Hold The Line

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***A/N sexual content***


"Mommy's on TV! Mommy's on TV!" tabloid television, God help us if this catches on. Stevie had another great show, a sold out crowd in Dallas. I've only seen snippets of her performance but I'm giddy to see the full thing. She looks different without us, sounds different and I can tell she's having the time of her life. In another lifetime I'd be pretty upset that I wasn't with her on stage, but I've come to terms with my faults as a man. Seeing her now wrapped in a snow white cape with six inch white pumps and pyrotechnics is surreal beyond belief. None of our shows have stuff like that, we're an old hippie band from SoCal by way of Surrey, we're lucky if we can get John to wear something other than jean shorts and a tank top.

"Daddy how come you're not playing guitar with mommy?" Nova with his husky build and sandy blonde hair tumbles into my lap. He's going to be a big kid, he's already a bruiser the biggest kid in his grade "Mommy has two bands she plays with, I'm not in that one" looking up from her sketches Sara places her pencil to her nose "How come?" well that's a long complicated story that almost cost us our marriage, but it's a bit much for my kids to hear so young "Because I don't know those songs, just the ones we work on together"

"Well can't you learn to play them?" Sara again, she's got Stevie's penetrating gaze and my stubborn streak. But her inquisitive nature is all her own, "I could" balling up his fist Nova hits my shoulder as hard as he can, he's been boxing with Jeff again "No hitting Nova" pouting he sits back against me folding his bare feet under his bottom. In a world of his own AJ stares longingly at his mother on screen, he misses her more than I do.

The couch cushions jingle beside me, Ginny shakes herself awake stretching slowly. She's getting up there in years, eleven. Almost twelve, technically our oldest kid. Other than sleeping twelve hours a day though she doesn't show too many signs of age, that's good and bad I suppose. I dread the day when she finally does pass, Sara will be heartbroken. Ginny's her best friend, she spends seven nights a week asleep at the foot of my daughter's bed. Making a tight circle by my leg she plops back down sighing and laying her head on my knee.

The phone beside me rings once then twice, reaching across Ginny and AJ I grab the receiver "Hello?" before I hear the voice on the other end I already know who it is. Stevie. She calls every night at the same time seven o'clock our time. "Hi honey" I can hear the smile in her voice, it's twin creeping across my face "Hi yourself, how did it go tonight?" on screen the story switches over to a shooting in east LA. Before they can show the pictures I change it to the Muppets "Great, the only thing missing was you and the kids"

"The news had a story about your concert tour, apparently people waited outside for a day and a half for you last performance"

"Well when I was younger I would have done the same for Joni Mitchell"

"I have a sneaking suspicion you still would" she laughs, her low husky laugh. The one she gets when she drinks whisky or brandy before a show, or when her voice is tired just afterwards "Maybe for Lindsey Buckingham, but not Joni Mitchell"

"I miss you"

"I miss you too baby" and I do miss her. I hate sleeping alone and waking up alone. I miss other things too-worldly things. Marital things...it's been almost six months since the last time we made love. It's been about six weeks since she left on tour. The departure coinciding, with no small amount of irony, with my emotional and mental resolution to thrust myself back into my marriage 110%. Which up until her album and her run in with Petty included regular sex.

"It's only a few more weeks Linds. I already got tickets for you and the kids to my final show, the one for HBO." Ah yes at the Wilshire in LA. That's a pretty big deal, it's a testament to how big she is right now as an artist. It's also a bitter pill for the others to swallow in its entirety. They wish her all the best, but on the whole there's a general feeling that she's putting her career first and Fleetwood Mac second. And as usual the blame for that rests squarely on my shoulders; for whatever reason.

Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz SeriesWhere stories live. Discover now