I Hate You, Don't Leave Me (D.L)

Secret Partier

As they entered, their platform boots tapping in unison, everyone turned around to greet them. Everyone’s welcome was warm, except Lindsey’s. He glared at Stevie and completely ignored Demi; he was obviously still sore from the humiliation she’d put him through. “Hey Chris.” Stevie called out to Christine, who grinned at them from behind her piano. “Hi. Nice to see you back here, Demetria.” Christine said, handing Stevie and Demi some drinks. “Chris, she prefers Demi.” Stevie said, before taking a gulp of her drink. Christine nodded. “Demi: I like it.” Demi smiled, looking into the cup she had been handed. “Vodka tonic. Christine’s favourite.” Stevie explained. Demi nodded and took a sip. “How do you like it?” Christine asked. “It’s okay. I’m not really a drinker.” Seeing the looks of confusion on their faces, Demi thought it best to explain. “I only drink when I party…” “And don’t we know that you party.” Demi watched as Mick Fleetwood joined them from behind his drum set. “Your grandfather used to tell us all about you.” Mick explained. “Yea. He would come in here, while we were recording our previous albums with Stevie and Lindsey, and would tell us all about the trouble you were getting into at school.” John soon joined them, his bass still attached to him by its strap. “Yea. From what we hear, you can party just as hard as we can.” Demi blushed, taking another drink of her vodka tonic. “Guys, can we please do some fucking work today?” Lindsey’s voice echoed through the room on the overhead speakers. The other members of Fleetwood Mac sighed, waving goodbye to Demi as she made her way back to the control room. Ignoring Lindsey, she made a beeline to where J.C. was sitting. “Hi. Why isn’t he joining them?” She asked, sitting next to him. “Hello love. Mr B has already done all his songs at home. He’s acting as producer for everyone else before he lets them touch his precious material.” Demi nodded, secretly thinking that Lindsey was just full of himself and probably didn’t know what he was really doing. However, as his pre-recorded guitar parts played overhead and the rest of the band began to play, Demi was surprised to see that Lindsey knew exactly what he was doing.

After a few hours, Demi’s eyes were still fixed on Lindsey as he worked furiously at the mixing desk. “Here you go, love.” Demi looked, greeting John with a smiled. “Thanks.” She said, taking the drink from him. It had only been a few hours, but Demi was well aware that she had had quite a bit to drink. ‘Perhaps they’re trying to get me drunk’ Demi thought to herself. Despite her suspicions, Demi started to drink the drink anyway. J.C. had left the studio to attend some business meetings and Demi hadn’t seen Carol anywhere. Though, even if she had been there, Demi doubted that Carol would want to talk to her. She clearly worshipped Lindsey and Demi had just cracked his God-like barrier. Demi felt that she and Carol wouldn’t ever really be friends. Not if Demi absolutely loathed her boyfriend. Though she could be wrong.

By this point, Demi and Lindsey were alone in the control room. It was awkward, even with the distraction of the band playing only metres away. Lindsey snuck a glance at Demi, who gazed off into the distance, in her own little world. Lindsey watched her for a few seconds. Even silently to himself, he hated to admit that Demi was possibly the most exquisite looking woman he’d ever laid eyes on. When she had stood up to him just days previously, the wounds of which were still healing, her eyes burned into his inner core. No one had ever humiliated him like that. But, in a twisted sort of way, he liked being put in his place by this young woman who knew nothing about the business she was getting into. Though she couldn’t help that, and Lindsey knew it. He and Stevie had met Demi’s grandfather when they were still together and looking for a record contract. He’d been a friend of theirs since the beginning and was devastated when their relationship ended. Both he and Stevie had heard endless stories from Oliver about his ‘little Demetria’. Though they didn’t know the full story, they both knew that Oliver had basically raised his granddaughter. And they admired him for that. When they had heard he had died, they didn’t quarrel at all and simple cried together for a week. As Lindsey watched, with fascination, this young woman who he had spent years hearing about, he felt he ought to ask her the question that she was probably sick of hearing. “Alright, take a five minute break. But stay in the studio! No skipping off anywhere!” He turned the microphone off and turned to face Demi. Taking a deep breath, and ignoring the eyes of his nosy bandmates, he broke the silent atmosphere that had gathered in the control room between them.