Tango In The Night Part 1: Big Love

You Said That You Love Me

Hollywood Hills, California
Tuesday, May 1987
(7:30 pm)
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The dress had a puffy black lace skirt.

Stevie was trying not to sit down, even though her feet were already killing her in the black stiletto boots she had decided would complete the look, a black bustier top peeking out of a houndstooth jacket, her long blonde curls spilling over the shoulders but held in place over one ear with a little black comb that, if you looked closely, had a little silver angel on it. She had twisted her hair up into it an hour ago, already imagining Lindsey pulling it out and singing her that old country song they used to hear on the radio all the time when they were first together, driving home from the coffee plant at three in the morning with her head on his shoulder, half asleep.

"Take the ribbon from my hair...shake it loose and let it fall...Lay it loose upon my skin, like the shadows on the wall..."

He was half an hour late and she was starting to wonder if she should just take the damn comb out herself, shed the whole outfit and get into the bubble bath herself...and just...slide under the water for awhile and see what happened.

This is not happening. He's not standing me up on my birthday. He LOVES my birthday! He treats May 26 like it's Christmas morning and we're six years old!

Correction, she thought. He used to treat May 26 like Christmas morning...before he'd found out there were other women out there who were not her.

She had to sit down...fuck the puffy lace skirt. Her feet were killing her. The dogs were rolling around on the Persian rug and sharing a stuffed bunny that Barbara had added to her Easter basket years ago, when they were living in Salt Lake City and she didn't believe in the Easter Bunny anymore but Christopher still did. It had fallen out of a memory box in the closet about a year ago when she'd been fresh out of rehab and alone one night feeling sentimental...and had quickly become a dog toy. She tried to smile, watching crazy, zippy, puppy-like Sara Belladonna get her much-older, almost blind sister all riled up and acting like a puppy again, the puppy she was almost two decades ago at Ruth and Morris Buckingham's house, when she and Lindsey were young and in love and none of this had ever happened.

It was supposed to be my special night. We were going out to dinner, coming home to take a bubble bath and he'd wash me again like the other morning when his gentle soapy hands almost brought tears to my eyes...and then he'd wrap me up in a big, fluffy towel like Mom used to do at the beach and then take me to bed and make love to me and hold me till it wasn't my birthday anymore and I fell asleep in his arms because he always says he'll keep me warm.

She tried to reason with herself. This was not the first time a man had broken a promise to her, nor was it the first time she'd had to deal with a man who was not completely hers and be understanding about it. She'd answered lots of disappointing phone calls, heard lots of different excuses before.

But not on her birthday. And not from Lindsey.

When she heard the old grandfather clock in the foyer strike eight, she sucked in a breath and tried to tell herself she was not starting to cry, that there were not tears blinding her view of the dogs on the carpet and threatening the makeup she'd applied to look her best so she believed Lindsey when he called her "beautiful Stephanie" like he did. She tried to avoid an opening round of the usual game in her head, What Did I Do.

Maybe it wasn't what you've done, she told herself. You know, sometimes, Stevie...it's actually not your fault. Sometimes Lindsey Buckingham is a selfish, entitled asshole. Don't you remember that? You've been shouting it at him for ten years!

She tried to hold onto that line of thought, but it was no easy thing to do when she was unable to get the warm, cozy image of him holding her in bed out of her mind, or the sweetness of his kisses as they'd stood under the shower together and he'd called her sweet girl, or the way his eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree as they'd planned tonight and he'd told her he felt like it was his birthday too because getting to touch her was his present.

Goddamn it, Lindsey...you have four hours until it's not my birthday anymore...and until we forget this whole thing.

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Beverly Hills, California
Tuesday, May 26, 1987
(9:30 pm)
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"The least goddamn thing you can do is talk to people!"

Cheri hissed into Lindsey's ear and he could feel the martini she was drinking seeping into his flesh.

"I'm sorry, but you dragged me to this shit," Lindsey said. "I'm doing exactly what I said I'd do and nothing more. I hate this shit and you know I hate this shit."

Not to mention I have stood up the woman I actually love on her birthday and I can't get the fuck out of here fast enough to race over there and beg her forgiveness.

"I swear to God, Lindsey, sometimes I wonder if you really want to be a part of this with me," Cheri said with a damning look in her eyes.

"Wonder no more, Cheri," he muttered, pressing his lips to a glass of expensive beer. "Wonder no more."

The huff she stormed off in made him smile.

He stopped smiling, however, as he stood beside the bar and watched older producers hit on teenaged actress-wannabes, watched over-the-hill women getting drunk but not touching the food, and wanting desperately to creep up to the dark, vintage bedroom in the Hollywood Hills were a sweet, beautiful birthday girl with long blonde curls and probably some kind of black pouffy skirt was lying in bed with two little dogs and waiting for him, and then crawl into bed and hold her and promise her this was the last night he'd ever let her be his second choice.

He'd learned his lesson tonight. All he wanted was Stevie. He prayed it wasn't too late to let her know.

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