Talk To Me: The Dance Thriller, Part 1

There's No Sense In Dancin' 'Round The Subject

El Carmen Restaurant
Los Angeles, California
Wednesday, April 3, 1997
(7:00 pm)
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Lindsey had spent the better part of the last two years dreaming of how beautiful Stevie looked the weekend they'd made "Twisted" together.

He was amazed to see that if it was possible, she looked even more stunning tonight.

He had picked her up that evening at the condo she was renting in Santa Monica, and he had barely been able to keep his eyes on the road as he'd driven them to El Carmen for old times' sake, the restaurant where they'd become members of Fleetwood Mac on New Years Eve 1974. She wore a simple black dress as was her way, long golden hair spilling over the velvet shoulders and a light in her eyes that shined brighter than the diamond moon necklace that sat delicately against the exposed skin above her dress and made him shudder to think of those days not so long ago when he'd watched from afar as a prescription medication she didn't need had dimmed that light, the sparkle that made her Stevie Nicks...that made her Stephanie.

Now she was looking down at her menu across the table through silver reading glasses, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and chewing the corner of her lower lip in concentration. It took a moment before she became aware of his eyes on her, and she looked up at him and flashed an absent-minded, innocent smile. "What?"

"You," Lindsey answered honestly. "You're back."

"I haven't been gone that long, Linds. You know I'm happiest in Arizona these days and..." But Lindsey cut her off, laughter in his voice.

"No, I don't mean back in California," he said. "I mean you're back, Stevie. I saw it two years ago but then...I don't know...some time passed and you were in Arizona and I'd forgotten..." He watched her tilt her head slightly to the side. "All that time you weren't you, angel...you know what I mean."

"I do." Stevie removed her reading glasses and set them down on top of her open menu. She looked across the table and found a familiar pair of blue eyes looking at her in the dim light of the restaurant. "I'm sorry about that. I had no idea it was even happening until..." She looked down at the table, but she felt his hand cover hers and she looked up again. "But I'm back. I'm me again."

"Good," said Lindsey, smiling. "I've missed you."

Stevie wondered if he was just speaking of missing her through the eight years she'd lost herself in a haze of klonopin. He could also be talking about the fact that just about two years ago, she had arrived in Santa Monica on a Friday evening with the demo for "Twisted" and had spent the next two days beside him, singing, sharing take-out meals and conversation just like old times, and finally sharing herself with him completely, her body and her heart belonging completely to him until she'd left on a rainy Sunday morning, both of them knowing it was just the beginning of something but not sure what. His hand on hers sent a shiver down her spine as she recalled his hands on her body that weekend, and she looked down again with a bashful little smile that made him wish he could leap across the table and kiss her.

A pitcher of margaritas and chips and salsa and guacamole offered temporary relief from the obvious tension at the table. They dug into the chips with abandon, and the conversation turned mercifully to business for awhile.

"It's a whole multi-camera thing," Lindsey was saying. "I told Mick and John and Chris we'd hold off talking about which songs to include until you got here, but they think opening with 'The Chain' makes the most sense...and Christine will close with 'Songbird' like always."

"This is just a thought, Linds, but are you going to finally find a way to sneak 'Bleed To Love Her' in there?" Stevie picked up a chip and dipped it in salsa before taking a bite. "It's been hovering since Tango and it's a shame it's not out there...I love that song."