Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

Sledgehammer

***A/N heavy stuff ahead folks***

October 3rd 1976 (Lindsey's 26th birthday/Stevie and Lindsey's 8th wedding anniversary)

"Forty-five minutes Mr. Buckingham" the last few weeks have been a varitable hell on earth for me. I can't bring myself to ask Stevie about her meeting with Iovine, but I have to know. After my initial anger with Jeff I've cooled off and reached a sort of mental equilibrium about the entire situation. Denial set in then crumbled away in the face of my minds overriding desire to understand what went wrong if anything. I'm blaming myself, obviously, for the entire affair. Apt choice of word. Stevie loves me, she'd never intentionally hurt me...but sometimes it's the harm we do unintentionally that hurts the most.

I'm about to be married, again, to the love of my life. Only this time we're at a beautiful venue on the coast with about a hundred guests from our time with Fritz until today. The first time I stood up in the courthouse and held Stevie's hands in mine I was filled with so much love and optimism for the future I couldn't see beyond the way I felt at that moment. I still have the love, but the optimism is dead. I've come to the glaring and painful conclusion that I hate the music industry. Hate it. all of it, each and every fucking aspect of this God damn business makes me so incipiently angry that I can't form sentences long enough or scathing enough to articulate it. That one comes close though.

It's taken so much away from me at this point it's hard to see any good in it anymore. First it took my ability to have creative control, then it changed how I produce, it almost took my wife and daughter from me, it took away Buckingham Nicks rather Carol Ann too away Buckingham Nicks. And worst of all it forced me into Fleetwood Mac. Which by extension took away all of my control, and now if I'm to believe my alcoholic moron of an older brother it's out to get my marriage. To take Stevie away from me; I wouldn't survive that.

Stevie is my life. Her and Nova, and Sara are all I care about; without them I'd be less than nothing. They rely on me for direction and stability, I rely on them to keep me sane and grounded. If Iovine is trying to pull Stevie away from me to further his career then I need to know. I need to know so I can fucking throw in the towel completely and become a hermit. It's selfish, and it's childish, and it's illogical; but if I can't produce Stevie's music I don't want to work on any fucking music. Her's, mine or ours, and most assuredly not Fleetwood Mac's.

"Mr. Buckingham?" craning my head to the side I acknowledge our long suffering wedding planner. She's worked hard on this day, and I've done my best to step back and let her and Stevie make all the arrangements from start to finish. There's nothing I wouldn't give to Stevie. Nothing she couldn't ask of me. So why the fuck is she having meetings with other producer's behind my back? "Where's my best man" when it came down to picking my best man it wasn't even a close call. Jeff has definitely been a bigger part of my life since I joined Fleetwood Mac and he started seeing Robin, but Greg has always been my rock. The steady and thoughtful Buckingham brother. The one I will, begrudgingly admit, I look up to.

"He's helping your brother Jeffery with something...I think his tie is stained" figures. Jeff's got a hole in his brain and his lip "Daddy can you fix my dress?" my melancholy ceases for the moment, as soon as Sara dashes into my dressing room. Sitting up she turns around so I can align the teeth of her zipper the right way "There you go baby girl" she smiles reaching up to kiss my cheek "Do you wanna see me throw flowers?" our wedding planner blanches waving her arms "Later sweetheart, we only have a limited supply of them" Sara pouts and I shrug. Not my rule, but I know how fastidious Stevie is about her plans. And as much as I love my daughter I know my wife, in her current hormonal state, would probably lose it if we ran out of flowers before the big event.