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January 29, 2018

Walking into Lindsey's house she tightens her black and white sweater around her shoulders and stops to stare at her reflection in the mirror in the hall. She pulls up her black tank top and messes with her waves which she stuck up in a bun before she hears something hit a wall. 

"Dad," She calls making her way through the lower level of the house. 

She had started calling him dad after Musicares, simply because he was her dad and Pamela hadn't married anyone. 

"Daddy, I brought coffee." She tries. She hears something else crash and break and she follows the sounds up the stairs. She can see the glass in the hallway upstairs and she peeps into the room that it's trailing too. The walls were covered in platinum and gold records, along with several guitars she had never seen in the studio, even the studio was littered with his guitars. She ducks out of the way as a picture comes flying in her direction. It smashes against the doorframe and lands at her feet and she can barely make out an old picture of Fleetwood Mac. 

"Kendall. I'm sorry, did I hit you?" He asks frantically.

"No...but do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks pulling his thing of Starbucks coffee out of the tray and hands it to him.

"Let's go downstairs." He nods out into the hall. 

When they're sitting on his black leather couch she sits in a pretzel-like way and perches her Soy Vanilla Latte on her knee, and starts picking at the loose thread at the edge of the rip. 

"Irving Azoff just called me and said that, well your mother...gave them an ultimatum. I had to go or she was going to go. She doesn't want to work with me anymore. I was fired from Fleetwood Mac." He says shakily. 

"Oh, daddy..." She sighs. 

"I don't know what I'm going to do." He shakes his head.

"Well, work with me...I'm going to need a lead guitar player and I'd like to...I don't know, make up for the nineteen years that was taken from you." She shrugs.

"You'd really let an old geezer like me be your lead guitarist?" He asks.

"Sure...and you could still do your own thing. If I play festivals or something this summer that's fine you can join me, if you can't Craig can...we'll make it work. You could put out a solo anthology." Kendall shrugs. 

"I appreciate it kiddo." Lindsey smiles wrapping his arms around her. 

"Alright, are you okay to work or should I just sit here and keep you company?" Kendall questions.

"Just sit here and keep me company." Lindsey holds her to his body. 

***

At some point, Lindsey and Kendall fell asleep on the couch. Kendall jolted awake to a gunshot or something on the television and when she shifted in Lindsey's arm it woke him up too.

"What time is it?" He asks.

She does a lip twill before pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "It's seven pm." 

"Well, you might as well stay for dinner. I'm going to order a pizza. Any preference?" He questions.

"Hawaiian," Kendall states returning some texts from Craig. 

"Oh, you are so my kid." He smirks going over to the phone and dialing for delivery. 

As they were eating the pizza, Kendall cleared her throat. " I think we should write." 

"What do you mean, write?" Lindsey questions. 

"You're angry...I know because I was almost taken out by a flying Fleetwood Mac picture. Write a song about what exactly it is you're feeling right now. But it's not even that, I also think you're harboring a little resentment for something else...like your divorce?" Kendall questions.

"My divorce was my fault..." Lindsey trails off.

"No, I think it was my fault." Kendall shakes her head.

"Yeah, but you couldn't control that...when your mom found out she was pregnant it was right at the beginning of the Fleetwood Mac tour, and she was so sick...She'd have to get like IVs for fluids. The doctors didn't think you were going to make it because she was 49 and she had kind of butchered her uterus after having four abortions. They did a scan and they said they were surprised we were even able to conceive because of how scarred her uterus was and how traumatized her cervix was...but when she got passed the miscarriage time span, she had this continual smile. When you'd move around or kick her she'd give the biggest spaced out grin and if someone was directly next to her she'd take their hand and place it on her stomach. Mostly mine...sometimes a member of Fleetwood Mac. Just depended on who she was around. When we found out you were a girl she was thrilled. Your nursery if I'm correct is still up in her Santa Monica Mansion. Rose pink walls, white furniture...The cribsheet were pink and white polka dots. Your mother had crocheted you a pink baby blanket There were dark pink chiffon curtains. You were born at two in the morning, and we were stupid...so stupid to let you sleep in the nursery. They were going to let you sleep in our room but we said no. We didn't want special treatment and we wanted to follow hospital protocol. We woke up to like sirens and a code pink being said through the speakers. We had no idea what was going on but the next morning a nursery nurse came in and told us you were gone and your mother was so upset. We were released from the hospital when your mother was cleared and we went home without a baby. We involved the police but they weren't finding anything and then your mother fell into Postpartum depression. She just wanted her baby. We grieved together for maybe a year and a half. I had learned to live with it, she just wasn't. I started turning to other things. Alcohol, sex with the young girls that I was producing. When she found out, that was it...we were done for the third time." He explains. 

***

Three hours later, Kendall was in the booth was her dad singing harmony on a song that she had wrote just from hearing that story. 

I was drivin' to town and I passed by a house
The one with pillars on the porch
Had a sign on the door, said "For Sale"
So what the hell
I walked in, and sat down on some strangers couch
Solid oak hardwood floors
Didn't need to see more
'Cause I could hear you in the kitchen
Playin' your guitar
All our friends coming over
Little lights in the yard

And dammit
Didn't we almost have it?
Honestly, I still don't understand it
We used to love to sit and talk and wish
And picture and plan it
Man, now I just... dammit

I think the owners could tell
I was lost in myself
So they left me alone
Said "Make yourself right at home"
I was already makin' dinner
Callin' you down the stairs
Little girl out the window
Hear her laughin' out there

Dammit
Didn't we almost have it?
Honestly, I still don't understand it
We used to love to sit and talk and wish
And picture and plan it
Man now, I just... dammit
Baby, didn't we almost have it?
Honestly, I still don't understand it
We used to love to sit, talk and wish
And picture and plan it
Man, now I just... dammit

Now I'm drivin' away
Thinking "Oh, what a shame"
You can pray, you can hope
But you just never know
I guess that two bedroom picket fence magic
Can't ever be ours now, can it?
(Dammit)

Ooh
Honestly, I still don't understand it
Thinking how could we, coulda had it
We coulda had it
Dammit


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