1997
It's Monday, and I've run out of clean clothes to wear at Stevie's so I reluctantly make my way back home. Denny and Stevie are having a day out together with Karen and I'm going to meet them later for dinner downtown. I find myself smiling more than I can remember in decades perhaps, knowing that I have not just one but two people I love and who love me to spend my time with has lifted a haze of depression from my life I never knew existed until it was gone. I also need to grab some legal papers and a few guitars to work on some music at Stevie's. I'm essentially hiding from Kristen, and while in exile I'd like to have a few necessitates.
When I arrive at my door step I find a horrific site in my driveway, immediately I feel like peeling out and heading back to Stevie's. A bright red news van, and a camera crew setting up. Holy shit I need to back out right "Lindsey! Oh pookie I've been looking all over for you! Did you finish your meeting with Mick?" meeting with Mick. Mick's in the Pacific fishing with his wife and kids "Erm...yeah sure" a reporter in a loud green dress with purple nails and bee hive hair slinks around the van beaming at me with her artificially white teeth.
"Vivian Vickers, Hollywood News. So glad you two agreed to a sit-down interview for our viewers" oh God, I don't remember agreeing to this. Kristen, she's the publicity hound I hate reporters and interviews, and the whole media business. I reluctantly give press for my solo tours and Fleetwood Mac, I'm not interested in having my personal life analyzed. For obvious reasons "Pookie, you need to shave. Unless you plan to grow that sexy beard back mmhmm" cringing I move away from Kristen's questing paws. Her nails dig into my cheeks as she inspects my stubble.
"Yeah, well I must have forgot can't we do this another time?" my intended glares at me her teeth grit like a ravenous Savanah predator "No, we can't. Go change honeybunch" normally I'd tell her off, but with things the way they are with Denny and Mina I can't sacrifice my limited goodwill in the public's eyes by being a dick to my fiancé in front of cameras. Without a word I walk past my studio and into the house grumbling my way upstairs to the master bedroom. Inside I dig through my dressers packing another, larger, bag for later.
To make Kristen happy I shower and change, shaving the small amount of stubble I've grown while at Stevie's. I grin to myself thinking about tickling the inside of Stevie's creamy thighs this morning kissing my way up her body and nuzzling the same stubble against her soft skin. She's laughing more these days too, and smiling, reminding me once more of the woman I fell in love with decades ago. Hopefully I'm starting to resemble the goofy loner she fell in love with too.
Careful to leave my bag near the bed I head down to the lounge pouring a quick shot of bourbon at the bar before joining Kristen on the couch. Smiling she wraps my arm around her shoulders, and I give a stiff grin to the cameras while they snap photos of us "I love it when you're all washed up, you smell good. Very masculine, is it your shower gel?" she hates my aftershave lotion, and my soap. Her words for it are stupid hippie funk "Well Stevie has it made for me by some guy in the village, thank her." as if that will EVER happen.
She gives me a fake giggle digging her nails into my thigh under the guise of readjusting in her seat "You two are just the cutest, is it hard finding common ground with such a pronounced age difference Lindsey?" great the interview has begun "Yeah we really don't have a lot in common" I shoot my bourbon leaving the empty glass beside me. Kristen looks like she might murder me, but smiles through her embarrassment "He's funny, I love his sense of humor most I think". Yeah I'm a fucking laugh riot.
"So after decades of being a committed bachelor what made you think to yourself I have to marry this woman?" shrugging I look down at Kristen and give her a similarly fake smile "Well at first I thought she was pregnant-then that didn't turn out" her face burns red. Vickers raises an eyebrow scribbling furiously as the red dot of the camera focuses on my so-called "Bride to Be". I'm committing social suicide right now, Kristen is bound to be pissed at me after this. But I don't care, Stevie's right we have friends in high places if Kristen wants to run her mouth about a story that's decades older than her from a strung out ex-girlfriend and a police report from the70's bring it on.
