Christine barely had time to get out of the way before Lindsey stormed by, cheeks flushed, shoulders tense, and eyes unseeing, without so much as a nod to acknowledge her presence. While his frustration wasn't an unfamiliar sight, she knew he must have been quite angry not to see her at all. She'd only seen him like that a few times—the way he'd just explode, forgetting a situation entirely but for his eyes narrowing in on the unfortunate object of his temper. Unsurprisingly, it was almost always due to a certain woman of their mutual acquaintance. Which could only mean...
Christine smiled and hastened her pace, knowing her dear friend was waiting just beyond the door.
Bloody-
While Stevie was in the room, she wasn't furiously scribbling in her journal as Christine had expected. No, she was holding a bloody handkerchief to a stranger's nose.
"No goddamn ice in this entire fucking-"
"Do I want to know?"
"Chris!" Stevie cried in relief, dropping the dirtied cloth into the man's hands as she flew into her Christine's arms.
"Thank god you're here."
Her hug was brief, pulling away to grasp Christine's shoulders with a grin.
"Stevie!" The short man groaned. Looking over the top of Stevie's head, she eyed the man, slowly recognizing the familiarity of his dark circles, the shaggy hair...
Oh dear.
"Stevie, that isn't-" she muttered into her ear, the uncertainty in her voice unable to conceal her chastising tone.
"I know, I know, it's bad." Christine looked back at Jimmy Iovine's bloodied face. Clearly.
"Lindsey's doing, I take it?"
"What do you think?"
"Stevie!" He called again, pained.
Stevie rolled her eyes.
"I know, Jimmy, hold on a minute."
The shorter woman met her gaze with a severe pout.
"You are never leaving me here alone with them again." The statement was meant to be playful, but her pleading tone suggested otherwise.
"Darling-" Christine's laugh was incredulous and sympathetic.
With a last desperate glance, Stevie returned to her boyfriend's side and gently led him from the room. Silence followed as the door fell shut behind them.
"He deserved it, the bloody wanker," muttered John.
Always honest and concise, her husband.
"Hello Chrissy. Did you enjoy your little rendezvous in Paris?" greeted Mick pleasantly, referencing her small trip to spend the weekend with Dennis.
Clearly she'd missed quite a bit in her few days at the Cinq.
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Stevie was going to scream.
"-can't believe it. I was just trying to help out and he fucking attacked me-"
Her unwelcome guest complained, soft pieces of tissue tucked up his nose to staunch the blood flow.
Stevie leaned against the delicate wallpaper with a sigh, nose upturned as she caught sight of the dirtied shoes still on his feet as he sprawled across her silken bedspread.
"I mean, come on—how could you have possibly dated this guy? He's insane."
His words crawled over her skin. While Stevie was more than willing to curse Lindsey Buckingham from here to tomorrow, she couldn't resist the urge to defend him against this man who knew absolutely nothing about him. He'd never met the man who had patiently taught her chords on her grandfather's old guitar, nothing but gentle and sweet as her atrocious imitation of his fluid playing rang in their ears. He'd never known her Lindsey.
"What did you do?"
"Seriously he needs to- what?"
"Was it something you said?" Her words, initially direct and unemotional, gained inflection, becoming quick and accusatory.
"Because I know Lindsey better than anyone. He'll stomp around, scream and shout, sure. But he doesn't just hit people for no reason. So what was it?"
Jimmy paused, mouth wide open, as he sat up to make sense of her remarks.
"Are you kidding? The guy just punched me in the face and you're asking what I did?"
"I'm just asking-" She moved about the room as he followed her with incredulous eyes.
"-what happened is he's a psychopath- " He stood, words coming faster, angrier, fiercer.
"Oh, just shut up!" She screamed. He stared at her, wide eyed. He'd witnessed her irritation, frustration and even small bouts of anger. But this- he'd never seen her like this before. Taking a breath, she regained her bearings before continuing.
"I asked you to send some tapes, that's it. I- Look, Jimmy, I appreciate what you've done for me, really I do. But this isn't Modern—you don't get to play king here."
Her two worlds were enough to deal with individually, but together like this—it was just too much for her right now. She needed a hit. Badly.
He huffed, standing from the bed.
"Well I'm sorry if, as your boyfriend and the reason you have a solo career, I felt my opinion might matter-"
"Oh please. I know exactly what you were trying to do. You—all of you—think you can own me. But I'm not someone you can rule. So if that's why you're here, you can leave right now."
"He screams in your face, and what? You do exactly what he says? I think we both know who's really king here."
She rolled her eyes.
"He's not just my ex—he's part of this band and we can't make this album without him–"
He continued, undeterred.
"They say things, you know, about the two of you—this strange thing between you," he gestured at her with disgust. "So you can bullshit me all you want about how this isn't working, when honestly, I'd rather not be another guy that's just enough like Lindsey Buckingham to get you off."
Clearly he didn't understand her at all. He was nothing like Lindsey.
"Get out!" She shouted, throwing a pillow at his head, uncaring of his already beaten face. He caught the blue silk, slamming it down on the mattress between them.
"I don't know what's been going on with you, but whatever it is-" She turned away.
He should know. He'd been there when she got the call, their celebration of the album hitting number one suddenly cut short. He'd expressed sympathy of course, but his eyes never dimmed, undaunted in his victory. If he didn't care to remember, then he didn't deserve to know.
"Well then. I guess you never will." She stared calmly out the window, unperturbed by his departure.
"That's just fine. I'll be in LA when you're ready to stop being such a bitch."
She ignored him.
Compared to what she was facing, this loss was nothing.
