June 3rd, 1977

I WAS LYING IN MY BED, STARING AT the white ceiling, a small smile creeping it's way to my face. It was well past 10 pm and I should have fallen asleep by now, considering I was flying to Canada early tomorrow. However, Love Gun was blasting in the other room and even the walls couldn't silence the songs. My smile grew wider.

A woman had moved in next door while I was on tour. Late thirties to early forties, single and obviously suffering from what my mother liked to, 'the syndrome of the quiet bedroom'. She complained about how loud I was, how she heard me always move things around or meet with noisy friends. And when she finally understood what I was doing for a living, she seemed to be in heaven as she accused me of bringing rock stars over for the night. She even called the police once, who ended up pretty confused when they say me sitting on the couch and watching TV. The officer scratched the back of his neck and made me lower the volume, but I suspected that he just had to do something about the complaint.

I had explained it to my parents when I had visited their home for a weekend. Mom laughed about if for good few minutes and my dad had suggested in his thick accent that I could shove a dog shit in her post box. I however, had a much better idea.

The newest KISS album was blasting in my living room and was probably going to keep playing for at least another hour or two. If she keeps saying that I'm loud, I'll just give her a reason. I had wanted to ask the guys over to have a jam session here, but I decided against it in the last minute. Especially after what I had found out.

A couple of weeks back, Bill had asked me to come to his office to speak to me privately. I had no idea what that meant, and I had hoped it was just some stuff we had to discuss for the tour. However, I couldn't stop the feeling in my gut that something wrong had happened.

I remember walking inside the room and sitting at the large conference table, crossing my legs nervously. The look on Bill's face didn't promise anything good and I pressed my sweaty palms together.

"I need your help," he said, tapping his fingers against the wooden desk, like he was trying to find the right words. "I know that you have noticed that the relations in the band are a little... tense."

I swallowed thickly and nodded my head.

"Well, during the recording of this album, things have gone to shit. Peter and Ace have fallen into disgrace with Paul and Gene and it's pretty much the other way round."

"Why?"

Bill sighed. "You know how different they are. Ace was late a lot... most of the time, and Peter has his own problems with teamwork. And Gene and Paul just can't tolerate that. Not that they don't have their flaws either, " he shook his head. "Gene can be so self-absorbed that you can't even breathe his air and Paul doesn't really know when he crosses the line. Neither do the rest. Making them do this tour is a time bomb in the first place."

The news hit me like a ton of bricks. Bill thought that they were going to break up. He was desperate enough to ask for my help. And he was the professional one here. If he couldn't do it... I placed my hands underneath my thighs to calm myself down and glanced back at him.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I am their manager. You are something more than that. I need you to be the peacekeeper. You and Ace are close from the start and it seemes that you've gotten under Paul and Gene's skin as well. I need you to balance things, to make sure they don't kill one another during the tour."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. They can't do that, I thought, they can't just leave everything they did together and throw it into the fire just because some fight. Right?

But Bill was way too serious for this to be just some fight. I took a shaky breath and looked back at the manager.

"You can count on me."

I turned around and looked out if the window. The lights in Manhattan were shining just as bright as if it were any other night, completely oblivious to what was going on inside my head.

Why did everything have to go to hell, I wondered. I had finally found an amazing job, interesting and well-paid that involved so much travelling and new places to explore. And it turnes out that I can't come home without feeling like I have to hide in my apartment immediately to avoid the people who seemed to have some problem with me. What have I ever done to you, I asked myself, grabbing the sheets and pulling them up to my chin, like I could hide myself from the world.

I ended up in an argument with the only family that I had in the closest 100 miles, I continued my silent monologue. And what for, because I wanted to do them a favor. I knew that uncle Alan had his own opinion on Kiss, but couldn't he shut his mouth just this time. Couldn't he do it for his daughter, for me. I almost fought with Gene because of you!

And to be honest, travelling every few months meant I barely had time for my friends and also — no boyfriends. I rolled to the side and tried to remember the last time I have had sex. I did the maths and it didn't make me feel much better. I have my needs too for God's sake! The thought made me giggle to myself in the dark. I sounded like some kind of unsatisfied old maid who was complaining to her other unmarried friends. Which is what I was, to be honest, only thirty to forty years younger.

I thought about my neighbor for a moment, and in a moment of weakness I threw the covers off me and walked to the living room to stop the record. I snorted. I can't even take revenge on people.

I didn't bother to turn the lights on as I took the vinyl and placed it back in its place. I looked down at the cover. Well, if nothing else, I've made some friends along the way. Friends who seemed that were going to claw each other's eyes out.

I had met everyone during the break, unlike the last time. I had seen Peter a few times when I visited Lydia and I had went for coffee with Gene and Paul. It must have been after the big fight, because the pair seemed as thick as thieves. The thought that they might have bonded even more over their alliance against Ace and Peter made me sick in the stomach. Not that the other two hadn't turned pissing them off by acting like dicks into an art form. Still, Paul was one of the people I knew I could trust with my thoughts and Ace was one of my closest friends. I didn't even want to imagine them arguing.

Speaking about Ace, he had invited me to a few parties over the past two months. I was flattered that he had thought about having me over, but I couldn't say I had a lot of fun. Ace's parties were a mess of alcohol and drugs and the fact that he was the only one I knew there wasn't making it better. I knew I was being a horrible friend for it, but at some point I had just started telling him I was busy so I didn't need to go.

I slipped back in bed, the warmth from my own body on the sheets calming me down. I buried my nose into the pillow and inhaled the scent of softener. I stared back through the window. A few hours. I was meeting them again in a few hours. I can do that, I will do what I must, but I won't let my friends do something that they'll be sorry for. The thought soothed me and lured me to sleep.

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A short chapter to introduce another part of the story. I hope you guys get to enjoy what I have in mind for you next.💕💕