charisma

flirt

"Where've you been? All the girls were asking about you."

Paul Stanley. The Starchild himself. He was still in makeup and costume- a tight black jumpsuit with a plunging neck and thigh high silver platforms. "Walked around for a bit. Met her." Gene nodded in my direction. Paul's eyes widened. "And you told her who you were without the makeup?" He sounded angry, almost panicked. I couldn't blame him. KISS deserved to live lives separate from the stage. That's the whole reason they wore makeup. Gene didn't seem bothered, though. "Meh. She's more sassy then gossipy," he shrugged. Paul raised an suspicious eyebrow, and looked from me to Gene. "I bet you love that," he muttered. "Still," he went on," We can't take those risks...""Mr. Stanley," I cut in. "I won't tell anyone. You guys deserve to keep your private lives private. I won't ruin that. I'll sign a waiver, or any of that confidentiality shit, whatever you guys need." I was already indebted to Gene... this was the least I could do for the band.

Looking much more comfortable now, the Starchild returned my grin taking my hand. "That won't be necessary, dear. Now that that's out of the way, you can call me Paul. I'm just delighted to meet you, now that I know you won't give us away." He raised my hand to his lips, but Gene gave him a look and he dropped it with a sly grin. A friendly voice came from the other side of the room. "Gene with a girl? What a shocker," teased Ace Frehley, the Spaceman, glittering in his blue shoulder pad and silver cape. He laughed at his joke, a high pitched, witch-like cackle. "Has he even asked you your name, little lady?" questioned the Catman, Peter Criss, who had materialized next to me. Like Gene, he'd washed off his makeup, but still towered over me in seven inch platforms. "Course I have," said Gene with a scowl.

"This is (_____). Got her out of a jam with a couple of drunks in the lobby." "Is that where you disappeared to?" Paul asked. "I just went out for some fresh air. You know I don't like breathing in that smoke machine pyro-shit. I'm driving her home." Peter smirked, raising one eyebrow. "Drive her home, huh? Is that all?" "Yes," Gene growled, glaring daggers at the Catman. He turned to leave, wrapping his arm around me. As I was half walked, half pushed out of the dressing room, I heard Ace yell, "BYE CURLY!! HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, MISS (_____)!!" Gene sighed, exasperated, as I tried not to laugh.

"I love Ace, but he's a dick, he really is," Gene said we walked back through the halls. "I'm guessing you never had any siblings, then?" He looked at me, questioningly. "No... why?" "Welcome to the sweet, sweet experience of having brothers. You're just lucky you don't have any girls in the band. Boys'll just be dicks. Sisters'll steal all your stuff." He slowed down, thoughtful for a second, before he kept walking, saying,"C'mon, this way." 

Gene led me back out the staff door to a beat up, black Chevy. "You're in the city?" He asked, jumping in. The venue was right outside the city I lived in. Most of the people at the concert had come from the city and taken the highway over. "Yeah... Don't take the expressway, though. Everyone'll be coming from here, it'll be so backed up." He started the car and we drove off. I gazed out the window at the cars moving around us. They always looked so pretty at night- taillights dancing and flashing like a lights show on the dark express way.

"So... how did you piss off those bastards anyway?"

"Wasn't paying attention and knocked into them."

"And your mouth had nothing to do with it?"

"Umm, why would you think that my mouth had anything to do with anything?"

"You can't even say that with a straight face."

We spent the drive talking and laughing about music, stories, family, everything. For such an intimidating stage personality, Gene was surprisingly easy to talk to. He seemed genuinely interested to know about me. He asked a lot of questions, It seemed he had really warmed up to me. After a while, he was telling me about his own life and the band he was in before KISS, Wicked Lester. When we finally rolled onto my block, I was tired as hell, but a little disappointed. Again, it wasn't every day a rock star drove me home. "This one's mine." I gestured at my apartment building as the car came to a stop. "Thank you. For this. And... everything. Good- Good night." I started to get out of the car but Gene put a hand on my knee, stopping me. "I don't get to see you again after this, huh?" Flirt, I thought to myself. But I was enjoying it. "I don't know, how long are you here?" "Week or two." I smiled. He moved his hand off my leg, returning my smile.

"I mean... I'd tell you to come to the diner, but-"

"God-awful food, right."

"Yeah, I'm looking out for you. I usually get off at 4. Stop by tomorrow. Since you're so desperate to see me."

He gave me a look, annoyed, but playful. I moved to get out of the car, but then he grabbed my hand.

"Let me guess, you'll see me in my dreams?" I couldn't resist quoting his solo album. "You can't get me out of your mind," He replied, smirking as he sang the next line. God, I thought. That smirk must be etched into his face at this point. Not that it didn't look good on him.

"Cause I'm radioactive or some shit?"

"Yeah, you're such a lady."

"Good night, Gene Simmons," I laughed. I don't know why I used his full name. Liked how it sounded, I guess. Gene Simmons. God. I was amazed at this whole situation. 

"Good night, (------), um—"

"(————)."

"(———) (————)."