Stevie felt the room swaying slightly and she rested her hands on the marble counter for support, taking a few deep breaths. She could hear the sound of her heart pounding in her ears over the party the other side of the door, the cocktail of drink and drugs in her system clearly doing a number on her.
She'd spent Christmas with her parents and had, to her mind, behaved like a nun. Her mother had watched her like a hawk, counting every drink, and she hadn't dared take any blow with her. The worst she'd done was creep out to the treehouse in the back yard with her brother on Christmas Day night and shared a joint with him.
Having barely had time to get changed after landing back in L.A., she'd arrived at the party on Don's arm and gone ham. Partly making up for lost time; mostly to quell her nerves about seeing Derek and his wife.
She was brought to her senses by a knock on the door.
"Coming." She splashed some water on her face and dabbed it with a towel before gulping another huge breath and unlocking the door.
"Oh - hello." She stared, dumbstruck. "Joan, this is Stevie Nicks, the girl I was telling you about. Fleetwood Mac. Stevie - this is my wife, Joan."
The woman, the same age as Derek, had long brown hair and huge round spectacles through which she peered at Stevie, her hand awkwardly hovering in mid air as she waited for Stevie to take it.
"Hi."
It was all she could choke out as she shook the hand of her lover's wife. It felt like an out of body experience, like none of this was really happening.
"Do you mind if I just -" Joan gestured past her into the bathroom and Stevie stepped aside to allow her in.
"She didn't know where it was," Derek offered by way of explanation, nodding to the bathroom. Stevie didn't respond. He stepped towards her and she recoiled, shaking her head, before turning and walking away.
"Where's Don?" She asked Mick, the easiest person to locate in the sea of guests, and the easiest person to help her look. He turned slowly on the spot, scanning the room.
"No sign love, sorry. Do you want -" but she'd already wandered off. He bitterly regretted ever sending her those prank flowers that started this mess she was in with Henley.
She made her way through the different rooms of the house. Seeing Derek with his wife had had a more sobering effect on her than anything she'd ever tried before. She could still feel the warmth of the woman's hand in her palm. Did she know? Something about the way she'd looked at her...maybe Stevie was imagining it, but she thought she could see a sad resignation in her eyes. She felt sick again.
"Oh, hey!" She almost collided with Carol Ann, a girl who looked so much like her at times she was embarrassed for Lindsey at how obvious it was. She had a wicked glint in her eye. "Looking for Don? He went outside. Thattaway."
Stevie followed her eyeline out through the open French windows to the back of the house. Nodding her thanks, she headed in that direction, only to find an arm around her waist dragging her into a knot of men.
"Here she is! Our little ingenue!" Mo Ostin's sweaty hand was on her hip, hugging him close to her whilst the circle of anonymous men leered at her, shamelessly letting their eyes roam over her body.
"Hello, Mr Ostin." She tried to politely wriggle free but he clung to her.
"Mo! Call me Mo. Randy tells me your cover shoot went great the other week?"
She cast her mind back to what felt like a lifetime ago, a world before Derek had ever touched her.
"Mm-hm."
"Well, we're all very excited about the record." The circle of goons nodded and she realized with a jolt they all stood to benefit from her in some way - she was about to make these people, none of whom she knew, a lot of money. It made her uneasy, but not as much as Ostin's hand, which was now making it's way to her ass. Seizing her chance, she jumped free of his clutches and mumbled an apology - for what? - before virtually running out through the French windows.
She sucked in a breath of cool, fresh air, clear of the cloud of cigar smoke she'd just been standing in. For a moment, she forgot why she had gone outside in the first place, until she caught a movement in the corner of her eye.
Turning toward it, her mouth dropped open as she saw two figures against the side of the house. They were making out, the girl's leg exposed as her skirt was pushed up by the hand between her thighs. She was reminded jarringly of the day she'd found herself in an almost identical position with Derek at the Warner offices. That thought was quickly pushed aside at the realization that the man she was staring at was her boyfriend.
Before she had chance to say anything, the girl opened her eyes and saw her. She squealed and pushed Don off her, who spun round to see Stevie already bolting back into the house.
"Fuck. Stevie! Stevie -"
He followed the path she'd weaved through the party until he found himself outside again, this time at the front of the house. She was sitting on the stone steps, sobbing.
"Stevie."
"Get away from me!"
"Let me explain -"
"I'm going home. Get the fuck away from me, Don!"
"Please!"
She suddenly shot to her feet and stared him down, the rage in her eyes making him take a step back.
"What is there to explain? What happened? You fell and landed with your fingers inside her? I'm done with it all, Don. I know what's been happening. I know you've been fucking your way across America on tour, I know I'm just a back up plan to you."
"That isn't true!"
"Yes it is! Leave me alone, Don. It's over. We're over."
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find any semblance of an excuse. Unable to do so, he pushed past her, back into the house, as her sobs turned into wails.
"My god, whatever's wrong? Hey...hey." She was barely aware through her tears that it was even Derek until he took her into his arms, holding her and stroking her back for as long as it took to settle her down. "I saw you bursting out the door and had to find out what happened, then I saw him follow you -"
"Don't even talk to me about him. He's probably gone straight to that little skank around back. Oh god -"
She began to cry again. He had to take her face in his hands and wipe her tears, her eyeliner streaming down her face.
"Come on now, my beautiful child. Don't pay him a moment's thought."
"Don't you get it? I'm no better! I'm a skank too."
"Stop that right now."
"It's true! I don't even have the right to be mad after what we've done. At least there's no feelings involved with him, it doesn't mean anything. He probably does even know that bitch's name. At least he's not -"
"Don't say it."
"Why?"
"Because you can't take it back! If we say it, it changes everything - it's not just sex anymore."
"It was never just sex for me," she mumbled. The fact he'd said 'we' and not 'you' had made her stomach flip.
"Nor me."
He rested his forehead against hers, not caring or even noticing how ridiculous she looked with two black channels of smeared makeup running down her cheeks. Her bloodshot eyes looked up into his and she swallowed a sob.
"At least he's not in love with her." He sighed and nodded, accepting the reality he'd been refusing to face for weeks now. Her voice dropped lower, to barely above a whisper, as she stroked the hand on her cheek. "I'm so in love with you."
"I'm so deeply, deeply in love with you, Stevie."
