FEBRUARY 18, 1977
NEW YORK CITY

I PULLED MY HAIR AWAY FROM MY face and tied it on a loose ponytail. The strands were tangling in my fingers, but I didn't give a damn if I accidentally tugged on them. I had other things to worry about.

The whole organization has been going great and opposed to Bill's worries, there were no problems with Madison Square Garden. Things were going smoothly for such a big event and needless to say, the boys were all excited as hell. By the end of the night, they would be buzzing with adrenaline and speaking everything that was on their minds without thinking for a second. Which is what I was worried about.

I signed and stretched my shoulders, standing up from my place on the couch to walk around my apartment and clean my head. I thought that getting those backstage passes was a good idea, but I wasn't that sure anymore. I had imagined something a lot different than what was really about to happen.

When I called Heather about the VIP tickets the Demon had given me, she was so excited, and that for a moment I decided that Gene being pissed at me wasn't such a high price. That was, however, until I heard her father was totally against leaving her and her best friend Nancy alone for an hour after the concert. What's more, when I kindly explained to him that I was going to be there the whole time and the people that they were going to meet were all ones that I knew and trusted, he seemed even more reluctant. After days, and I mean days, of both Heather and her mom convincing him, he finally agreed to let her go. Only if he and his wife were outside.

I tried my best to talk him out of the idea, even telling him that this could cost my job (something I was almost convinced was going to happen after I broke the news to Gene), but it didn't really get me anywhere.

I jumped face first on the bed, hiding my face in the covers. "Fuck you, " I whispered into the covers, hoping it would make me feel better. It didn't.

A few moments later, I stood up and buried my head into my palms. I could feel there anger warm my body on the inside, the burning feeling rising up my throat. I couldn't help but wonder what did my aunt and cousin do to deserve this shit.

I reached out and put my feet on the ground slowly, first the left, then the right, looking over my shoulder and at the clock. Great, I have to get ready.

I wasn't looking forward to the concert at all, so I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I took my time drinking it, staring out of the window and onto the street, letting myself look over the buildings and all the way to East River. Just a little less than a year ago I was stuck with my boring life, trying to graduate and work in the bank at the same time. I realized how much I had to to thank my cousin's family for helping me that much after my parents and brother took off. Well, I couldn't help but scoff, at least thank her mom.

Aunt Teressa owned four big coffee shops in Manhattan, a business my grandfather had started a long ago. First it had been just a tiny bakery, perfect for workers who passed by and needed to get something for breakfast or lunch. It was something small, just enough to get by. When my grandfather got retired, my aunt had to take care of it. And like hell she did. A few years later, she had turned it into one of the best cafés in New York and already opened a few other, bigger ones on spots like Fifth Avenue or Wall Street. Being the friendly and sociable person she was, she had made a lot of friends, from builders to lawyers and even some celebrities. I guess that's how she met Mike McGurl, the former your manager of KISS. I suddenly realized that she might have met Gene or Ace or anyone of the band without even knowing who they were. The thought made me smile and shake my head.

My uncle was another thing. He was an unsuccessful author, who failed to make any of his books at least appealing to people. To be completely honest, I never read any of his works, and they were sadly almost always a subject of a conversation when it came to talking with him. No matter that my aunt was the one who was making the money in their family, my uncle didn't seem that annoyed with it, unlike most men would. He wanted a peaceful life and rarely got into fights with his rebellious daughter, even when she was doing her best to get on his nerves. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I was so surprised at his reaction when he was told his daughter was about to meet the 'pagan beasties of teenage rock 'n' roll'. I remember we all stared at him in confusion when he said the words, making him look back shyly, mumbling something about some article he had read.

I was pulled back to reality when I looked back at my clothes for tonight, neatly folded on one of the chairs. I really wanted to let my frustration out, to just call somebody and rant about how stupid parents were and how easier everything would have been if things just worked out when you wanted them to. I headed towards the phone, picking up the receiver and freezing in my place.

Who could I talk to?

I figured it would be better if I called the guys to tell them about the situation, something I had planned to do in person. Perhaps if I tell Gene now, his anger will pass and he won't be mad at me later?

I immediately shot that down. There was no way I called the scary bassist. I needed to calm down, not to start a fight. Okay, next. Bill was in the venue, Ace said he was visiting his parents. Paul, I thought, Paul would listen to me. We had gotten closer over the past few weeks, especially after his birthday, and I felt like Paul was starting to open up to me. Yet still, the thought of calling him made a strange feeling rise in my chest. A strange and tickling one that I wanted gone as fast as I could.

I suddenly let out a relaxed sigh, dialing the number of the one person I knew I could talk to about everything. I was playing with the string, waiting for Lydia to pick up the phone when someone on the other end of the line finally answered.

"Hello, " I heard the familiar voice, but my heart sank in my chest.

"Hey Peter, " I answered, letting go of the wire in my hands, "is Lydia there?" I asked and the way my voice sounded, way too desperate and sad that I actually felt.

"No, she's out. Is everything okay, you sound kinda upset?"

I sighed. "Yeah, sure."

Peter remained silent for a few moments, probably not buying my story. "Look, " he said after a few moments, "I'll have to leave for the show in half an hour and I'll meet Lydia in a coffee shop a few blocks away. Come wait for her with me and I'll leave you two alone to talk. Okay?"

"Okay, " I agreed, a smile spreading on my face at the gesture. He told me the address, not far from where I lived, and I hang up so I could get ready. I put on a pair of jeans and a navy button up shirt on, one that was a lot more comfortable than impressive, grabbed my bag and went out.

Peter was standing in front if the coffee shop, playing with the belt of his jacket. He smiled when he saw me, opening the door for me and letting me inside.

The cafe was small and warm, compared to the February cold outside. We sat on one of the tables in the corner, Peter making a gracious movement, almost a jump, and landed on his seat. Like a cat, I thought, shaking my head.

After that he ordered himself two long espressos, leaving the waitress in shock. "I'm having a long night, " he explained with a laugh, making the woman raise her shoulders and leave us in private. We talked for a few minutes, the drummer sharing his excitement for the show that night. His dark eyes were shining with excitement and I smiled at his joy. After the waitress returned with Peter's coffees and my hot chocolate, he turned around to look at me with his eyebrow raised. "Seriously, how old are you?"

"Don't you dare insult my baby, " I hissed, wrapping my hands around the mug like I was protecting it from him. Peter laughed and sipped from his cup, fixing his gaze on me.

"Now that you're in a better mood, are you going tell me what's wrong?"

I groaned, starting down at the menu, pretending I was choosing from the few drinks in it, like we weren't already served. Peter was still staring at me, demanding silently to get an answer, certainly laughing internally at my try to dodge the question.

"Look, it's nothing that important. Just my uncle being a douchebag. Nothing to worry about, " I promised, turning to face him.

"What do you mean? Like, what kind of 'being a douchebag'?" He inquired, leaning back against the back of the chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Like coming tonight with his daughter to the meet&greet kind of douchebag, " I finally admitted, leaving Peter with his jaw dropped.

"Is that it?" He asked in the end, waving his hand and now it was my turn to look at him wide-eyed. "There's nothing to worry about."

"But..." I stammered, staring at him, "I thought you're going to be angry. I mean..."

"Well, Gene might be, but so what. He'll get over it in a few days. And after all, we won't be doing anything wrong. We're meeting a teenage fan, that's all."

"You're right, " I said, rubbing my temples, "there's nothing to worry about."

"I told you! Who else knows?"

"No one. I couldn't call Ace. Gene is out of the question and Paul's just gonna tell Gene, " I stated, making the drummer raise his eyebrows and give me such a look, that if I didn't know better I'd say that he was making fun of me.

He leaned over the table, like he was about to share some big secret. "Trust me, when it comes to you, " he insisted, lowering his voice, "Paul ain't telling anyone. Especially when it comes to you."

I was about to ask him what he meant, but his gaze quickly shifted to the door when his wife walked in.

I had spend almost a year as part of KISS' crew and I got to see them every single day. Still, I found myself completely amazed by the way Peter looked at Lydia when she walked into the room. From the way his lips curved in a small, almost shy smile, I had figured out any of the groupies in the world never really stood a chance.

Lydia walked to us, giving his husband a quick kiss and sitting on the free chair. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing much, " he explained, looking down at the watch on his wrist, "I gotta go," he stated, kissing his wife and standing up. A few feet away from us, he turned around and called Lydia. "Hey babe, why don't you share your observations with Lillian too, " he winked as exited the café.

"What's he talking about?"

"Nevermind, " she waved her hand, like she was dismissing the question. "He's just trying to be a smartass."

It took me forty minutes and one more chocolate to explain everything to Lydia, from how my family was to the problem I was facing right now. She listened to me carefully, but just raised her shoulders helplessly after I finished talking. "All I can tell you is to calm down, " she advised and reached out to brush my shoulder soothingly. "It can't really be that bad. And I think that you're a bit too scared of Gene than you have to, " she added with a laugh, "I thought you guys were friends."

"Still, "I defended myself, "an angry Gene Simmons is the last thing I want to see. Ever."

"Alright, as you say, " she giggled. "Do you want to leave, it's 19:30 and the show starts soon."

"Sure, " I agreed as we paid the bill and followed her. It was already dark outside, the lights from the island reflected in East River. God knew what kind of traffic we were going to get stuck into once we reached Manhattan. After all, KISS themselves were having a sold-out show. I took a deep breath and waved for a cap.

✵✵✵

I am an awful, awful person for separating this chapter, but I have 5 tests this week, forgive me