Disclaimer: KISS, Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons are real persons, and this story is not meant to harm or demean them in any manner. It is a work of fiction. Trynia Merin and other characters are property of the author. Rated R for sexual content and language, so no readers under 18 please.

It was the next morning of a phenomenal evening, and she lifted her head from the pillow slowly. Still she was weary from the events of the past 24 hours, all of which had forever changed the course of her life. Could she stay at school with the stigma of Dr. Davis, to complete her degree? Did it even matter anymore, what course her life was to take in the direction and pursuit of chemistry? At that moment, Trynia wasn't certain.

How was it she could succeed in selling paintings and warming up to the parents of her love, but fail to impress a chemistry professor? Would her parents approve of the choices she had made. She knew the long put off introduction to her parents was long overdue. Paul had to meet them, and he had to do it soon.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Paul cooed as he rolled over to kiss her ear.

"Good morning yourself," she entoned back, returning his kiss. "Don't mind the morning breath..."

"I don't, if you don't..." he laughed. "Uh oh, I know that look. Thinking again?"

"Just about things... do I REALLY want to continue research, or do I want to leave it?" she muttered. "I mean... you have all these other performances that you want so you can continue Phantom right, and..."

"Yes baby, but if you think it will be easier..." he asked, scarcely hoping that she would consider leaving school for his sake. "Didn't you say something about just doing the research... and bagging the teaching fellowship..."

"Well I'm going to have a reputation there..."

"You don't know that for sure. Sure you told him off, but did you ask your advisor what happened? I mean he has a right to know if you're going to stay or go. You should decide, and let him know what's what."

"Paul..."

"I know baby, that you probably never might wanna set foot there again, but you can at least clean out your desk, or ask that they send their things here. In addition, talk to your advisor and tell him what you want to decide. And WHATEVER it is, I'll support you, okay, baby?"

"Thank you love," she whispered, kissing him again.

"Terrific. Now, coffee?"

"Good," she nodded, slipping out of bed. Taking his hand, they hurried downstairs.

"Hey Tryn, would you like to invite your parents to see me in Phantom tomorrow night?" Paul asked. "And then we can get to know each other?"

"I had suggested that actually," she smiled. "But I was trying to build up the nerve to tell you..."

"You stinker..." Paul laughed. "Well I'll make sure the special box is reserved for them tomorrow night then?"

"Thanks!"

Tuesday night came quickly, and Trynia led her parents to the special box used often by the Eisens when they would see their son performing his new role. Resplendent in a black suit and tie, her father stood back while she sat down, followed by her mother. Mrs. Merin smoothed out her emerald green evening suit, in soft velour with a skirt that came to just below her knees. A gold dragonfly pin graced the left lapel, with small rubies for the eyes, and a long gold chain hung around her neck. Her short light brown hair she wore loose and feathered about her shapely and plump face, hazel eyes twinkling as she peered down at the patrons assembling below.

"I must say this is exciting. I haven't seen a good Broadway show since Cats," she whispered to Trynia's father, Mr. Merin, who finally sat down once both women were seated.

"Now, let's see how this man in your life does this role, Treece Noelle..."

"Dad," she groaned at the use of her proper name.

"Tryn dear, we have been anxious to meet Mr. Stanley face to face before, but we wished you would have arranged it sooner..."

"Mom please, he's been a perfect gentleman to me..."

"So Michael says," Mr. Merin quipped. "But then he is a FAN..."

"Dear, give it a chance..." Mrs. Merin nudged her husband as the lights dimmed. They sat through the intro, Mrs. Merin listening intently with her husband, who sat back in his chair, legs crossed with his arms resting on the padded armrests. His distinctive Italian profile was silhouetted in the scant light from the orchestra pit, silvering black hair slicked back and cut to a short length. He had finished another day at the GP office where he worked as a family general practitioner. Even on a doctor's pay, his five children still knew the value of hard work. Especially helping to run the family business where his wife, brothers and children all shared working after school.

Nerves arose in Trynia's stomach at the prospect of them finally meeting Paul. They had spoken to him on the telephone, and both well knew he was Paul Stanley of KISS. She recalled her father's reaction when she had first telephoned them that fateful summer to tell him where she was.

"Not bad at all," Mr. Merin leaned over and nudged Trynia.

"What?" she asked, mind snapping back to the present.

"That male friend of yours, he's quite good, actually," her father nodded slowly.

"I'm glad you think so," she nodded.

"He's versatile, I'll say that," Mr. Merin agreed. "Interesting..."

"Oh come on dear you are ENJOYING this," Mrs. Merin nudged him. "Don't let his looks fool you, Tryn dear. He's eating it up..."

"Dad, why won't you admit you like how he performs the role?" Trynia asked.

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions. I make no promises till I actually meet him face to face," Mr. Merin said.

"Dad..."

"Honey, you're my little girl. My daughter. You know I don't want you making mistakes you'd regret. I am not crazy about this decision to transfer schools by the way. Los Angeles?"

"Dad... just give Paul a chance..."

"WE owe her at least that, Ralph," her mother said, as they rose after the final curtain.

"Kathleen you are right, but I am only thinking of Tryn's best interests..."

"I know. And I'm glad you came. Now take us to meet your gentleman friend," Kathleen Merin said, taking her daughter's arm, and her husband's hand. Reluctantly Mr. Merin offered his arm to his wife and daughter and led both out to the lobby.

It was a while before Paul emerged, in black suit jacket, crisp white shirt, and charcoal gray pants. He had suspenders on, and his shoes were polished neatly, his hair slicked back with a simple earring in his pierced ear.

"There he is," Trynia said, nudging her mom and dad into the direction of Paul.

"He dresses appropriately at least," Mr. Merin muttered.

"Hush dear," Mrs. Merin nudged him. "Behave, or you're WALKING home."

"Kathy," Mr. Merin started, but shut up when Paul approached Trynia with a huge smile on his face.

"Hello ba... Tryn dear. These your parents?" he asked, leaning over to kiss Trynia on the cheek and turning to her parents.

"Mr. Stanley, I'm Mrs. Merin," her mother said, holding out her hand to him. Paul took her hand in his and raised it to his lips to kiss it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet our daughter's gentleman friend..."

"Pleasure is all mine to meet the mother of my fine lady, and see she is equally lovely," Paul smiled. "And it is also a very great honor to meet you, MR. Merin..."

"Dr. Merin," he corrected, extending his hand. "Good evening, Mr. Stanley..."

The handshake between the two men was reserved, and firm. Paul towered over the other man by a head, Mr. Merin's head at the height of Paul's eyes. Dark eyes fixed into dark eyes and the two men stood apart for a moment sizing each other up mentally.

"How about we go somewhere and get a drink?" Paul suggested. "I would love to get to know you both better..."

"All right," Mr. Merin nodded. "You name the place, and we'll meet you there..."

"You're welcome to ride with us Dad," Trynia suggested.

"No dear, we don't want to impose," Mrs. Merin suggested.

"We'll follow you," Mr. Merin suggested. "Any ideas? If not I know a good club on 57th street... back from my medical school days... or there's that place Kathleen and I always have gone for a nightcap after seeing a Broadway show in the past..."

"Let's do the latter one, dear," Mrs. Merin hastily said, taking her husband's arm.

Trynia sighed as she realized her father was rubbing his degree in Paul's face. However Paul grinned and said, "all right, that sounds good. Let's go then!"

Paul limped a bit as Trynia walked with her arm around his hips into the plush club. Scarlet and blacks merged into a subdued scene, where there was a bar to one side, and a dining area to the other. Patrons from the show mingled with other well-dressed individuals in the Greenwich Village scene. Classical jazz chimed from a live piano player by the bar, a huge glass fishbowl to his elbow filled partly with dollar bills and coins.

"Hasn't changed much at all," Mr. Merin laughed breezily, waving a bit of the cigar smoke that had drifted over from the cigar smoking area to one side of the bar.

"Except the pianist?" Mrs. Merin chuckled.

"I'll get us a table," Paul offered.

"And I'll get the coats," Mr. Merin nodded, as Paul flagged down the Matre D, and asked for a private table.

Soon they were seated in a booth, Trynia on one side of Paul, with MR. Merin to his other, and Mrs. Merin next to him, in the round seat. It made it a bit awkward for Trynia to feel as if she wanted to get too close and personal to Paul with her Father right there. Of course, he had done that deliberately, as he had done to her sister's fiancées and boyfriends past, to 'interrogate' them in his own manner. He saw it as a bit of a game, to probe the men in his two daughter's lives, as her mother also saw fit to judge her sons in the same, but more merciful manner. It seemed unfair in some ways, and sweet in others to see her father so protective. However, he did seem old fashion at times.

"My mom and your father would get along well," Paul whispered to Trynia, squeezing her hand as he took the menus and passed them around.

"Now, what would be a good table wine?" Paul muttered, glancing down the list of wines.

"Italian, Californian, or German?" Mr. Merin asked. "What are we having..."

"Beef or chicken... red would go well with beef... a Merlot or a Chardonnay..."

"Chianti," Mr. Merin nodded. "But I usually have the salmon after a show. White Zinfandel is a less expensive alternative..."

"Well there are some very nice Napa Valley ones we could try," Paul muttered. "Some excellent local wineries in California. If you'd like me to recommend one..."

"Be my guest," Mr. Merin nodded, when the waiter came with his black notebook. Trynia sighed slightly with relief as Mrs. Merin began to ask Paul about his interest in Broadway, while Mr. Merin listened. Of the two, Mrs. Merin was by far the more gregarious.

"So you're a doctor then?" Paul asked Mr. Merin. "Are you a specialist, or a general practitioner?"

"Family medicine. Graduated New York school of medicine, interned at Philadelphia Hospital. Earned most of my tuition money during the summers of my college and high school years..."

"In your family restaurant, right?" Paul asked.

"That's right... Tryni's been telling you the deal right?"

"Yes dad, he knows the drill," Trynia reminded him, sparing Paul the inevitable Merin family business stories.

"My parents owned a furniture store," Paul said.

"Interesting..." Mr. Merin noted.

"I needed a part time job in college, and Mr. Merin and I were in biology class together," Mrs. Merin interrupted. "So he told me all about that they needed a new waitress, and well... before long we were using every excuse to work the same shifts on weekends and evenings..."

"And he became your Biology tutor?" Paul laughed.

"That's right," she smiled, a pleasant smile lining her freckled countenance. Paul noted how she had the same smile as her daughter.

"And she got the highest grade in class that semester!" Mr. Merin beamed.

"Let me guess, linguini, biology and you?" Paul joked. Both Mr. and Mrs. Merin clasped hands and exchanged a dreamy glance and burst into laughter. Tension eased somewhat, and Trynia released the breath she had not realized she had been holding for so long.

"Our Mike ran around the house at age 8 singing Plaster caster," Mrs. Merin joked to Paul, after the main courses were long since vanished on their plates. Mr. Merin was halfway through a bottle of Merlot that he was sharing with Paul, and they were exchanging many laughs and jokes at this point.

"We had no INTENTION of telling him what it meant though," Mr. Merin laughed. "I figured he was a big enough boy to know by then, given the fact I just HAPPENED to leave my biology textbooks within reach..."

"So your sons knew the facts of life at a good early age?" Paul teased.

"Hey, I'm a Doctor," Mr. Merin laughed. "It would be a crime not to let them know. But for my little girls, my lovely wife gave them the talk..."

"Naturally," Trynia sighed.

"Well I didn't have an easy time with Aaron," Paul flushed. "I should have asked Tryn here to borrow her daddy's books..."

"Very funny," Trynia groaned. Paul shifted a bit, and whispered into her ear.

"Do you have any Tylenol in your purse Hon?"

"Uh I'm sorry... I don't... hey Mom, Dad, do you have any Tylenol?"

"I have some extra strength," Mr. Merin muttered, fishing it out of his pocket. "But you shouldn't take that with wine. It causes liver damage. But Kathleen has some ibuprofen."

"Thanks, Mr. Merin," Paul smiled, taking the bottle from Mrs. Merin and tipping some caplets into his hand. He washed them down with the water to his elbow.

"I couldn't help but notice you were limping a bit," Mr. Merin said. "Hip problems..."

"Uh, just a little," Paul said sheepishly. "Sometimes the cold aggravates it. It's nothing..."

"Paul, you probably should tell him a bit more, he might have a suggestion or two," Trynia suggested.

"Its nothing," Paul waved his hand. "I've had it for a while, and I just usually take painkillers if it gets enflamed..."

"Do you use an icepack for inflammation?" he asked. "On a regular basis..."

"Sometimes after performances... but right now..."

"You know you REALLY should get that seen to, because you might need arthoscopic surgery if it's been going on for a while..." Mr. Merin suggested. "I can recommend a specialist in LA"

"Umm.... Mr. Merin, I appreciate the thought. I really do, but it really hasn't been bothering me as much lately."

"Excuse me Mr. Stanley, but I beg to differ." Trynia snapped annoyed at him.

"I'm fully expecting that once the play is through and I'm back in L.A....." Paul assured her.

"You aren't doing yourself ANY favors putting it off," Mr. Merin said slowly. "Or my daughter for that matter."

"With all due respect, Mr. Merin, it's just that I have a lot of people counting on me here. It's not exactly in my contract just to walk away."

"Is it in your contract to break your hip onstage?" Trynia cut in.

Paul sighed. He had to show some restraint since her parents were present, so he quietly interrupted, "Baby, perhaps now isn't the time."

"I know this is embarrassing... and possibly frustrating," Dr. Merin began as tactfully as possible. "But think of all the people counting on you to make the right choices. Would they like it if their star wasn't able to perform his best... because he put off a surgery?"

"Frankly speaking, the timing sucks," Paul answered. "I've got this to see through, then we go back to LA and I have to regroup with the guys... figure out where we are going next. Gene, he's got some possible ideas, some plans in the works. There just isn't the time."

"Make the time," Dr. Merin said firmly. "You might regret putting it off so long.

Paul sighed again, "There.... There just isn't the time."

"I understand where' you're coming from. But now isn't the time for heroics, Mr. Stanley."

"Paul, please, listen to him!" Trynia nudged Paul. "I don't want you having problems later on!"

Turning to her, he whispered, "Tryn, I just have six more weeks here and then...well...I'll have it looked at."

"Phantom will always be there. Your hip won't." Trynia snapped back.

"How can I do it? Tryn, you know my schedule."

"How can you NOT do it?" she demanded.

He glared at her, eyes darkening, "Hon, I said we'll talk about this later."

"Fine then." Trynia muttered, placing two inches between her and Paul as she fell silent. Mr. and Mrs. Merin exchanged a look, and her mother finally grasped her handbag and motioned to rise from the booth.

"Trynia, I need to use the powder room. Could you please join me?" she said softly.

"Mom..."

"Go with your mother, Please," Mr. Merin urged, rising so Trynia could get out of the booth. Once the two women walked off into the club, Dr. Merin sat down once more.

Paul turned his head to look at Trynia's father, and they shared an awkward moment of silence. Finally Paul broke it by apologizing, "Mr. Merin, I don't mean to be rude. I hope that I haven't upset things here tonight. I really appreciate you and your wife coming down here to see my show, and I know your daughter appreciates it as well."

"I understand, Mr. Stanley," Mr. Merin shook his head with a rueful smile. "Believe me. She's strong willed and stubborn like her mother."

Paul chuckled, "On that, you can bet."

"Well, look. I haven't met you, but she's told me a lot about you," Mr. Merin said, pouring himself another glass. He lifted the bottle toward Paul, who nodded as Mr. Merin topped his wine off.

"We've...uhhh.... Had this conversation a time or two. Tryn and I."

Paul said, taking a careful sip.

"I'm a little concerned about your intentions with my daughter... but you seem a good man."

Startled a bit, Paul snapped his head up, asking, "What are you worried about exactly?"

"I mean you are considerably older. That's my main concern."

"Sir, I'm not the same person as you remember from the 70's. I'm not the same as the man onstage. I'm not a Marvel comic come to life."

"I know. I've seen that tonight," Mr. Merin waved a hand dismissively.

"You're grown up, mature. That's not what I'm talking about here."

Paul cleared his throat, "Yes that's true. Your daughter, she.... She's much maturer than most women are her age. You have to understand. I don't have a lot of chemists that used to flock my way."

"I understand as well," Mr. Merin said, placing his wineglass to one side and folding his arms to look Paul right in the eyes. "She's always been attracted to older men. Now I'll admit that I'm five years older then my wife. In addition, being Italian it's not uncommon for age differences in marriages to occur... In fact, you know what's funny?"

"No, but I'd love to," Paul said levelly.

"Well get this, 100 years ago, a man in your position and wealth would be a perfect match for a daughter. It's just nowadays... well... funny how things change."

"Yes, it is. Mr. Merin, I have a lot to offer your daughter and she has a lot to offer me. She's been a real stabilizing influence in my life, and I like to think that I've helped her through a stumbling block or two." Paul said as confidently as he could muster. "And....well.... There will be no money worries."

"I know. And that's to your credit, Mr. Stanley," Mr. Merin nodded, and noticed that Paul was glancing at him to see if he had taken that last comment well. "And it isn't a question of religion per se... that's just another factor in the mix here..."

"Oh, I see...." Paul muttered.

"I want my daughter to be happy, and well provided for..."

"Hmmm, well, for Tryn and I, it hasn't really been a problem, unless of course, you are concerned about children," Paul said slowly. "I can assure you that she will be. Trynia will have everything in first class fashion."

He stopped for a moment when he noticed Mr. Merin raising a hand for silence, "That's also a plus here. Nevertheless, I guess every father goes through this with his little girls. She is approaching thirty, and you're the best man to show up her life to this point. I just want to make sure you know where I'm coming from as her father."

"Honestly, we've discussed children -- that we both want them, but we haven't talked much about the timing of the whole thing. I WISH I could tell you I can wait 10 years for that, but frankly speaking, I've just turned 50."

"Well, I assume you're intending to MARRY her, right?" Mr. Merin stared right at him.

"Oh, absolutely!"

"Good." Mr. Merin nodded, sipping the rest of his wine. "I like that. But I am a father, and she is my little girl. I'm protective..."

"I'm very much a relationship-oriented man. I guess you can call me the Anti-Gene. A little Kiss humor."

"Aha," Mr. Merin chuckled. "I bet Gene would really love that crack. I have nothing against KISS. Or anything like that..."

"I know you are. I have a son too, and I'll be the same way when my children grow up," Paul said, laughing a bit weakly himself.

"Yeah. Aaron, right?" Mr. Merin asked.

Paul froze with horror when he realized he had said CHILDREN. Quickly he tried to correct himself by babbling, "Oh, yes.... Aaron and then my children with Trynia"

"Doubtless you have sewn some wild oats in your time..." Mr. Merin commented critically. "That's natural for men in your business... but you've grown up, I trust?"

"Yes, I like to think that I have, and part of that is Trynia's influence."

"Hell, I'd be lying if I was to say I didn't do the same thing when I was younger and wilder in my college days, before I met my wife," Mr. Merin said with a slow laugh. "Although... I didn't have children as a result, but I had many near misses."

"Perhaps if I had met her back then.... But she'd have been a mere child," Paul joked weakly.

"I would have KILLED you," Mr. Merin said slowly. "But she's an adult. I can't lock her in her room for the rest of her life."

Paul laughed; hoping the subject would divert from children and wild oats soon, for there was no sign of the ladies anywhere. Naturally. He was relieved when Mr. Merin next said, "My Trynia, she's a good girl. Not as wild as her older sister was."

"Oh, yes, sir, she is."

"And you seem like a nice guy, beyond all the makeup and rock and roll," Mr. Merin nodded.

"And I assure you that I intend to see that she finishes her degree. Whether or not she chooses to work is up to her, but I don't want to totally give up everything for me," Paul said firmly, swigging more of his wine to punctuate his point.

"The women I hope you've given up," Mr. Merin said firmly. "But that doesn't mean I don't expect a red blooded American man like you to flirt. I am guilty of that myself. But I always look and don't touch... otherwise I know that my wife would kill me..."

With the last statement, Mr. Merin winked at Paul. He chuckled weakly again, not sure what to make of Mr. Merin.

"Off limits, of course," he nodded.

"But seriously Mr. Stanley, I want to know that she's going to be the most IMPORTANT woman in your life. The ONLY woman in your life... in the biblical sense."

"Well.... Yes...that goes without saying." Paul said, bringing his fist lightly down on his thigh. He kept his other hand wrapped around his empty wineglass, sitting up far straighter then he sometimes did.

"Good," Mr. Merin nodded. Paul sighed again, sipping a bit of water in lieu of his emptied wine. For some reason, he had every desire to be as clear headed as possible.

"Mr. Stanley, what about your financial arrangements?" Mr. Merin asked.

"Regarding marriage? Would there be some somewhat a prenuptial or something she would have to consent to signing? I am sorry to be intrusive... but I am curious, as a father."

"They are well in order, Mr. Merin. Trynia has no worries about financial matters."

"True, but have you discussed this with my daughter?" Mr. Merin asked. At this, Paul choked on his water.

"Look, I'm not trying to grill you here." Mr. Merin said, nudging his arm.

"We haven't exactly discussed this yet, to be candid." Paul coughed, wiping his chin with a napkin.

"You should," Mr. Merin said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in the booth seat a bit.

"Yeah...I know we should. It's a tough issue."

"And if you two are considering Marriage, you need to see a priest... For premarital counseling." Mr. Merin said firmly.

Paul sighed with relief, for here was a question he had discussed with Trynia, "Trynia did tell me about that. I don't see any problems with it."

"Good, so you know the score on that point." Mr. Merin nodded. "I don't want to tell you how to run your life, Mr. Stanley. But I want you to know, that my daughter's well being is top priority here."

"Tryn will have to invite you out to our house in LA to see our property. It's really quite nice." Paul tried, hoping to get back on neutral ground.

"That would be nice," Mr. Merin nodded.

"We'd love to have you...." Paul said graciously, but was interrupted again by the sight of MR. Merin's raised hand in the air.

"But there's one more thing bugging me."

"Oh?" Paul asked, steeling his resolve again for another round of the inquisition.

"Well, has there been difficulties with your previous wife and my daughter?"

Tapping a foot a bit, Paul wondered when Trynia and her mother would return. They seemed to have been gone an uncharacteristically long time!

"I mean, it's not my business, but I know a lot about the story... and well..." Mr. Merin continued.

"P-Linda? Why, no. They've met a few times and it's gone pretty well, considering." Paul fumbled, struggling not to stammer.

"Good. Relax, I don't want to stress you out, Mr. Stanley. Dads have to ask these questions."

"Trynia's not thrilled about it, but she's doing the best she can to cope, and she's wonderful with Aaron. A second mother."

"You'll go through it with Aaron soon enough... when he brings his girlfriends home to meet you." Mr. Merin slapped him on the back.

"And Linda....PAMELA...last I heard, she's getting serious with another man, so I don't see a problem."

"Normally the divorce issue would worry me, but in this case, considering what I have heard about the woman, it's best for the kid. I'm catholic, but I'm a realist." Mr. Merin nodded. "And considering you aren't, what you do before Trynia is not an issue here... but what you decide to do with my daughter is."

"There were.... Umm.... A few extenuating circumstances in our relationship, and I can honestly say that I've learned a lot from it."

"Good." Mr. Merin again smiled. Paul exhaled when the questions ceased and he realized Trynia's father no longer had that hard strange stare of distance. It was more a look of understanding. Especially when he said, "Mr. Stanley, relax."

"Trynia has been a real blessing for me, and I hope that she would say the same," Paul said slowly, meeting his gaze again with the other man's dark eyes. So dark, he could tell where Trynia's lovely eyes had originated.

"You seem like a good man, Mr. Stanley. I am hoping that this works out for the best. But I'll be watching you..." Mr. Merin winked, poking a finger in Paul's direction.

He laughed a bit self-consciously, "You'll forgive me, I hope. It's a bit odd being 50 years old and doing the 'meet the parents' thing. I'm sure we'll iron it out in time."

"I'm sure you will," Mr. Merin nodded, reaching for the wine bottle again. "I appreciate your honesty."

"I.... I will take good care of Trynia."

"How about another glass of Chardonnay?"

"Oh, that would be great. Thank you."

"Here," Mr. Merin offered, pouring yet another glass for Paul and himself.

"Appreciate it"

"You're welcome. Forget about it," Mr. Merin nods, and raises his glass, taking a sip.

"Soooo, Mr. Merin, Trynia tells me you and your wife really enjoyed the performance tonight," he said, leaning back and folding his knees to take a small sip of Merlot. "I always make sure that she has the best seats in the house, away from the crowd."

"You do it justice, Mr. Stanley," Mr. Merin smiled. "Even better then Michael Crawford."

"Wow, thank you for the compliment. I'm not sure I'm worthy of it, but I appreciate it just the same."

"You are, Mr. Stanley."

"It's been a real rush to get to do this. Quite a change from what I'm used to."

"Well, isn't this cozy?" Trynia laughed hands on her hips. "I see you haven't killed each other!"

"You see, I was easy on him," Mr. Merin winked up at his daughter, and leaned up to give her a kiss. He rose and let her into the booth, then sat down again. Mrs. Merin whispered something to Mr. Merin, and sat down next to her husband.

"So, two lovely ladies are back from the powder room. Are you ready for some dessert?" Paul smiled, taking Trynia's hand. He gave it a squeeze, especially when he noticed Mr. and Mrs. Merin were holding hands openly, smiling warmly at each other.

"Tryn here, she loves chocolate cake," Paul joked further. "I could have made that choice with my eyes closed."

"German chocolate, or truffle delight?" asked Mrs. Merin.

"Or perhaps... Death by chocolate?" asked Mr. Merin.

Paul chuckled at this, "I see it runs in the family."

"We Must have coffee with it," Mrs. Merin insisted.

"Are you kidding?" Mr. Merin laughed. "WE inhale the stuff. It's part of our balanced diet."

"One of the four food groups," Mrs. Merin chimes in. "Right dear?"

"Tryn.... We don't really eat much in the way of dessert. We maintain a pretty healthy diet, but it's still nice to take a break."

"Yes it is..." Trynia smiled.

Paul chuckled, "I dubbed her the Fast Food Queen when I met her. A hamburger in one hand and her chemistry textbook in another."

"Well she benefits well from your good habits," Mrs. Merin nods.

"Not that my dear isn't lovely... but I always did insist on sending her home with a well cooked meal."

"Moom!" Trynia groaned, putting a hand to her head.

"My daughter looks lovely, and ever more so under your care, Mr. Stanley," Mr. Merin smiled to Paul.

"You've made quite a lady of her," Mrs. Merin nodded.

"Oh, NO, I didn't mean to imply anything there. Trynia has a lovely bod....errr....she looks very nice."

Trynia groaned, flushing as she slowly died of embarrassment before her love and her parents. She wished the table would devour her as fast as she wanted to eat the cake that she hoped the waiter would let them order.

"Understood," Mr. Merin nodded, and leaned over to whisper to Paul, "Best to stop right there, Paul. They always ask you if they look fat... It's best to compliment them on their dresses at that point..."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Paul grinned, laughing hard.

"What are you two talking about?" Trynia asked, wondering WHY her father was leaning across her to talk to Paul?

"Yes," Paul grinned, and pinches Trynia when her parents were not looking, "Trynia is always a lady. Trynia knows how lovely I think she is."

He slipped his arm around her, and she relaxed a bit to lean against him. Practically Mrs. Merin asked, "Well, so, have we decided on desert?"

"It's up to the lovely ladies, I say." Mr. Merin smiled.

"Hmmm, well, I would love death by chocolate," Mrs. Merin said, tapping her finger to her chin.

"And me... the German Chocolate cake," Trynia rubbed her hands together.

"I'll just share what you have, love," Mr. Merin says to his wife with a wink. "Make it ala mode."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, unless my love here will spear me with her fork for getting too close to her piece." Paul teased.

"Well women and chocolate are seldom parted," Mr. Merin winks back.

"Unless they have their man to share it with..."

Paul smiled, "I'll leave the chocolate delight for Tryn, if she doesn't mind. I think I'll just have the apple pie."

"Are you sure Paul?' she asked.

"My.... Umm.... Mother comes here often and she recommends it highly." Paul said slowly.

"Hmm really?' Mrs. Merin asks. "You WERE here before?"

"Yes, she sort of sees herself as a restaurant critic, I think. Dad pays. Mom criticizes." Paul laughed. Mr. Merin raised astonished eyebrows. This was clearly a surprise that he picked a restaurant that his daughter's love interest already knew about.

"That's somewhat... similar to my situation," Mr. Merin joked, and pinched his wife.

"Dear..." Mrs. Merin shot back to her husband. "Remember just who's driving back tonight."

"She can be a handful.... But a loveable one. Sometimes I don't know how my dad does it," Paul laughed. "But they've been married 55 years now, so who am I to tease them?"

"We've been married for 45... so we've done SMETHING right," Mr. Merin smiled, slipping his arm around his wife, and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Yes, that's very impressive. There's a lot to be learned there, I'm sure."

"Thank you," Mrs. Merin smiled to Paul. "There is."

"Mr. Stanley you looked awfully uncomfortable at one point..." Mrs. Merin started to say. Paul winced and sighed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Merin, it's been a pleasure, but I must admit that I do feel under some pressure tonight. I really, really want you to like me...as I love your daughter." He said hastily.

"All right, well it was a pleasure meeting you too," Mr. Merin nodded, guessing his motive. He reached out to shake Paul's hand, and clasped it heartily.

"Likewise. I look forward to seeing you both soon. Hopefully you will accept our invitation to come out to California. We have plenty of room."

"You take care of yourself, and my little girl, Mr. Stanley. And take care of that hip."

"Oh, yes. As soon as possible, I will have my doc check into it."

"We would love that as a change of pace," Mrs. Merin smiled to her husband. She leaned over and offered her hand to Paul. He kissed it softly and she grinned.

"We must be going dear... you take care," she turned to Trynia.

"I would make a truly corny line by saying that I see where your daughter gets her beauty, but for the sake of the parties involved, I will restrain myself," Paul offered as a parting shot.

"Thanks..." Mrs. Merin laughed. "Take care!"

They all exited the booth, and Trynia embraced both her parents. Paul watched them from a discreet distance, as they walked out of the club and waved good bye. Trynia returned to the table, where Paul was standing, scratching his head.

"What is this?" he asked. "Where is the check?"

"Uh, my dad took it while you weren't looking," Trynia blushed. "He insisted on paying for it. By now they've already reconciled it with the mater'd..."

"They didn't have to... I could have paid..." Paul protested.

"Let it go honey," she grinned. "My dad likes you. I think you passed the audition..."

Paul looks at Trynia and exhaled with relief. Reaching out he took her hand and asked, "Well...you have fun, dear?"

"Yes. I think... and you?"

"Whew. I wasn't too sure there for awhile."

"That's Dad," Trynia rolled her eyes, worthy of Terri Mason for a minute. "He's always given my men the third degree."

"Sort of felt like I should have on one orange sneaker and one red sneaker and say ACK every few minutes." Paul joked. "He's just looking out for you, honey. Not many dads dream of the day their baby girls will bring home rock stars."

"Yes... I know." she sighed, and Paul noticed she'd only eaten half her desert.

"What's wrong, love? You're leaving chocolate on your plate?"

"I... well. I'm worried."

"I thought we agreed you were going to put the whole Villa mess behind you," Paul said, rubbing his hand over her back as he led her out.

"No that' snot what I'm worried about..."

"Hmmmmmmm. What is it, then? Was it tonight? I thought it went amazingly well, all things considered, and I DIDN'T even have to take you in the lounge for a romp." he kidded.

"We can talk about it on the ride home," she said.

"Sounds good to me," Paul nodded, worry rising in him as he led her off to retrieve their coats from the coat check.

They both climbed into Paul's black Mercedes, homeward bound when she again raised the issue of his hip. Why was he avoiding the topic so fervently? Again she tactfully attempted to breach the subject by saying, "Paul, I don't want to be a nag... but I am worried about something else, and it has a lot to do with tonight."

"Well I'm certain we can make sure whatever it is ISN'T a problem in the next five minutes," he winked, sliding his hand gently up her leg. Sighing, she took his hand and clasped it hard in her own.

"As much as I would love to jump your bones now love, that's not the issue here..."

"Damn, baby, so serious. Not even my sex jokes are making you laugh."

"Paul, you just blew off your whole deal with your hip. What's up with that? And in front of my dad, who is a doctor, for crying out loud!"

"You're.... You're not having second thoughts about US, are you?" Paul asked.

"AM I out of line... for suggesting you really ought to see a doctor?" Trynia asked, turning her head to look at him directly. Strobically lights from oncoming traffic illuminated her face. "Or not put this off any longer?"

He sighed a bit, and removed his hand from her thigh, saying, "Doll, haven't we been over this before?"

"Yes we have," Trynia nodded. "But I still think it stinks, how you're just making it out to be no big deal, when it COULD be."

"It's just that you KNOW what my schedule is like. For the next six weeks, I've got Phantom staring me in the face. I've got the AMA's coming up here real soon. Gene wants to do more book signings. I'm even tossing around the idea of maybe testing the waters into some new ventures," Paul sighed, shaking his head. "And that's not even CONSIDERING if we take a tour out this summer or fall."

"Well, then hold out till after the AMA..." Trynia suggested. "But after that, you have to do something about it! I can't shut up about this..."

"Look, I'll keep an eye on it," he relented. "If it's still bothering me this summer, well, we'll take a look at it."

"Paul..." she sighed. "I guess it's not my place... to say anything..."

"To be fair, I guess I've been ALL over your business here lately. I suppose it's your turn," he said, echoing her sigh. "It's just that it is very important to stay busy right now.... To stay focused."

"Paul, I know all about this thing with wanting to stay busy..." she attempted to understand.

"The future of the band. Who knows what that is?"

"KISS is your life, I know that, Paul. I AM a lifelong soldier in the KISS Army, remember?"

"I guess maybe I'm afraid that if I stay idle too long, the opportunities will pass me by. Tryn, I'm too damn young to be left sitting home, wondering what happened."

"But it would seem to me, that you could IMPROVE its chance by having the surgery now," she pointed out. "If you go on tour this summer."

For a time, Paul drove along in silence. A light freezing rain had begun to fall, and Trynia noticed the fog accumulating on the windshield.

"You're starting to sound like my doctor," Paul chuckled lightly. "And I hate that guy."

"I know... I'm sorry..." she sighs.

"He.... Umm...Doc called me again today, asking me what my plans are with it. I guess the guys are trying to figure out a game plan."

"Yes..."

"And I can't exactly perform in a wheelchair, now can I?" Paul relented.

"Not unless you were joining the rolling stones on the Simpson's with a STEEL WHEELCHAIRS tour, no," Trynia quipped back. "Why not talk to Gene about it during the AMA thing... And anyway it would be MORE difficult to perform, in more ways then one."

"Huh. Mrs. Stanley, are you implying what I THINK you are implying?"

"Uh huh..."

"Oh, God, " he groaned, "That's a WHOLE other aspect I didn't think of. How damn long am I going to have to be celibate?"

"Yes... that's my point exactly."

"At least NOW, I can still...." Paul began, but corrected himself. "Let's just say, last I checked you appeared quite satisfied."

"I know... I am... I am just worried that sex... will become more painful for you..." she continued, afraid of using the wrong words.

"If you don't have something done now... I don't want to hurt you... am I being stupid?"

"Nah, I think you're being a horny little girl, and I intend to do something about that," Paul winked saucily, to try and divert her attention.

Trynia pulled off her glasses, and for a moment, Paul hoped desperately that she wouldn't cry. He hated it when she did. However, the look on her face he glimpsed sidelong in the car didn't raise his hopes. She rubbed her face, shaking her head and muttered to herself inaudibly. He could not hear what she was whispering over the drone of the car engine.

"You are the most STUBBORN Man on the face of the planet sometimes," she relented. Reaching over he traced his fingers up her thigh and tickled her a bit.

"But you love me still, right?"

"What do you think, smarty?" she joked.

"As my mom used to say, 'I wouldn't hound you if I didn't care.' " Paul nodded.

"The same applies here, buster."

"But that was different. She just wanted me to clean my room." he grinned.

"I want you to get your damn hip fixed," she growled under her breath.

"Guess you regret getting involved with an old man now, eh?" he teases.

"What would you say if I was told that I needed surgery to correct my back... Or fix my hands because I had carpal tunnel? And I put it off because I was working on my dissertation?"

"Hmm. Touché', my dear." Paul muttered, and paused for a moment.

"I would be the epitome of a hypocrite, and tell you to get the damn thing done now or else...."

"Because I love you, and I want to be with you, I've been putting off my masters."

"Yes. You are."

"And my degree will ALWAYS be there. You and I... wont," she nodded. "You said so yourself. And I SWEAR I will help you through this..."

"Look, Hon...." he sighed again. "For you. I.... I will call my doctor tomorrow and see if he's got openings available when we go back to LA this weekend."

"Thank you," she says, leaning over and throwing her arms around his neck to give him a kiss.

"You might as well kiss me now, sweetheart. It appears some I am going to be a rumpled medical mess."

"You're MY medical mess," she corrects him.

"And I'm going to be your sexy little nurse."

"God, isn't THAT the truth? Only for you am I doing this, you know."

"I know. Rub it in, smart ass."

"MmmmmmHmmmmmm. Can't be TOO sexy, you know. I'm not too sure how.... Well...what my plan is to please you while I'm out for the count."

"I know," she nodded. "But I have some... ideas... To please YOU."

"Oh? Please enlighten me, Nurse Merin. I would rather enjoy hearing a detailed, descriptive plan of action."

"Lean over and I'll whisper it..." she winked.

"And PLEASE. The more descriptive, the better," he grinned, leaning over slightly. At the sound of her words he laughed.

"You probably already know it already," she flushes as she finishes.

"I'm going to tell my mom, that if I die mysteriously in a car accident some day, just assume Trynia was talking about sex in my ear," he laughed heartily.

"Paul, you are AWFUL!" she groaned.

"I think you've found your niche, my love."

"You've found YOURS..." she shot back with an equally mischievous grin.

"AWFULLY good. You told me that once. The best you've ever had, as I recall?" he answered.

"Yes. That's no lie."

"But here's my concern, baby. I want to please you too. I certainly don't expect you to be my nurse maid by day and my oral sex maid by night, without you receiving some relief as well."

"Well you could hire a home care assistant..." Trynia suggested. "A MALE one..."

"So open up that Redbook again, girl," he grinned. Trynia reached around the seat to open the backpack she carried her drawing materials in, and extracted the magazine.

Across her knees she leafed through it, and came to the article she had marked with a sticky note, "Uh-huh.... The article is 10 ways to please your man, while he's having major surgery..."

"But that still doesn't explain how I'm going to bring you to the screaming throes of passion during this whole damn fiasco," Paul said.

"And 10 ways he can do the deed with you..." she read further.

"Hmm."

"To guarantee screaming bliss," she added.

"Pick your favorite, and let's see...." Paul murmured, glancing back toward her.

"1 is interesting... stand over his bed... and sit on his..." she muttered, and then clicked the reading light on so she could make out what it said. "Face?"

"Oho, now you're talking!" Paul laughed.

"And he uses his dexterous tongue to bring you to screaming ecstasy..."

"Huh?" he checks his watch in a mock panic. "Wonder if it's too late to have that surgery done tonight? But seriously, sweets... How would you feel about that? I mean, I know you get shy sometimes."

"Well I'd do anything new... to keep the sparks alight," she relented.

"And you'd be in bondage."

"Yes, there isn't a more effective method of bondage than screaming pain when you move," Paul joked, his eyes lighting up a bit.

"Yikes, Perish the thought!" Trynia groaned.

"Wait... ANYTHING? You said you'd do anything?" he asked, snapping his head around for a moment.

"Yes."

"Damn, where's my tape recorder when we need it?"

"Paul, you are a STINKER..."

"Perhaps.... We should practice our new circus techniques tonight. A dry run, as they say in the theatre?" he suggested, poking her gently in the side.

"All right, consider it a plan," she winked back, drawing a finger along his ribs to tickle him.