Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

Katy Scarlet O'Hara Butler-Mitchell

"You, you make lovin fun-" my eyebrow twitches, she's flat. Flat, listless, and all together just no good. I'm not sure how much Chris has had to drink today, but it's showing by her performance. The dark circles under her eyes tell me she's been on a coke bender over the weekend. Probably needs the booze to bring herself down to human levels of normal. She's not the only one unfortunately. Mick's hung over, he was two and a half hours late and he hasn't taken his sunglasses off since we started an hour ago. John reeks of scotch and sweat, which makes me think he had another argument with his wife. His puppy dog eyes toward Christine and his lingering glances at her make me think they had a quickie during our fifteen minute break. That and she's got a fresh beard rash on her neck...

Stevie seems distracted, every twenty minutes or so she looks out toward the house. I think she's physically willing herself not to run inside and start mothering Sara. And while our daughter is patient, and sweet and all together happy to indulge her mom's maternal behavior I can tell she's getting a bit sick of being poked, prodded, and plied about her well-being. I'm guilty of it myself. She hasn't had to lift a finger for anything since she left the hospital, she had to gently dissuade me from carrying her up the stairs yesterday when she started dozing off on the couch. She's ten, a big girl. Almost eleven. She can walk.

"Let's-let's take another five guys" Mick's stopped drumming, John's rubbing his eyelids. This tour is killing us, and the rehearsals in our tiny home studio are cramped and hot "Bloody hell...Stevie love do you have anything chilled?" my wife takes the opportunity to rush back to the house eagerly "I've got some Pinot I, you want a beer Linds?" the beads of sweat on my brow remind me that I'm both hot and losing fluids "Yeah, Mick, John you guys want anything?" the mention of alcohol makes Mick cringe and John perk up.

"Oh, Fuck no"

"I'll take a Scotch"

Since my wife only has two hands, and since she's just using their drink order as an excuse to check on Sara I follow Stevie into the house. Fanning herself at our kitchen bar Robin flips the pages of her Italian Vouge studying the contents like a bible. "Where are the kiddos?" without looking up she points toward the living room. Looney Tunes is on, Nova and AJ are captivated. Sara's reading through another massive novel, Bleak House. Victorian England, spontaneous combustion, alcohol-perfect reading material for a fifth grader.

"Boys scoot back from the television" as soon as they hear my voice the both take two giant scoots back without ever turning from the cartoon characters on the screen. Stevie places her hand on Sara's head smoothing her hair away from her eyes "You need anything sweetheart?" looking up she smiles shaking her head "Uh uh, I'm okay" for whatever reason I repeat the action feeling her for some elusive fever the same way Stevie did "You sure baby girl? You want some chocolate milk? Or a popsicle?" she shakes her head again "No thank you"

AJ grabs Stevie's hand "I want popsicle momma" Stevie snatches him off the ground lifting him above her head. Laughing he clings to his mother's neck "What flavor little man?" my youngest bites his upper lip thinking "Um...cherry" I've just filled a scotch tumbler with ice for John so I take the popsicles out "Nova you want one?" leaning back Nova nods "Yes, Blueberry please" some of Sara is rubbing off on him. He seems much more polite since she got out of the hospital, more mature. Or maybe it's the absence of Jeff.

"God, how did the weather change so fast? Wasn't it just winter?" seems like it. But we are back in California. Headed to Europe after rescheduling about a dozen dates due to Sara's illness, the record company isn't pleased. Nor are our promoters, but they can kiss my ass. My daughter is more important to me than saving Mick's ass and making rich people richer. I can take comfort in the fact that if I lost all this shit tomorrow I'd still have my children, and Stevie. My family. The one thing that truly matters to me.