Is a Dream Just a Dream?

Bleed to Love Her

****A/N smut ahead****

March 1996

It's a rainy day the clouds hazy as I lean against the window of my apartment downtown. My house is on the market and I'm not sure exactly where or when I'll buy another. Houses are for families, kids, wives. Apartments are for bachelors...which is what I am I suppose. I've got a date with that Kristen chick again, maybe I should skip. She's not exactly my type...pretty though. I mean really gorgeous. But twenty years younger, we don't have much in common.

The ash on my third joint of the day drops out of the widow and onto my balcony, I really should give this shit up. I'm not twenty anymore, it's rather childish...after this last one. My heart startles the phone ringing nearby. Get a grip Buckingham it's just a phone, coughing I lift the receiver to my ear "Hello?" smoke down the wrong tube, I cough some more "It's eleven-thirty don't tell me you're already baked". I can't help myself my face twists into a an excited smile. It's Stevie. I haven't heard from her in six months, it's so good to hear her voice.

"Well he good looking, what's cooking?" her voice is low and raspy warm with humor and familiarity "Not much Buck, just sitting hear listening to one of my favorite guitarists. This guy named Lindsey Buckingham...you know him?" I tap my joint loosening the ash off the end as I take a drag..." Let's see, he's got blue eyes, chestnut hair, a killer bod, and he's apparently number 100 on Rolling Stone's list of greatest guitarists of all time." I chuckle, I should have scored higher in my opinion but whatever...

"Sounds like a real arrogant ass to me" I say, stubbing out the last of my joint. I hear something shuffling on her end, and picture her in her massive four poster bed surrounded by her lap dogs and pillows "Well, I hear he can be...but I think he's mellowed out." I certainly have tried, I don't piss people off as much as I used to. And I'm easier to work with, I'm also a borderline alcoholic and I smoke way too much grass.

"So what song are you listening too?" she puts the phone up to her stereo and I hear the last lines of "Go Insane" playing.... ah my early stuff. The stuff that sold. "One of my favs actually" leaning against the window frame I dig around in my pocket for another of my joints, I think better of it and put it back "I didn't know you had my albums" she pauses turning the volume down "Of course. I've always said you make beautiful music Linds" So do you. Is what I should say, but I don't stubbornly holding on to our old rivalry and my jealously.

"We make beautiful music together. Especially two-part harmonies" she laughs, and my body tingles as I use our code word from the 60's for our clandestine meetings away from the rest of the guys in Fritz. "Why don't you meet me for coffee?" fiddling with the latch on the window I stare outside at the traffic below. Coffee could be good. Could be great actually, I'm more interested in her than the coffee but I'll use any excuse to get next to her.

We've been through three decades of fighting, fucking, breaking up, making up, getting wasted, and stoned. We know each other's faults, each other's strengths we fit musically. But are forever torn apart by our conflicting personalities. Is it considered hell on earth to have a soulmate who you can never truly be with. I think it should be.

"Coffee sounds great, I'll meet you at Java' Joes in an hour?" she confirms and hangs up, I'm nervous and I smell like bud. Taking a quick shower, I change into black button down and some jeans. My boots and a leather jacket completing the ensemble. The Mercedes purrs down the highway and I make it to our destination with five minutes to spare.

She's not there when I walk in so I find us a table in the back where we won't be bothered. The Barista takes my order and I glance anxiously out of the window looking for Stevie's car and driver to arrive. She hasn't driven since the seventies her vision is terrible and she always preferred to let me drive when we were together.