Kind Of Woman (Mirage Era: Part 1)

Temptation Falls In Your Path

Chateau d'Herouville
"The Honkey Chateau"
Herouville, France
Monday, November 2, 1981
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The first thing she was going to do when she got to the house was to pour herself an iced tea.

Stevie had been in the car for what seemed like years after landing at the airport in Paris and meeting the driver who held a cardboard sign reading Nicks. She had spent the first few minutes of the ride watching out the window as Paris grew smaller and smaller behind her, and then she'd just stared straight ahead as some French pop music station played on the radio and she wondered what kind of a scene she was about to walk into when she finally got to the house...if she ever got to the house. My God, how big WAS France?! Was this car traversing the entire country? She was hot, she was dying of thirst and she desperately needed a bed to sleep in for about twelve hours. She hoped she wasn't mobbed by everyone and made to start working immediately...she needed a moment to decompress.

As the car drove through the gates of the house, Stevie felt kind of guilty that she was too tired to take  in the scenery. All her eyes could make out was Mick Fleetwood, standing outside on the front landing in a puffy white shirt, smoking a cigarette and looking up at something in one of the nearby trees on the property. She couldn't help but smile past her exhaustion and everything else that was bothering her...Mick looked slightly ridiculous out there all alone in the French countryside. She began to make out more clearly what he'd been looking at the whole time as the car continued on up the path - it was a family of little birds in the tree.

"Ah, the successful solo artist returns!" Mick's voice rang out in the afternoon sun as he began to walk closer to the car. Stevie had rolled down her window to see and she could clearly see Mick, arms outstretched, smiling at her.

"That's not funny yet, Michael," she yelled out of the car window at him just before the driver came to a stop. "What the hell is this place? Why fucking France?" The driver had opened the rear door for her and she was stepping out of the car as she spoke.

"That is exactly what Lindsey asked...like verbatim, when we told him this is where we were recording," Mick said, and he reached out to give her a rather generous hug that enveloped her completely and lasted a little too long. Into her ear, he whispered, "How is she?" Everyone knew what has happening with Robin.

"Who the hell knows...but she's fighting an infection now and I just saw her yesterday..." Stevie had to stop herself for a moment and think...That was yesterday, right? "Anyway, it's still up in the air but I don't want to talk about it."

Mick released her with an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. "I get it," he said in a much more serious tone, squeezing her hand.

"I'm serious, Mick. I don't want everyone doing that thing people do when something terrible is happening...that whole head tilt and knowing look thing...I'm here, I'm ready to rumble...Let's make and album and have some fun while we do it, huh?"

"Speaking of fun..." Mick reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and held up a small vial of cocaine. "If you're tired, if you need a pick-me-up...I've got you, kid."

Stevie smiled devilishly and said, "I brought my own fun, Mick, but thanks for the offer." She had to stand on her tiptoes - even in her big black boots - to kiss him on the cheek before dragging two of her three enormous suitcases with her up the path to the house, calling out to him, "Don't stand there like a statue, Mick...take my other bag!" Mick dutifully took her third suitcase and followed her up the path to the front door.

"Jesus Christ, Stevie, what's in this thing?" Mick asked as he lugged the heavy suitcase along.

"Journals and demos," she said, looking backwards at him. "This is an album, and there are my contributions, silly." She smiled.