Culver Studios
Culver City, California
Thursday, February 27, 2003
********************"I'm slipping into my blues self," Stevie said with laughter in her voice.
Stevie and Lindsey say in director's chairs with their backup singers, trying to work out the vocal arrangements for "World Turning". Mick had gotten himself a special percussion vest and planned to turn "World Turning into his special moment on stage with a long, showman-like drum solo, but for the bulk of the song, they still had to work out the notes. Stevie was in much better spirits than she had been in the day before, Lindsey acknowledged, when she'd come in looking like she had not slept in years, no makeup on, her hair dried into its natural curls and giving off "Rooms On Fire" vibes, a scowl on her face that even the coffee Karen continuously served her throughout the morning being of no help to her mood. Today she was present, focused and even chipper, her hair straightened, sunglasses on, dressed in black and looking like "Stevie Nicks", which he knew was an effort for her when things were not going well and she was up all night with insomnia and old movies on TV. It was Lindsey who was running on empty today, and Stevie could see that something was amiss. She knew that Kristen's birthday was tomorrow; she'd be thirty-two, and they were also in the process of finally moving into the newly-renovated house which had taken them over a year and a lot more money than Lindsey had planned on to complete.
Thirty-two. Stevie tried not to roll her eyes or comment whenever Kristen's age came up in conversation. Stevie had been thirty-two in 1980, the year she spent recovering from the hell that had been Tusk and throwing herself full steam ahead into Belladonna, as well as her relationship with Jimmy Iovine. She tried not to think of how Kristen had been in the fifth grade while she'd been out there chasing after Tom Petty's musical advice and friendship and snorting enough cocaine to make her thoroughly crazy and reckless enough to move into Jimmy's house within ten days of a relationship, much to the chagrin of Robin, who was complaining that she was tired and losing weight rapidly and had no idea why. She and Lindsey had been almost totally estranged while she was pursuing her solo album - and Jimmy - and after his behavior on the Tusk tour the break had been quite welcome. Every once in awhile, while flipping cable channels late at night, she would catch the video of the two of them singing "Angel" together in Missouri, sharing a mic, their wardrobe choices questionable - the hats they wore in particular - and looking like they were totally in sync. In fact, they had been at each other's throats, and it had all come to a head one night in March 1980 - when Kristen was ten years old, Stevie noted - when Lindsey had tanked up on whiskey before a concert in New Zealand and decided he'd had enough of pretending not to be angry at her. After mimicking her "Rhiannon" twirls, he's kicked her with his steel-toe boots in full view of the audience, and finally chucked a Les Paul guitar right at her head. When she'd ducked and the guitar had not made contact, he'd finally stormed off the stage, the four of them chasing after him in a rage...
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Stevie was angry at the tears in her eyes but she wasn't letting them stop her. "What the hell is the matter with you? We are live! This is a concert! Isn't it enough that you hate me in private?" She had followed him back to the dressing rooms by then, and bodyguards were standing by; they knew this was going to get ugly. Everyone around them knew this had been coming on for months...years.
"Stay the fuck away from me, Stevie, just...stay the fuck away from me!" Lindsey's head was in his hands as he continued to walk away, but he knew his attempt at escaping Stevie's wrath - let alone Christine's - was futile.
"If I could I would, asshole! In case you haven't noticed, we are WORKING TONIGHT! This is our JOB! Throw all the shit at me you want; I'm not quitting!"
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