Stevie was sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, huge sunglasses covering her face. She was taking shelter beneath a large umbrella, slightly hungover from her late night out with Lori. She would be back on the road with Fleetwood Mac in two days, and she was trying to enjoy the calm of being with her family before she was thrust back into the world of whatever the hell Mick wanted them to do. Right now it was tour for nearly two years, and she was ready to strangle him if he suggested anything past the agreed upon end date again. She'd been too nice last time and said she wouldn't mind another American leg, and it nearly killed her. She'd gotten so sick she'd had to be on bed rest for months after they returned home, and even now she could feel her voice starting to go after back to back shows.
"Oh, God," She says, sitting up, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head and looking at Lori.
"What?" Lori asks, following Stevie's gaze towards the back patio,. and she bursts into laughter. "Oh, Christ."
"I swear, it's like watching a baby deer try to walk," Stevie giggles, watching her brother fumble with the propane tank. "I'm surprised he hasn't blown up the house yet."
"Don't even joke about that," Lori snorts, swatting Stevie's leg.
"Every goddamn year," She laughs, rolling her eyes. She clears her throat, lowering her voice to imitate her brother. "Dad, I swear, I know what I'm doing."
Lori doubles over, drawing Barbara's attention.
"You better not be making fun of your brother," She scolds, sitting on the edge of Stevie's chair.
"Mom, he can't even cook a hot dog," Stevie deadpans, making Lori laugh harder. Barbara stifles her smirk behind her glass of iced tea.
The girls settle in to watch the scene unfold. Jess, running out of patience quickly as he has to remind his son for the millionth time how to even turn the damn grill on, Chris being cocky and shooing him away.
"Dad has backup stuff in the fridge, right?" Stevie asks, sipping her iced tea, legs crossed as she watches.
"I don't think he had time to get anything else this year. Usually he sneaks out and stuffs it in the fridge in the garage, but he had a lot of work to do yesterday," Barbara says, pursing her lips as Jess throws his hands out in frustration, grumbling to himself as he plops down on the patio couch.
"Oh, poor Jess," Lori giggles, watching Christopher finally get the grill started up. He shoots a smug look over at them, waltzing into the house to get the meat.
"Don't worry, I made enough sides," Barbara says, twisting a strand of Stevie's hair around her finger, tugging lightly on her ponytail.
"Good, we're gonna need them," Stevie giggles, elbowing Lori in the side.
"I see it," She chuckles, shaking her head as they watch Christopher start laying burgers and hotdogs on the grill. "Oh, no."
"I count three mistakes so far," Stevie says, watching Chris close the grill lid.
"He didn't set a timer, did he?" Barbara asks, sighing. Both women shake their heads, Stevie reaching for the magazine she'd tossed aside earlier.
"Let me know when the fire starts," She says, thumbing through the glossy pages and settling her sunglasses back over her face.
She's roused from her nap by Lori shoving her shoulder. She sits up immediately, unable to control the laugh that bursts from her mouth when she sees her father pulling burnt burgers and hot dogs off the grill with the tongs. She can't tell exactly what happened, but she laughs when her dad holds up a particularly charred hot dog, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head as he examines it.
"Oh, I missed it," She pouts.
"Your dad just kind of walked over and opened the lid and started pulling things off," Lori supplies. Stevie spots Christopher skulking on the patio chair, staring deeply into his beer bottle.
"We really need to start making food that he can't ruin," Stevie says, tossing her silk kimono over her bathing suit, grabbing her empty glass.
"Good job," She says, patting Chris on the shoulder. He turns and smacks her in the shoulder, making her scream.
"Jesus fucking Christ! What is your problem?"
"What's your problem?" He growls.
"I'm not the one who ruined dinner!"
"Stevie, I swear to God-"
"Enough, enough," Jess says, stepping between them. "It's not your brother's fault he can't cook."
"Dad!" Chris complains. Stevie laughs, and Chris reaches around Jess to slap her again.
"Stop hitting your sister," Barbara says, breezing past them into the house. Stevie smacks his hand, following Barbara into the house.
"He's so sensitive," She says, grabbing the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge to refill her glass.
"Stevie, please," Barbara laughs. She shoots her mother a look, rolling her eyes.
"Well, at least I can cook."
"Be nice."
Stevie grumbles, heading outside again. Maybe Mick's bullshit is better than never having a decent meal on Fourth of July.
