You're Changing All The Time

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Phoenix, Arizona
Sunday, August 24, 1975
(10:00 am)
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"We have a soundcheck at, like, two o'clock, and then I can get them to let you guys in and we'll look around."

Stevie was sitting up in bed in the white terrycloth robe that had been provided by the hotel, surrounded by half-empty plates of various breakfast foods and holding the phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She was talking to her mother, who, along with her father and brother, would be at the concert tonight at the Celebrity Theater. She hadn't seen her family since Christmas, and she had just informed Christine the night before that she was absolutely certain the sight of them would bring her to tears.

"What's the deal with cameras?" asked Barbara Nicks, who was talking to her daughter on her newly-installed kitchen phone with the cord that was so long she could take the receiver all the way to the pantry. She had taking to using the pantry as a phone booth of sorts lately, especially during those late-night conversations with Stevie the past few months when she'd call her crying late at night from a hotel room, drinking too much for Barbara's taste and explaining how torn she was between making it work with Lindsey and calling it quits.

"What do you mean, Mom? I don't think they're filming us or anything." Stevie found a small piece of bacon on Lindsey's plate and began to chew on it.

"No, no, honey, I want to bring my camera!" said Barbara, laughing. "I want to take pictures of my little girl up there, singing her heart out and looking so beautiful in the middle of the big stage, all eyes on her!" Her laughter died down as she said, "I know I've said this a million times and I'll say it a million more...I am so proud of you, my little Teedee-bird! And you can tell Lindsey to expect a big hug when I see him tonight, same as you, because I'm proud of him too!"

"Thanks, Mom." Stevie was absent-mindedly winding the phone cord in her fingers, chewing her bacon. "He's downstairs now, talking to J.C. about some kind of transportation issue. We have to be in Tucson tomorrow and there's an airline issue. Mick's losing his marbles about it."

"Well hell, Stevie, you all can drive to Tucson!" said Barbara. "A little spoiled, are we?" There was a note of teasing in her voice.

"Spoiled? Mom, I did my own laundry a few days ago in Albuquerque!" Stevie laughed.

What she didn't share with her mother, however, was the fact that she and Lindsey had been cracking up laughing - and maybe a bit too stoned - stuffing hundred-dollar bills into the pockets of both of their jeans to run them through the washer and dryer. They were still laughing, falling into each other as they carried laundry bags down the hallway back to their hotel room, loving each other and loving life, and then tossed the laundry bags down on the floor near the bed and rolled all over each other like two puppies playing in the grass, and then stripped away the clothes they were wearing and made love to Paul McCartney & Wings in a perfect haze of joy and lust and marijuana and music and tenderness. The mundane chore which used to fill her with resentment and exhaustion had become a novelty to them both.

Nights like the one they'd shared in Albuquerque, New Mexico were the ones that made her forgive nights like the one they'd had in Trenton, New Jersey in June, when he'd taken his anger at John over a bass chord change out on her in their room after the show and they'd wound up in a screaming match, one in which he'd accused her of sleeping with Mick and she'd thrown the Yellow Pages at him. He'd grabbed her by the wrist and told her she'd better watch her step, that he knew exactly what she was up to...and minutes later, they were locked together on the rumpled bed, settling the senseless fight the best way they knew how - sex that was so powerful and desperate and all-consuming that she'd waited until he was asleep before she'd locked herself in the bathroom and sobbed uncontrollably for an hour, feeling so angry and out of control and so in love and hate at once that she had sufficiently scared herself to death.

The fighting had been at its worst before they'd joined Fleetwood Mac. Money was tight, they were both still grieving the loss of the baby they'd agreed had been coming at the wrong time but was still already so wanted.

Then the honeymoon period had ensued. Money was coming in so fast they had no idea how to spend it, but they had gotten to fulfill a fantasy, one they'd dreamed up one night two years before after their album release, when she'd come home from a particularly long and difficult shift at Clementine's smelling of beer and French fries and crying because a customer had followed her out to the parking lot in the dark. Lindsey had been a saint to her that night, she remembered, running her a hot bath filled with lavender bubbles and making her their splurge comfort food - grilled cheese and tomato soup - and instructed her to sit down between his knees facing away from him so he could brush her hair. While he did, they'd started their game - A Thousand Ways To Be Frivolous With Money.

"We can take the entire contents of the bank account out in cash and put it on the bed, and then roll around in it naked and have sex on it."

Stevie laughed out loud, temporarily alarming Ginny the dog, who'd been sleeping on the end of the mattress nearby. "Oh my God let's fucking DO that!" she shouted with glee. "Lindsey! You are a genius! We are SO doing that!"

She had dried off after her bubble bath and put on a clean white nightgown, and dried her hair with the blow dryer. Lindsey was in heaven behind her, running her hairbrush through it as they played their game. But when the laughter died down and she began to concentrate on the sensation of the hairbrush as he let it run through her hair slowly, almost in a massaging manner, she found herself trying to hold back tears. The comfort and security of Lindsey's touch after her fear for her safety earlier outside of Clementine's was hitting her harder than ever that night, making for an actual ache in her heart when she relaxed against his knees and realized how much he loved her, how amazing he was at caring for her, how he genuinely enjoyed doing it. It wasn't until he heard the little squeak that was really her hiding a sob that he stopped brushing her hair and said, "Stevie? You okay? Did I hurt you?"

Stevie sobbed out loud then; she couldn't hold back. Even when he asked why she was crying, he was worried it was because he had somehow hurt her with the hairbrush. She turned around and threw her arms around him, and he instinctively did the same. She sobbed quietly against his chest and his fingers began running through her hair.

"It's just...it just feels so good..." she cried into his t-shirt. "You brushing my hair...it's so good...so sweet...thank you." She sniffled, grabbing the front of his shirt up with a tiny fist.

"Baby..." He rocked her gently in his arms, kissing her head and holding her tight. "I love you so much...I hate that I wasn't there to protect you out there but I'm here and I want you to feel safe now. You're safe, angel. I've got you."

"I know." Stevie tried to breathe evenly to stop crying. "Don't let me go yet, okay? One more minute?"

"I'll hold you as long as you want, angel," he promised. "Come here...." Still holding her, he pulled her along onto the bed against the pillows, and when they were lying together under the covers, he continued to stroke her hair as the tears stopped and they continued to play the game. They came up with every possible way to spend the money they were going to make, including buying a Mercedes in every color and having designer clothes made for the dog. Before long, Stevie's tears had turned to laughter, and Lindsey cradled her face in his hands and told her he loved seeing her smile again.

Stevie hung up the phone with her mother and sat in silence on the hotel bed for awhile, thinking of the up and down nature of her relationship and knowing two things for sure...

The dramatic love affair between Lindsey and herself was tearing her apart...but it was about to be responsible for amazing music that finally, after years of trying, they world would finally get to hear.

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