"What do you want?"
Carol's eyes were big and scared. Not defiant at all. Her back was up against the jars of peanut butter on the grocery shelf. Gene looked at her, that pockmarked, freckled face, and tried to decide what Paul had seen there, those times they'd slept together. Then he realized, dumbly, that Paul hadn't even really remembered. Carol had only become important when she'd hurt him.
"I think you're pretty well aware."
"I don't want to talk to—"
"You're going to talk to me." At the edge of his vision, he caught a glimpse of a mother pushing a cart, taking her little girl by the hand and tugging her away. She probably thought they were about to cause a scene. He swallowed, stepping forward and grasping Carol's shoulder, abandoning the cart entirely. She didn't struggle or argue, only put down her shopping basket. "Come on, we won't do it here."
He thought, briefly, about taking her to his car to discuss it, just for privacy. He realized after a moment that would probably only terrify her further, so he settled for heading to an empty bench in front of the store. She sat down beside him on the bench, but her eyes kept darting towards the parking lot as if she were about to bolt.
"Do you do this a lot?"
That was the first thing she'd said in awhile. The snippy bitterness, the way it barely masked her fear, was strangely reminiscent. Of who, he wasn't quite sure.
"Pick girls up in grocery stores? No. Usually they just follow me wherever I go. It's a little like the Pied Piper."
She stiffened, hands clasped in her lap, but didn't respond.
"I'm not going to hurt you. But you need to take that curse off him." He shifted, digging in the pocket of his borrowed sweatpants as he spoke, pulling out his wallet, and then digging further, for his checkbook. "I'll... listen, I'll..."
He trailed. He hadn't thought this through nearly as well as he'd hoped. The plan, as much as there'd been a plan, had been to try and get an address off of the roommates, and go from there. He hadn't anticipated being confronted with her so quickly. The money issue—that was another thing. Spending on Paul directly hadn't been something that he'd minded a bit, for all the notations in his checkbook and all the credit card charges over the past several days. But on this girl, on Carol, he wasn't sure what amount to offer. Too little and she'd laugh in his face. Too much and—but Paul was worth it. If he could just guarantee that she wouldn't take the money and run—
Carol flinched. Her teeth sunk into her lip, and she shook her head.
"I don't want it."
"That's bullshit. You got thrown out of your old place. And if this is where you buy groceries, wherever you're living now isn't any better."
"How did you—"
"I talked to your old roommate." Something occurred to him suddenly. "She said you were expecting money when they kicked you out, too. Enough to pay the rent for three months. Where did you think that much money was coming from? Your mom? Or Paul?"
Her breath hitched sharply. Her face had gone from ashen to waxy, the freckles standing out far too sharply against her skin.
"No! I didn't think it would work! I told him that!" He hadn't moved towards her at all, but she was scooting up to the very edge of the bench. "I don't want your money. I already told him how to get rid of it! He doesn't need to be siccing you on me!"
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little t&a
RomanceKISS sexswap fanfic in which Paul is cursed by a groupie. For the sake of Paul's comfort levels, Gene's libido, and the upcoming Love Gun tour, this situation must be resolved. Paul Stanley/Gene Simmons. Complete. [Originally posted on AO3 under my...