charisma

morning

It was about 2:30 A.M. when I got inside. I flopped down on my bed, still in my clothes. I got exactly three hours of sleep before having to get up at 5:30 for work. I tried not to think of Gene as I stumbled out of bed and into my uniform. Would he actually come back to see me? Probably not, I thought. He's probably told that to hundreds of women. Shame, he was starting to grow on me. "Grow" was a bit of an understatement. I couldn't pretend I wasn't imagining him last night snoring (he would definitely snore) beside me. Before, of course, I'd gone out like a light. Vague memories of the night before swam across my mind. I lumbered, sleepily out the door, trying to keep my eyes open. 

"He does snore. Violently."

"Ha...This is some really interesting stuff... How'd you guys reconnect?"

"Oh, Lord..."

"Sorry. Insensitive question?"

"No, it's just so dumb. I told him not to come to my work, but that little six foot shit..."

Exhausted, I swiped some coffee from the kitchen at Sunspot. "(_____)! Are you alright? You look like hell," my best friend Liddy giggled as she arrived and started to set the tables. "Shut up... I didn't get much sleep," I mumbled. "You're a hot mess!" she laughed. "C'mon I'll fix you up in the bathroom. Hey, tell me all about the concert! I bet that's why you're so tired!" she said as she dragged me off. In the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it. Liddy fixed the collar of my uniform dress and insisted on doing my makeup as I told her about my night. I recounted Shaved Head and Aerosmith, and the handsome mysterious stranger who'd rescued me. 

"That is wild! And he even drove you home... Did you get his name? Or his number? Does he have any handsome friends?"

Oh, he definitely had some friends you'd be very interested in, I thought. I'd left out the part about the stranger being Gene Simmons. And the part about meeting the band. I wasn't about to break my promise to Paul, or my moral compass.

"Yeah..."

"Well what is it? His name, I mean."

"Mmm, that's not important."

"What do you mean it's not important? This could be my best friend's future husband! True love, for all I know. The way you met was romantic enough. I have to know his name."

"Future husband? Live in the real world, Liddy."

Now she had me thinking. Imagine Gene Simmons was your husband. Damn. Actually, maybe not. He'd be on tour all the time, I thought, wistfully. Still, I smiled, guiltily, if I thought he was flirty yesterday, he'd be such a romantic... Oooh... I shook the thought. Not happening. Not possible. "It was someone important, wasn't it?" "What?" Liddy was smiling, mischievously.

"You don't want to tell me because it was someone who's trying to keep a low profile. You get all kinds of people at KISS concerts- Oh my God. I bet it was a member of the band."