Talk To Me: The Dance Thriller, Part 1

Our Voices Stray From Common Ground Where They Could Meet

Hollywood, California
Friday, April 18, 1997
(2:00 pm)
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"I swear, that kid is a genius, Chris. She's six going on thirty."

Stevie was forking through a Cesar salad with chicken and telling Christine all about her niece, Jessi. They had been catching up all through lunch, and so far, Christine hadn't made any comment or asked questions about her love life or how close she and Lindsey had been.

"That's nice for Chris and Lori," Christine said, picking at her salmon. "So...when are you going to fess up to your actual news, Stevie?" She set down her fork and looked across the table, watching Stevie try to pretend she wasn't caught off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...if that man kissed you on the head any more he'd have swallowed your brain cells," Christine said. "What's going on?"

"How the hell do you do that?" Stevie dropped her fork into her salad bowl. "Seriously, Chris, is it because your mother had a sixth sense and it's hereditary?" She could already hear Lindsey's protests later on that day when she told him that Christine was onto them, but she didn't care. She was so happy and so in love she wanted to stand in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard with a megaphone and announce to all of Los Angeles County.

"No, it's because I have eyes," Christine teased. "Tell me the dirt, Stevie. What's going on?"

Stevie sang like a bird. She told Christine about the weekend she and Lindsey had spent together recording "Twisted", how she'd left the door open for it the year before that when she'd gotten out of rehab for the second time and he'd come around to check on her - conveniently leaving out the fact that it was her summer-long affair with Dallas Taylor, her substance abuse counselor and former drummer for Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young that had led her to believe she was ready to open up again, Dallas having requested when they parted ways after the Street Angel tour that she not tell anyone about it out of respect for his girlfriend. She told Christine that she and Lindsey had been talking on the phone for hours all winter, that "Sweet Girl" was almost a direct transcript of a conversation they'd had in bed two years earlier, and the fact that they were together again and completely committed to making it work.

"It's not one of those things, Chris, I swear," Stevie said, knowing she sounded more animated than usual but not able to help herself. "This isn't Tusk or Mirage or any of those times when we couldn't stay out of each other's hotel rooms and then the tour suffers - this is love. This is two people who are older and wiser who are ready to put the past behind them and start again...and it's been amazing. I love him and he loves me."

Christine, who had not done much but nod the entire time Stevie had been speaking, rested her chin against her fist at the table and said, "Can I ask you one question?"

"Sure! I mean, I just told you everything...but try me." Stevie was smiling like a child on Christmas, and she left a little giddy laugh at the end of her sentence.

"How's the sex?"

Stevie began blushing, looking down at the hunter green cloth napkin lying across her lap. She looked back up at her friend, her older sister of over twenty years, and said, "Honestly? So fucking awesome that I don't even know why we spend our time doing anything else!"

Christine erupted into laughter, which made Stevie laugh. She lifted her glass of pinot grigio, which prompted Stevie to lift her own. "To great sex, great friends, great music!"

"Here here!" They clinked glasses and drank their wine, and giggled in unison as they lowered their glasses at the table.

Christine had just summoned the waiter for the check when she saw a young, attractive blonde woman coming towards their table. She wore a black leather blazer and jeans, and was laser-focused on Stevie with a pair of blue eyes. She was smiling as she approached the table.