Daisy Jones and the Six One Shots

Daisy Jones is Back

"Maybe I shouldn't be in the fucking band then, anymore, huh?" Daisy prodded. She was slumped against a velvet chair backstage in Tampa. She was high, but had a sudden sense of clarity about her after the words had escaped her lips. She didn't even realize the words were going through her mind until she had said them. 

Silence echoed around her and she wished she could take it back.

They had been in some stupid fight about the reckless way Daisy acted onstage, and Daisy had, as Daisyt was prone to do, said something without thinking.

"Maybe." Billy replied. 

"I'll go pack my shit, then." Daisy said. It was a challenge, but also a plea. Please don't let me leave. 

He understood that. And she knew that he understood it. And he didn't do anything.

He watched Daisy leave with an awful, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

She moved slowly, as if she wanted him to see every little thing she was doing. And then she was gone. 

---

Everything else was a blur. She took a cab, walked into her hotel room. Tears welled up in her eyes as she haphazardly threw every piece of clothing she owned into a suitcase and wheeled it out of the room. 

Downstairs, she took another cab to the airport. She rented a car. She started to go back to LA. She was still driving at 3am, but feeling much more in control than before. As she passed the milemarkers, a thought began to make itself clear in her mind, and it only kept growing: there's nothing for me in LA. Everything that made LA a place that was worth staying was gone. The fame. Simone. Billy. It felt like she wouldn't ever be happy again there. She needed a fresh start, a new place where no one knew her name. Where she could pretend she hadn't just fucked up royally. For the first time in days, she was excited. She could go anywhere she wanted. She was free, in every sense of the word. 

New York was out. She didn't want to have to face Simone, because explaining what she had done to her might be harder than the actual act itself. Eventually, after considering many possiblities, Daisy landed on New Orleans, Louisiana. No one there would care who she was, even if they knew. The humidity was good for her hair. And god, did that city know how to party. A smile formed on her face as the plan formulated itself in her mind. She turned up the radio. 

"That was Sultans of Swing by Dire Straits. Now, let's get a little calmer tonight with 'Chasing the Night' by Daisy Jones and the Six". As soon as she heard the first syllables of "chasing", the channel was switched to some crap country song from the 50s. 

---

A week later, Daisy was settled into her hotel. She had avoided any and all contact about the Six, though she did wonder sometimes if they were continuing the tour. At times, she thought it impossible, there was no tour without her (right?), but then other times she realized she wouldn't put much past Billy Dunne. Daisy was laying on her hotel bed contemplating this when the phone next to her started ringing. She picked it up, thinking it was room service. 

"Hello!" She chimed in the most polite, sober voice she could muster. 

"Daisy. Thank God. What the hell?" It was Simone. Her voice was simultaneously soothing and anxiety inducing. 

"What do you mean 'what the hell'?" Daisy said, shifting her body to its side to face the phone better. 

"I thought you were sick or something and that's why I hadn't heard about your tour in a while. You quit?"

"No, Simone, you don't get it. He wanted me to leave."

"Who? Who wanted you to leave, Daisy?! Billy?"