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"This is such bullshit" Ace said to himself as he carefully reapplied the white foundation on his face. White make-up surrounded the black outlines which highlighted the shining silver, emphasizing his hazy eyes. The sharp black lines which had begun to smudge a bit complemented the dull feeling he had inside. If no one knew better, they would think that the dreamlike visage was a part of his persona, the Space Ace, someone who was untouchable and far away in his own little world. He was able to play along and pretend everything was okay. For now.
Tonight, lighting and fans who wanted pictures and a moment of the band’s time at tonight’s show diluted the outlines of his signature look, reflecting the dimmed lustre he was feeling inside. Although it was a routine he had come to know due to years of practice and precision, he felt as if he might as well be living on another planet. He felt like a stranger on a strange land. What was once a fun gig he once enjoyed now became a performative dog and pony show that he was starting to resent.
“Fuck it,” he said to himself as he began his post performance routine. Another gig down until he fulfilled his part of the contract.
Although he was publicly known as the jokester of the bunch, Ace was feeling anything but mellow. Their latest album was a clusterfuck of a situation. It made absolutely no sense that they would try for a project like the `Elder' which felt more like a vanity project for Gene and Bob Ezrin. Paul saw it as a way to creatively express themselves which is why he went along with it while Bob wanted to recreate Destroyer. Ace understood that any self respecting artist should be able to express themselves and try new sounds and experiment. That was part of the process, otherwise you would stagnate. But there are times when certain things are best left to certain people. It's one thing to try something new, it's another thing to try to be something they weren’t. He didn’t understand why they would deviate from a formula that worked for them. That would be like AC/DC going folk. They were never about politics or about saving the rainforest. They were about partying, girls, and standing up for yourself. He understood the theatrical aspect of their group. They were a musical and visual spectacle but somewhere along the way they made a wrong turn at Albuquerque. They were trying to be Pink Floyd when they should have gone for something heavier like Motoread. The charts were unforgiving, they should have gone for a sound like “Back in Black” or “Crazy Train”. They were not fucking Lake, Emerson, and Palmer.
The disco song was like the Monkey’s Paw. It gave them mainstream appeal but it came at a cost. Now, they were yesterday’s news. A joke. Their new single was a hit overseas but in America, he could feel it. He knew Paul hated too but the survival of the band overrode any personal sentiment. The problem was that Gene’s cape and merch obsession overtook the music which made them lose credibility amongst the fans. For Gene, you might as well have created Lennon or Page in a microwave. Creativity and spontaneity were not part of his vocabulary. They were losing their way, their magic touch. The Judas kiss was that shitty kid film. They were supposed to return with “Super KISS” but it went over like a bad copy of Flash Gordon. Even the shows were becoming monotonous. Everything was automatic, like a badly choreographed Broadway show which stifled him creatively. Even the language had to be toned down. He didn’t feel like a rockstar, he felt more like a character on H.R. Puff N Stuff.
He got that you had to suck it up and at the end of the day this was a job to a point but at what price? Even workaholic Simmons was getting testy. The appearance with Gene on Don Lane was underlined by unspoken division. He was having fun with the host joking and laughing while Geno was making smoochy faces to some girl in the audience.
The last few years in this gig had sullen and soured his wounds.He chose to drown his sorrows in drink or girls but even that had become a chore. It was like putting a bandage on an amputation. It was starting to become stifling and more difficult to pretend. Still, he had to make the best of it while he was still under contract. Pete was gone which meant that any decisions they made as a group were null. He was outvoted. Gene and Paul were treating him like a third wheel rather than as part of a team.
He had found a new playmate with their new drummer Eric but he was still homesick for Peter.
Eric was so innocent it was adorable. He was so humble he still had a day job. At least Eric wasn't a total stiff like the other two in the band. He was also a decent kisser too. He almost felt bad leaving him behind. The band that he co-founded started to feel more like a demanding lover rather than an equal partnership.
Their latest gig was for this variety show, Fridays. The producers and staff were very friendly and gave each band member his own dressing room which was perfect for Ace as he needed the breathing room away from the group, especially Gene and Paul.
"Ten minutes, Ace!" A stagehand knocked from outside. A girl tried to force her way in but Big John pushed her aside. More than likely he would `inspect' her first before passing her onto Ace or one of the other members. It was a little funny and a little sad. Girls would do anything and everything just to spend time with one of them. They would do the most degrading shit just for attention or for a chance to spend the night with any of them. It was hilarious and weird, like that one time he and Pete poured ketchup, mustard, and pickles all over a naked girl and pushed her out into the hall while she was still high. The groupies were cute, like the girl next door. After some time, they were dancing with stars and models at Studio 54. While he enjoyed the companionship of a girl for a night, there were times when he wanted some companionship and connection. Sometimes all he wanted was just a little conversation.
Through the mirror he could see a light peek through.
“Just give me a minute, baby, then I’m all yours,” Ace smiled to himself. He was going to miss this perk. The smirk on his face vanished as soon as he was greeted with a towering vampiric giant figure staring down at him. Ace saw the grim visage of his bass player, sharp dark outlines around his eyes giving the other man a very menacing demeanor.
Oh shit, he is going to give me another lecture? Can't he just fuck off and leave me alone?
Everyone was used to the demonic, evil-looking figure stomping up and down with those monster boots and breathing fire, prowling along the stage looking for his next victim. Standing there made him look like a living gargoyle.
"Do you have a minute?" the bass player asked dimly. .
"I got thirty seconds," Ace replied flatly, trying to keep the distance between them.
"What are you doing?" Gene stated simply. There was something off-putting about hearing Gene speak in a normal to deep tone. When he would talk in his teacher voice while in his Demon persona, it was a little off putting. It made him look slow and methodical, like a predator ready to ambush.
"Powdering my nose, what’s it look like?"
"No, what are YOU doing?" Gene said in a deeper tone. Ace looked at Gene from the corner of his eyes. This shit again?
“I told you, I’m gettin’ ready. I’ll be out in a minute,” Ace replied as he touched up his signature black lips.
'
“Your form was stiff this evening,” the Demon observed. Ace rolled his eyes. “You weren’t really engaging. You look like you were mentally checked out.”
“Yeah well, when your coworkers are givin’ you the cold shoulder, it’s hard to feel like you’re part of a team,” Ace shot back.
“At least pretend you are still on this planet,” Gene stated simply. Ace turned around and glared back at the bass player.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
"You did not give it your all. You were just gliding, standing in the background like some shy geisha instead of owning the stage!" Ace turned around and glared back at the bass player.
"The fuck?" Ace replied defiantly. What a control freak. He needed to learn to relax. If something wasn’t up to his ambiguous standards, he would berate you for anything no matter how innocuous or small.
"Well pardon me, Geno but I didn't hear anyone complainin’. You should know after all this time, that’s what I do, I always let you have the stage since you're an attention freak an’ all. Maybe I am just being considerate. You're always yelling at me that I am not pulling my weight and when I do, you’re still complainin’." Ace hated confrontation, often preferring to settle things by being the peacemaker but right now he was in no mood to engage in Gene’s bullshit.
"You’re underselling yourself. You can be so much more than this. Ace, you are making a very big mistake" Gene stated simply.
“How am I making a mistake? By quitting the band, is that it? I already made up my mind S’not my fault you and Paul have a problem with it” the lead guitarist protested.
“You are so much more than this. You are throwing away an opportunity without thinking about the consequences.” Gene glared at Ace.
"Excuse me, Geno but you ain't my dad. Even he doesn't pull that condescending attitude on me." Who does he think he’s foolin’?
"And that is where he failed and that is exactly the problem. You don’t care,” The Demon said gruffly, hovering over Ace who sat there letting Gene’s words and intimidation tactics roll off his back like water off a duck.
“I think you’re confused, Geno. I just choose not to stress out about things I can't control." Gene was smart but it was like talking to a wall most of the time. It was all about control. Pete noticed it and now that he was gone, Ace getting the brunt of it.
“You’re just making excuses and not really thinking things through. Don't you have ambition, goals, or drive?". Gene closed the door behind him, closing in the space between them giving
them some much needed privacy.
"I do and you didn’t listen when I told you that doing that disco shit was a terrible idea but I played along, didn’t I?” Ace replied, staring at the mirror at Gene rather than directly at him.
“Sometimes you have to take calculated risks,” Gene replied in a deadpan way.
“Yeah, the risk was losing fans which affects your bottom line. We lost street cred. You think I’m happy looking like something out of fuckin’ Sesame Street up there? I see five year olds with lunchboxes out there. It’s embarrassing,” Ace shot back. Gene had business sense but no street smarts. This is why the critics never respected them. He was all talk but no balls.
“You're behavior on national television is embarrassing," Gene countered.
Oh for fuck’s sake. He’s still hung up about that shit?
"You know Gene, you really need to lay offa’ people. If you weren't such an asshole all the time, people would like you more," Ace replied.
“I’m difficult because I have to be. Unlike you, I actually care about the survival of this band, Ace. Of us. Don’t you see what you are doing?" Ace shook his head. There was Gene doing his
controlling macho bullshit. It was all an act to cover up his own insecurities.
“Yeah, I know what I’m doin’. I’m doin’ what you and Paul want. We both know the two of you want me out of the group-”Ace started but not before he was winded and felt Gene tug at him
very firmly by the arm, momentarily stunning the lead guitarist. .
"Don’t say that. The contract asks for three original members. You breach it and there will be consequences,” the bass player said promptly. Ace laughed softly and shook his head.
"That's your problem, right there. You can't force things on people. They aren't your little toys. Look, just forget it, I am fed up with this bullshit and I know you are too. Just let me do this
thing and I will quit like you want me to,” Ace said before he turned his back on the bass player. but not before he felt a hand on his shoulder, this time the touch was more gentle.
“Think about your wife. How will you support her? Your new child?” The nerve of this fucker using his own family as a weapon to guilt trip him from leaving. It was like a bad joke.
"Look Gene I may be a lot of things but I ain't a whore for your pay. There's more to life than Jacksons.”
"Like what? Poisoning my body with dangerous substances to the point that you lose concentration and almost electrocute yourself to death?" Gene roared back.
“You’re still hung up about that? Jesus Geno, let it go. It’s not that different from you swallowing that kerosene. That’s a one way trip to esophageal cancer right there.” Ace retorted.
"You will be throwing your life away and you have no support. Who will help you?" Gene's tone lowered a few timbers. Ace noted the sudden shift. Was it his imagination or did he detect a '
hint of desperation in his words?
“Why do you care? I’ll be fine,” Ace countered.
“You won’t have the management’s support behind you. You won’t have the machine to promote you.” Each word coming out of Gene was like a bullet, an attempt to pierce at his armor,
Ace reminded himself.
“Just stop. We all know it’s you and Paul and me and Pete. Pete’s gone so what makes you think I wanna stay?” The lead guitarist shot back.
“Peter is Peter. He is emotional and he uses substances to cope with the demands of touring.” Gene was right about Petey but he was so dismissive. The condescending attitude and lack of
compassion creating a divide between the four of them. How Gene did not see that was beyond him.
“Like you don’t with all the pussy you get every night? How is that different, Geno?”
“Everyone is fully conscious and is consenting.”
“Really? Do you make them sign a contract,” Ace scoffed, trying to lighten the mood between them. Gene would use intimidation to get his way but Ace would catch his bluff or neutralize
the situation somehow.
"I will tell our management to renegotiate your contract. All you have to do is fulfill your obligations,” Gene said promptly, closing the gap between them. There was a shift in the air.
"This is starting to sound like a prenup!" Ace laughed.
"This isn’t a joke, Ace. There is a lot at stake here. The contract, the promotions, the tour amongst other things. Are you going to throw it all away for some selfish need to get high?" Gene
dug deeper.
"Have you considered the possibility that I get high from being around you and Paul? Jesus Gene, I knew you were smart but sometimes you can be really dense," Ace retorted. They started
out as brothers who shared a common dream a lifetime ago. Now they were strangers. It had become a toxic relationship between all of them where ego, gaslighting, dysfunction, and destructive coping mechanisms had replaced the camaraderie they once had: Ace with his drinking, Peter with drugs, Gene with womanizing, Paul with his narcissism. It was like a marriage that slowly disintegrated over the years.
"Everything is a choice. You can change this. You have talent, a gift and you are abusing it by putting those substances into your body. You’re not thinking clearly," Gene replied, this time
his words were more methodical, focused, trying to throw out as many cards as he could. He wasn’t getting it. Either it was because he was really dense or he didn’t want to believe that
Ace was seriously considering leaving the band.
"That's not the point. I’m done." Ace stood up, looking at the other man defiantly. He was fed up. Yelling wouldn’t help and making a joke wasn’t doing anything. Maybe there was another way Gene would listen.
"You are tired. I understand but you don't throw in the towel when you are tired. You may take a break but don't throw the baby out with the bathwater," Gene said in a tone just above a whisper. The atmosphere between them shifted exponentially. Only moments ago were several feet apart from one another, a respectable distance for a pep talk or scolding. Now, they were just inches apart. If anyone were to walk by and pass them, one would assume that they needed their privacy because they were in the middle of a very heated argument or sharing a very intimate moment.
"I already told you, I’ll be fine. This gig isn’t what it was.” Ace stood up, looking at Gene defiantly. The two of them stood eying each other. Each one trying to make sense of the other’s scheme. Looking back at him, Gene noticed Ace’s body language and blank countenance. His face was projecting a sense of firm groundedness, very much unlike Ace’s surreal alter ego. It was hard to read at first but Gene could see the slight downturn of Ace’s lip, suggesting hesitation. Only moments earlier, Gene came into the space like a fire breathing dragon ready to seek and destroy. What Ace was looking at now was something different. Gene’s glare was intense but his eyes projected a sort of longing, of a need to connect.
Gene leaned in closer, ending the distance between them by placing a hand on Ace’s arm. A shiver went up into the lead guitarist’s body. The way Gene touched him was one of connection rather than possession.
“Eric thinks you are a riot and he feels very comfortable with you,” Gene said assuringly in a warm tone.
“Eric’s a good kid. Be gentle with him,” Ace smiled.
“I will but not in the way you did in Paris,” Gene grinned. Ace laughed.
“He’s gonna get eaten alive. You and Paulie better show him the ropes,” the guitarist countered.
"He may not show it but Paul thinks the world of you. You may be a lot of things but you still have a place with us." Gene tugged at Ace, pulling him close. Ace’s heart rate quickened, his breath shuddered. It had been a long time since he had this feeling by being in close proximity to the bass player aside from the shows where everything was part of an act, just like when he would fall on his back and Gene and Paul would come over and continue playing.
This was different, it brought a slight jolt of electricity through his body, bringing back faint memories from another time when they were close.
Very close.
"You would care if I left?" Ace said finally. His mouth twisted upwards like a Cheshire cat, eyes gleaming mischievously; his black tinted lips gave him an inviting lustre which Gene immediately locked into.
"Yes, because it would mean that I failed," Gene stated firmly. A flash of faint visuals flooded his brain, vague memories of those moments when they shared hotel rooms, taking him back to a time during those long and lonely nights where they only had a vision and each other.
"You fail? You are like the Amazing Gene. You can make anything happen." The lead guitarist said warmly.
"I know I can’t make you stay, but know that I can’t….." Gene began but could not finish. He noted that Gene's hand had loosened completely and was now holding him by his back. Something had entangled his tongue. There was a tenderness Ace had not seen in a long time.
“Can’t what? Can’t stand to see me go?” Ace teased. This had been one of the most intimate conversations they had had in a long time.
“I know I can’t make you choose. I want you to carefully consider this option,” Gene said finally, wrapping his other hand around Ace, running it gently on his back which made the guitarist arch slightly, a magnetic jolt went up his spine.
“So what are you saying…..that I ‘got to choose’? You’re not making this any easier, Geno,” Ace chuckled, smiling even more brightly when he saw the Demon’s lips curve slightly up, indicating common ground between them. It had been a long time since he had seen that face beam that way. The silver painted faced smile made the Demon’s heart pace faster.
“Good, I never said I was ‘easy’,” the Demon grinned,
“That’s not what the groupies think,” Ace replied leaning in closer. He felt Gene’s hands pulling him closer, their bodies almost touching.
“You matter more than the groupies,” Gene replied. Ace’s lithe build and epicene features did not help.
“You trying to shmooze me up, Geno? Tryin’ to make it easier for me?” Ace asked, leaning forward. Their faces were barely touching.
“I am asking you to think about what you are doing if you choose to leave all this behind.”
“What are you getting at? Don’t tease? It’s rude,” Ace cooed.
“Paul teases. I’m straightforward. You should know that by now.”
“Then why do I get the feeling that it’s not just the band that you are worried that I am leaving? You know, you have a big head but you’re such a softie. I can’t stay mad atcha’,” Ace purred. His mouth parted slightly. begging for contact.
“My tongue is also big,” Gene smirked, sticking his tongue, pulling Ace closer. Ace teased him back sticking out his own tongue which almost touched the other’s.
“Oh, I know, I’ve tried it.” Ace purred. His slightly parted mouth was begging for contact.
“The first time you did that, it was gross. I had to go backstage and get mouthwash.”
“You didn’t complain when I started doing it on your neck,” he took the opportunity to plant a kiss on the guitarist’s neck. Ace’s body reflexed automatically upon feeling contact, a shock brought back memories from another time. The pit of his stomach was aflutter. “We can do what you want to do for the next album. So we hit a detour. We can start again. You can keep recording from home.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna be at home. Maybe I just wanna play,” Ace looked at Gene suggestively.
“Do you remember how we used to ‘play’?” Gene grinned slightly, knowing that Ace was not referring to jamming. The unspoken tension, the glances, the physical contact during the shows hinting at what the other was communicating. Some things could only be expressed, not said. The way their legs would entwine onstage, the way Ace arched his back and almost touching the floor while Gene hovered over him. A secret language only they knew but was written off by the press as a bizarre “burlesque” show
“Are you talking about those shitty dive bars or school auditoriums?” Ace teased.
“I wasn’t talking about the shows,” the bass player said flatly, pulling Ace closer possessively. A small yelp coming out from the lead guitarist, surprised by the display of assertion. He wanted to confirm what he knew was on the bass player's mind.
Ace leaned in and gave Gene a small peck on the cheek. Immediately, he could feel the tension ease out of Gene's body like a mist from a spring. The connection the two of them made breached beyond all levels of their consciousness and comprehension. It was like a weight being lifted. Gene pulled Ace closer, establishing the heat of physical contact they had not felt in years.
Ace leaned in again but this time he aimed for Gene's mouth, establishing the contact they both craved. Ace applied feather light pressure but it was Gene who took control and pressed his lips against the lead guitarist.
Kissing his lead guitarist was on a different level than with a groupie. Groupies differed slightly from each other based on height or hair color. Each girl had a slightly different flavor but they were mostly interchangeable. Sure there were the adventurous ones but even they were the exception. It was like being pampered by a maid. It felt good but it was nothing like this. This was someone he bonded with on the road and onstage. Someone who understood where he was on another level which made this contact even more intense, more powerful, intimate.
Ace submitted and let Gene run his hands on his back and pull him closer. He was slightly taken aback at the interest the bass player was expressing. In between kisses, Ace let out a small chuckle, noting the Demon’s hunger for his tongue.
"Wow," Ace mouthed softly. So, there was something to their interactions onstage. His muscles contracted as he desired more contact.
"Gene, Ace?" A familiar voice called from the other side of the door. Gene immediately pushed him back, forcing Ace onto his back, pinning him down. The door opened suddenly. A cool whoosh of air entered the room, taking away the secretive ambiance that was there only moments earlier.
It was Paul.
“Gene, are you here? The opening act is about to-” Paul’s face turned pale white underneath his make-up upon seeing his bass player pinning their lead guitarist on the floor. Gene glaring at him, as if he was interrupting something. Ace smiled up at Paul with heavily lidded eyes.
“Hey Paulie,” the Spaceman said lackadaisically, waving a lazy hand in his direction.
Paul processed the scene in front of him as if he was adding two plus two but it came out to five. Gene stood up quickly, pulling Ace up with him.
“We are about to go on. Are you ready?” Paul said with carefully measured words, his mind trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.
“I was just giving Ace a pep talk, just as we discussed,” Gene retorted quickly, trying to shoo Paul out as fast as he could.
“Hmm, I am glad you did, but I am just not sure why you both have to be on the floor,” Paul said suspiciously.
“We talked it out in our own way, Paulie,” Ace replied, a mischievous smile on his face.
“And what manner would that be?” Paul glared.
“We were arm wrestling? You know, exercise is a good stress reliever,” Ace laughed. Gene stared ahead, his stone face hiding the embarrassment he was feeling inside.
“Arm wrestling usually involves a table, Ace.” Paul spat.
“Yeah, well, we had to improvise, right Geno?” Ace cackled. Gene did not move.
“Right. Whatever, we’re on next,” Paul said dryly, looking over the both of them like a disappointed parent before walking out. His mind was unable to comprehend how and why Gene was on top of Ace.
*****************************************************************************
The show went on during the Prime Time slot and was a success. The audience was excited. The band interacted with the fans and staff, smiles and laughs abound. Ace chatted with the audience members who stayed, answering questions and giving them that endearing cackle. Gene made the audience members both feel intimidated and laugh with his signature poses, tongue wagging, and jokes. He posed for photos with Eric. Eric was becoming more comfortable with his new role. He was a welcome addition to the band. He had a lot to learn but his endearing personality won over many fans. Ace was attached to him like an older sibling. Paul interacted with the female members of the audience, flirting with them, making them feel special by promising them one night of happiness. It was a momentary distraction from the black cloud that plagued his mind.
Was Gene THAT attached to their soon to be ex- lead guitarist? Had it bothered him that much that Ace would leave that he would resort to such measures?
From the way it looked, The kiss was perhaps one of the most exhilarating things he had ever had. It had been a long time since he felt that way. Had it bothered him that much that Ace would leave? These thoughts percolated in his mind as he prepared to take off the make-up in his room. Finally, alone with his thoughts. He had the mental space to process the evening’s events.
“You mind telling me what that was all about?” Paul asked sharply, his arms crossed when he found Gene preparing to take off the black and white face paint. Gene’s concentration broke when he saw the lead singer looking at him.
“I told Ace he was making a big mistake,” Gene said coldly.
“Is that all you said to him?” Paul prodded on.
“I only told him what was necessary,” Gene replied dryly, not wanting to give Paul something to use against him. He measured his words and tone carefully.
“I see. Was tonsil hockey ‘necessary’?” Paul sneered.
“You sound jealous, it’s adorable” Gene smirked, hoping that the comment would annoy and make him leave. He was starting to wonder if this is what Ace was feeling earlier tonight.
“You know we have to be careful with our image. What if it was someone else who saw?”
“What you saw was me convincing Ace that he was going to make a mistake. He tried to open the door but I wouldn’t let him until the issue was resolved. THAT is what YOU saw,” Gene stared at Paul, attempting to put an end to this interrogation.
The audacity of this asshole, Paul thought.
“Right, you pushed him onto the floor to stop him from leaving.”
“That’s right,” Gene nodded.
“Then tell me why Ace looked like he was in a state of afterglow. And don’t say drugs because both know what he looks like when he is high.”
“Ace had a little too much of the funny juice,” Gene replied, walking out.
Paul couldn't help but reevaluate and reflect where Gene stood on all this. They were partners on a professional level. They had the same drive and goals for the band. They were driven and wanted to make this work. But now, Paul was starting to ponder if there was another layer to the man he saw as his equal. Gene was never one for sentiment. His reptilian brain only worked in one direction. Paul was now wondering if Gene’s heart was somewhere else.
With someone else.
At one point, Paul noticed Ace smiling back at him, giving him a knowing look that suggested something that they both knew but could not convey in words. Paul quashed the very thought before it could fully form but still, fragments of it would creep into his mind, casting doubt. A half formed cloudy thought that remained as enigmatic as Ace himself. The Starchild may have been the Demon’s business partner, but it was the Spaceman who had his heart.