The Way Back

Loose Ends

She leaned forward, pressing her body halfway onto the wooden bar as music thumped through the speakers of the rented club. The petite brunette made eye contact with the bartender and waved her hand. He smiled and walked to the end of the bar. The bartender's eyes drifted over her, liking what he saw. Her delicate features were gorgeous. The tight black dress she wore hugged in all the right places. "What can I get you?" he asked, staring into her stunning blue eyes.

"Margarita, please," she requested, tossing her long layered brunette locks over her shoulder.

"Are you the birthday girl?"

"That's me," she told him with an easy smile.

"Hey," he leaned over the bar and lowered his voice. "What's it like having St—"

The girl put her hand up, cutting him off quickly. "Can you just make the drink please?" Libba hated that question. What's it like having Stevie Nicks for a mother? It was asked too much when anyone found out who her mother was. To be honest, it was difficult at times and other times it was purely amazing. Her mother garnered a more fervent reaction than her father did. Libba tapped her foot impatiently while resisting the urge to hunt down a cigarette. She had been attempting to quit for a month, but the impending stress of the night made her ache for a smoke. She leaned over, blindly adjusting the ankle strap of her black crushed velvet platform heel. The girl straightened and gasped as an arm snaked over her exposed skin, settling around her waist. She relaxed, seeing who it was. Andrew, her favorite man in the entire world besides her father and grandfather. He had stolen her heart when she was fifteen. She smiled warmly. "You scared me, baby," she whispered to her boyfriend and took the long-awaited drink from the bartender, thanking him.

"I didn't mean to, Lib," he told her, pulling her closer against him and kissing her head as she leaned into his embrace.

She nodded casually, removing the lime slice from the rim of the glass. "Have you seen her?" she inquired, sucking on the lime slice before taking a sip out of the drink and wincing as the tequila burned her throat.

"I saw Sharon, so I know she's close."

"Where was Aunt Sharon?" Libba bit into the lime and wrinkled her nose at the sweet tartness of the fruit.

Andrew shook his head at his girlfriend. He never understood how she managed to eat limes or lemons, but he thought her nose wrinkled in the cutest way possible. "I saw her heading up the stairs."

"Stairs?" Libba asked, raising her brows in confusion.

Andrew laughed softly, running his hand down her back. "Yeah, baby. There's an upstairs area. I think your mom has made that hers for the night."

"Stevie needs her privacy," she retorted sardonically with a shake of her head. The need for privacy was a half-truth. Libba knew her mother needed a space to hide out from her father when he showed his face. "I better go up there. She's not going to come down here," she said, leaning and placing her lips over his until air was needed.

"Lime kisses," he murmured, licking his lips. Andrew pressed his hand against the small of her back, drawing her closer to him as his lips found hers a second time. She broke the kiss with a soft sigh and rested her forehead against his. "I'll be back," she told him, regretfully breaking the hold. Libba meandered through the crowd and accepted birthday wishes as she made her way upstairs.

In the corner of the second floor, Stevie and her girlfriends sat on a plush sofa, drinking and talking quietly. The blonde leaned forward and pulled out a cigarette from the pack, lighting up and nervously puffing. She glanced at her longtime friend and backup singer. "Maybe you should go back down and look."