Sweet Girl (Love Is..., Part 2)

Sometimes I Feel I Was Always On Call

Century City, California
Friday, May 25, 2018
(3:30 pm)
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"I am not waiting around here all day, Bob. If she doesn't show in the next five minutes, I'm out."

Being late to anything at all was not a characteristic that Kristen Buckingham had ever displayed. Lindsey had known her for twenty-one years, and she had always been the one to be awake at six, packing lunches, showing up early to meetings with clients, the first to arrive at a dinner party.

He wondered if this was a tactic.

"Look, Lindsey, if she doesn't show up, we have to reschedule, and the Memorial Day weekend is coming...people are leaving town early for the long weekend...stay and wait. We have to settle this today.

Bob Feinstein, a lawyer recommended by Lindsey's long-time manager, Tony, shot Lindsey a look that was both understanding and caution. Bob sat at the round conference table to his left, and to his right sat Patricia Stapleton, the lawyer representing Kristen in the divorce, recommended by Lynn Fleetwood. Kristen's empty chair was speaking louder than anyone in the room.

Lindsey had petitioned the court for full visitation rights with Stella, their only minor child, at his current home address with no restrictions other than the time schedule. Kristen had opposed it up until now. They were meeting this afternoon to discuss it, and Kristen's lack of appearance was not the only worry on his mind.

Tomorrow, May 26, 2018, Stevie turned seventy years old. They were catching a late-night flight to Maui to visit Mick for the long weekend, and what Stevie thought was a small dinner they had planned for her Big 7-0 was actually a surprise party tomorrow evening at Mick's restaurant. He'd been handling texts and calls all day from everyone who was flying in to be at the party, including all of his children, all of Fleetwood Mac, and all of Stevie's solo band. Waddy had been texting the most, worried about the speech he had prepared.

A very young blonde woman in a gray sheath dress and a severe Evita-style bun ducked her head into the room, looking directly at her boss. "Pat, can I see you out here for a moment?"

Kristen's attorney rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt. "Excuse me, gentlemen." She nodded on her way out the door.

"How much you want to bet that's Kristen on the phone with a ridiculous excuse so we can all be made to reschedule?" Lindsey was furious. Anything to cling some more, he thought.

Patricia quickly returned with a piece of white paper in her hand. She sat sternly back at her place at the table and addressed the two men at her side.

"Bob, Lindsey..." She looked down at the paper in her hand and back up at them. "Kristen will not be joining us this afternoon." She listened as both men groaned, Lindsey dropping his head into his hands in frustration. "However...I think this email my assistant just printed out for me will go a long way in explaining why." She handed the paper to Bob, who scanned it with his eyes and smiled.

"For Christ sake, Bob! What?" Lindsey looked at his lawyer wild-eyed. Bob said nothing; he handed Lindsey the paper.

It was a printout of an email sent at 3:17 pm from KB021500@gmail.com. Might want to change that email address, Lindsey thought. His eyes were glued to the paper as he read.

Dear Patricia,

I will not be in attendance today at the meeting with Lindsey and his attorney to discuss the matter of his custody arrangement. Please be advised that my absence is not because I intend to fight any further, but rather, the opposite.

Last night, I had the privilege of a rather lengthy conversation with my husband's new fiancé, Stevie Nicks. (Don't know the protocol; maybe I should have called her Stephanie to be legal?) We spoke for over an hour on the phone, and Stevie really helped to enlighten me on a few things I had been in the dark about, as well as a few things I had already known but filed away in my mind without processing. Needless to say, it prompted this email.

Lindsey's petition for visitation with our only remaining minor child, Stella Buckingham, as well as any involvement with our adult children, William and LeeLee, will be honored by me. I hereby put into writing, however unofficially, my agreement to his terms. Likewise, I will not be proceeding with the additional financial matter he and I have previously discussed.

Thank you for your continued understanding and attention to this matter. I will be in touch with you/your assistant, Paige, after the holiday weekend.

Best wishes,
Kristen Buckingham

Lindsey sat silently for a moment, spellbound. He finally looked at Bob, who said, "Go home, Lindsey. We'll iron it all out on Tuesday." He winked as he said, "As far as I understand it, you and your fiancé have a plane to catch."

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Santa Monica, California
Friday, May 25, 2018
(4:30 pm)
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"'The way I see it,' he says, 'You just can't win it...Everybody's in it for their own game; you can't please them all...There's always somebody calling you down...' I do my best and I do good business...There's a lot of people asking for my time; they're trying to get ahead...they're trying to be a good friend of mine..."

Stevie was folding clothes and packing them in a large back Tumi suitcase that lay open on the bed, Joni Mitchell's Court And Spark blasting from the living room sound system as she sang along to "Free Man In Paris" as she had when she was twenty-six. Lily lay atop a pile of undergarments on the floor, alternately biting on a black bra and rolling around in silks and laces that smelled to her of Mom. She took a sip of her large tumbler of iced tea in between verse and chorus, waiting for the moment Lindsey came through the door and told her what she already knew.

She couldn't wait to hug him.

"I was a free man in Paris; I felt unfettered and alive...Nobody was calling me up for favors, no one's future to decide...You know I'd go back there tomorrow, but for the work I've taken on...stoking the star-maker machine behind the popular songs..."

"Stevie!" Lindsey's voice and the slamming of the door rang out over Joni. She smiled and entered the living room, where he stood visibly stunned. Her response was to twirl her way to him, singing.

"I deal in dreamers and telephone screamers...Lately I wonder what I do it for...if I had my way, I'd walk through those doors and wander down the Champs Elyees, going cafe to cabaret, thinking how I'll feel when I find that very good friend of mine..."

"Stephanie Lynn Nicks, what the hell did you do? Perform an exorcism?" Lindsey was looking at her in awe. She had a sly smile on her face.

"Not quite," she said. "I guess you heard?"

"Heard? She sent her lawyer an email and said she's capitulating...I don't even know what to say about this! When was this infamous phone call? What did you say to her?"

"I told her what I've been wanting to tell her for twenty years," Stevie said, her hands dropping onto his shoulders. "Kiss me, Linds...and then open up a bottle of wine and I'll tell you all about it while I finish packing." She was being deliberately mysterious, but he couldn't resist her offer. He kissed her long and deep and passionately, her arms around his neck, and when they were done, they were both smiling, on their way to giggling.

"Happy almost-birthday, sweet girl," he said. "Whatever you did, you performed a miracle."

"Hardly, sweetheart. I just explained a few things."

Stevie winked at him and turned around towards the bedroom. On her way, she said, "Open the wine, sweetheart. We only have three hours before we leave for Maui."

Lindsey was still dumbfounded, but he did as she asked. He had no idea what she was about to tell him, but he couldn't pour the wine fast enough so she would sit down and explain it to him.

He thought of her surprise birthday party tomorrow, and he almost wished he'd done more. She had given him his family...again.

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