Lindsey wasn't home when I got here tonight, which was highly unusual. He had been overly attentive to me the last few days, likely sensing my guilt. He had told me a million times that it was unwarranted, that we agreed that we were in this together and he wasn't going to just take a job without me. But I still felt... well I feel as if I'm holding him back. Never had I received such a genuine gesture- he really did care for me enough to wait for another opportunity. He believes in us so much that he would risk not jumping at this opportunity.
Richard was out too, likely with Lindsey, and it was a rare moment that I had the apartment to myself. I sat back on the couch and put my feet up, taking a large sip of the drink I'd poured. I lit a few candles and journaled a bit, just enjoying some 'me' time. Our ringing phone pulled me from my thoughts, and I moseyed over to pick it up.
"Hello?"
"Erm, yes, may I speak with Lindsey Buckingham please," the thick British accent oozed through the phone.
"He's not home. Could I tell him who called?"
"Well my name's Mick. Mick Fleetwood. He'll remember me from the studio the other day," the man had a booming laugh. Though we had never met he was so friendly to me over the phone. "I was calling to see if he would reconsider. We're desperate for a guitarist with his talent and we've talked it over an we're willing to give him a signing bonus of sorts, if you will," he laughed. "That man's a hard sell. But maybe a little extra cash right now could persuade him? RIght, anyway, I've been trying to get ahold of him but he hasn't been returning some of my calls."
"I'll give him the message," I told Mick, jotting down his number and returning to curl up on the couch.
Could I do this? Could I sit by and watch this happen? I mean, would it really be so bad if Lindsey just took the job? Even if it was only temporarily. We could still work on our Buckingham Nicks follow up album, but he could lay down a couple tracks for the band and make some decent money to continue to work on our career as a duo. We were running out of options. The studio was quickly losing interest and I wasn't even making ends meet working two jobs.
I know we love each other. I know one day we will have a career in this together. But for now, it seems like there is a glaringly obvious answer to what the next move is.
Before I could get to worked up on my own the guys returned home, Richard crashing on the couch while Lindsey and I retreated to our mattress the floor.
Lindsey rummaged around our room, putting his guitar on a stand and organizing some of his things as I sat cross-legged on the bed and watched him. His belongings were quickly tidied and he began to undress for bed.
"Mick Fleetwood called today," I told him timidly, testing the waters.
"Oh yeah?" He turned to glance at me and continued to undress, unfazed.
"Yeah. Lindsey, they're eager to get you on board. They're offering you more money. You need to think about it."
He furrowed his brow, standing above me, clicking on the lamp and turning off the overhead light. I saw him shrug his shoulders a bit and mutter something I couldn't make out under his breath.
I knew it was now or never. I'd been coaching myself to say the words for several days, and as soon as I looked him in the eyes the fear of the situation would bury me and I'd lose my nerve.
"Take it." I looked at my lap and bit my lip so hard I thought it was close to bleeding. I refused to cry. I refused to take this from him, or to make him feel any guilt about his opportunity. He'd earned it. I'd never want to be the one that held him back. I knew keeping him from his dream wouldn't do anything good for our relationship- personally or professionally.
He was silent, moving to sit next to me on the bed.
"What?" He was clearly stunned.
I looked away a bit, my curls falling forward and covering my face. I was thankful for the sudden privacy, I needed to quickly compose myself.
"I said you need to take it," I repeated breathlessly, turning to look even further in the other direction. I couldn't face him. I was becoming overwhelmed.
"Don't hide your eyes from me that way, baby." His voice was so soft, so soothing.
I sniffed once, trying to compose myself but he had already moved in front of me, tilting his head down to make eye contact with me. I'd lost the battle when he gave me a concerned look, pulling me onto his lap and wrapping me into his arms and holding me like a child. Easy came the tears.
"What's wrong," he questioned. "Why would you say that? Did I do something to make you mad? Did I do something to make you think I've given up on us? Because I haven't, babe, you have to believe me."
"I know. And I believe in us too, Lindsey, but something has to give. You can't just pass on your chance at this because you're holding out for something with me. I can't let you do that. I won't let you do that."
I looked into his eyes and I could tell that he wanted so much more for me. I knew in his heart he wished me stardom. "You have the talent, Stevie. There are so very few stars left. I know you can be one of them."
"Linds, this doesn't have to be the end of us. It's been a hard journey for you. Maybe this is the doorway at the end of your path, maybe its been waiting for you- It'll offer you a whole new world of opportunity. Maybe there will even be an opportunity for us on down the road. I want this for you. I want it for you so badly. You've earned it," I lay my head on his shoulder and he pulled me closer, almost as if this encouragement was the most terrifying thing I could have said to him.
"I will always love you, Lindsey," I told him. He kissed me passionately in return, matching my sentiment nonverbally. We lay wrapped in each others arms in a comfortable silence for what must have been hours.
By the time we fell asleep that night it was settled. He was taking it.
