Buckingham Nicks A/U Series Part 2: Dreams

What You Had (Part 1)

Lahaina, Hawaii
Saturday, December 12, 1977
(11:00 pm)
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The only thing more beautiful than the sight of Stevie Nicks dancing, Mick thought, was the sight of Stevie Nicks dancing in a yellow floral Hawaiian dress and a flower in her hair.

Mick Fleetwood sat by himself at a table drinking an impossibly fruity cocktail with three umbrellas sticking out of it, sucking out of a curled straw. He had told only John, his best friend, about the letter from Jenny, not wanting to spoil anyone's holiday. He wouldn't have told John either, except for the fact that he's caught him crying in his dressing room in Honolulu last week while trying unsuccessfully to do lines off of his daughter Amy's Miss Piggy mirror, which had somehow turned up in his luggage.

Watching Stevie wave her bracelet-covered arms in the air to the Hawaiian music and ham it up for the camera crew in front of him was the only thing keeping him from walking out into the Pacific Ocean.

"She's going through with the divorce, but she wants to reserve the right to remarry briefly in name only if we need it to bring the girls into the States."

Mick snorted a generous line of cocaine and held the rolled-up dollar bill to John, who waved it away. Mick shrugged and said, "Suit yourself, mate," before he dove in for more.

"Maybe if you weren't face-down in a pile of blow or ogling somebody else's woman every time Jenny came around..." John had been a father for exactly two months, and he was beginning to understand all the reasons Christine used to get so angry, watching Mick self destruct. John had held his wife's hand in the hospital as their newborn son slept on her lap and promised to do better, to "act like a man," - her words to him during so many fights he barely remembered - and everyone had noticed the change in him. He wished the same happiness for his best friend.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mick said, sniffing hard with his nostrils between his fingers.

"Do you need me to spell it out for you, for fuck sake?" John looked down at Mick, who looked back up at him cluelessly. "Stevie! Jesus Christ, you can't keep your eyes off of her! I'm saying this because I love you, Mick, so listen up very carefully - If Jenny doesn't kick your ass then Lindsey will, and he won't be wrong."

Mick sat back in his chair and looked into his lap. "I love her, Johnny. I'm in love with her. What can I say?"

"Say you'll put that away and focus on what you CAN have," said John. "You're done with Jenny? Fine. Go get a woman you like and enjoy your life! Just do everyone a favor and make sure it's not Lindsey Buckingham's pregnant fiancé who is the lead singer in your band."

Mick recalled his best friend's words to him and he knew he was right. He wished he could explain to him that it wasn't just lust, wasn't just another case of him ogling a pretty girl or electing to place the framed photograph of his wife and daughters face-down on the nightstand of a hotel room so he could engage in a one-night stand. He loved Stevie. Pure and simple. He loved her heart, he loved her mind, he loved her body. He loved the sound of her voice shouting from down a backstage corridor, loved the way her nose crinkled when she laughed at something that was terribly funny, loved watching her get so genuinely excited singing background vocals on "Don't Stop" with her tambourine in her hand that she looked as though she would become airborne in her happiness over the upbeat lyrics. He loved her, and he knew love made a person happy - or at least it was supposed to. The reason he'd been practically drinking himself into a coma for months was because his love wasn't making him happy. It was unrequited, and it was making him miserable.

"Robin Ann Snyder! Get your ass over here!"

Mick looked up at the sound of Stevie's raspy shout of her best friend's name over the music. Stevie stood beside her friend Sara Recor, and she was frantically waving Robin over to join them.