting for me. I apologized an we were ready to climb into the cars that would take us to the airport. Some boys of the security, Bill and I always rode with the band, together with Lydia when she was present.

When we walked into the car I could feel the tension in the air. I started to notice nobody was talking to one another, everyone was sitting with their arms crossed, looking everywhere but at the people around them. I glanced at Bill, who was sitting across me. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Let them go, he was trying to say, they'll get over it. I looked back at the four musicians and hoped he was right.

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After the concert everything seemed as usual, the car was buzzing with laughter and talks again. The guys were probably way too high on adrenaline from the show that they had probably forgotten what they had been even fighting for earlier that day. For now at least. We walked into the hotel and soon our good mood was darkened. Our reservation was generally messed up and we were standing in the middle of the lobby like a group of idiots, watching Bill argue with the receptionist and later with the manager. I decided to step out of his eyesight slowly, just to make sure I don't get called over to stand by him as he was barking at the poor girl behind the desk, who seemed to be getting paler everytime Bill opened his mouth.

I noticed Ace, who seemed deep in thought, not paying attention to the world around him. He standing alone to the side, since Peter was with his wife again. I walked to him and signed when I saw his face up close.

"Ace, " I called out, making him return back to reality, "you have greasepaint all over your face."

His expression changed to puzzled and he raised his eyebrows. "No way, I'm pretty sure I took it all --" he started, running his hand over his cheek. He swore when he looked at the white trace on his palm, turning back to me. "Is there more?"

I shook my head. "Good, " he said and I noticed a grin creep its way up his face. Before I could even realize what was about to happen, I felt his palm on my cheek as he smeared the paint across my face. I jumped back in surprise and touched my face, looking at my fingertips. I glared up at him.

"You didn't dare, " I hissed coldly at the guitarist, who just smirked at me, obviously trying so hard to stop himself from laughing out loud. I ran my fingers down my cheek, making sure to gather everything and reached my arm out to smear the remains of the paint back on his face, but he jumped back quickly, leaving my hand hanging in the air.

"Too slow, " he mocked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. I tried to keep the smile away from my face, trying to give myself a threatening look. Soon enough, we started a chase around the room, or more like me trying to get close enough to Ace to return the favor. The other guests of the undoubtedly fancy hotel, probably around the age of my grandparents, were giving us disapproving looks. He didn't seem to bother about it and I didn't even feel the need to feel bad too. The grumpy pensioners were probably see all hell break loose later, when the women flooded the place and the noise complaints from the boys' rooms started. So I continued our game of tag with a little sense of superiority in my heart and a small arrogant smile on my face.

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Paul was leaning against the column in the lobby, his hands crossed across his chest. He was starting to get impatient, he really hoped this worked out, he wasn't looking forward for searching for another hotel at midnight. He was also trying not to glare at the couple who was waking the disapproval of the elder part of the guests. He couldn't really give a name to the feeling in his gut, but he was sure that he preferred it a lot more when Lillian and Ace were standing one lobby away from each other.

He was currently observing the guitarist hold the woman's right hand away from his face, while she was trying to reach his face. Her face seemed concentrated, her eyes were squinted and she was absentmindedly chewing on her lower lip, like she was about to take down an enemy plane instead of trying to daub Ace's face with paint. She lowered like a cat, ready for a strike and made a final, almost desperate jump to try and reach his face. Frehley had already seen the move coming and grabbed her other wrist quickly, leaving her helpless. He said something to her, something the singer couldn't hear from his spot, but he was definately teasing her.

Very funny.

This time Paul couldn't hold back and rolled his brown eyes, looking away from the two. He didn't know what to think. He was afraid to admit to himself that he was always keeping the sketchbook close to him, but afraid to draw in it, keeping it empty like it was some relic. He was afraid that any involuntary smudge, every bad drawing in it would ruin its purity. The book's presence felt both calming and tensing, making him feel even lonelier in the late hours of the night.

If you ever need to talk, she had said. He didn't need her to continue, he knew what she meant. Even though he knew she was serious, he knew he could never bring himself up to do that. Keeping it to himself seemed like a lot better alternative. It ain't like she's bored enough to listen to dramatic shit, he thought, sneaking another look at her, clenching his jaw when he noticed Ace ruffle her hair, making her seal and try to release herself from his grip.

He soon decided to walk away to avoid himself getting more irritated than he already was, only to be met by a pair of mischevious dark eyes and a wide smirk.

"Well, well, what got you so worked up, rockstar?" Jennifer asked in a sing-a-song voice.

Paul glared. He couldn't say he didn't like the girl, but he couldn't bring himself to lie either. It was nice having someone around who had the fan's point of view, someone with whom you could talk about music freely. However, being the gossiper she was, Paul was sure where the girl was going with her next questions.

"I'm tired, " he answered, running his fingers through his hair, "and I don't wanna switch hotels."

"Really? Even with the approving looks we're getting from everyone?"

Paul laughed dryly. At least he wasn't the only one who had noticed. Even though they weren't running around like kids, the long hairs and the leather clothing surely gave away they were all part of one group. And that didn't spare them the glares.

"At least we aren't the main attraction," Jen nodded to the couple that had started to scuffle again. Paul snorted.

"Well," she continued when she didn't get an answer, "what'a happening between you and Lilly?"

He sighed. "Nothing is happening between me and Lillian, " he stated, turning around to look at the woman next to him. Jennifer had her eyebrow raised, looking at him like he was being totally ridiculous. He wanted to stand up and leave her, but if he did, she would never leave him alone. "Look, we're not even friends."

"Then go talk to her," the woman pointed out, looking at Lillian to emphasize her point. Paul glared once again.

"She's busy," he hissed through gritted teeth, making Jen look at him.

"There's nothing between her and Ace."

"Yeah," he laughed bitterly, unable to hold himself back anymore, "and does he know that?"

Jennifer didn't answer this time. "Paul... you can do something about it or you can sit here and throw daggers at those who actually want to be around her. That's all I'm saying." She said, moving to the side, placing her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment before passing him. Paul didn't even have time to open his mouth to answer her, to tell her her assumptions were ridiculous and he had no feelings for her friend. However, Bill had finally managed to end his argument and called them over, a victorious smile on his face. Paul shook his head and went to the desk to check in.

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This is a short one, but more is coming and I want you guys to be prepared