A Karat of Patience

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Come on, Christine! Let's get moving!"

Christine lay spread-eagled on the grass, the morning dew slowly seeping into her tank top. She didn't mind, as it was a cool relief from the uncomfortable perspiration that coated her skin. Sargent Major Mick had her on the grind from 7am doing push-ups, sit-ups, dumbbell squats—the whole gambit. Right now, he was spritely practicing cone drills while Christine had dipped off on the sly, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Up! Up!" he called out again.

"Give me five." Christine lifted her hand and let it drop back on the grass. "Just so I don't go into cardiac arrest."

"You sound like Stephanie with the dramatics, my dear."

"Yeah, yeah."

The exercise regime was put in place to help Christine prepare for life back on the road. Every day, she and Mick were out on the lawn of their rented Santa Monica Canyon estate at 7am, going through a workout implemented by her personal trainer. The On with the Show tour was scheduled for late-September, and Christine's aim was to be fit enough to stand up for two and a half hours on one foot behind her keyboards. Most days, she powered through the aches and pains, but this morning, all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and not move for the rest of the morning.

Mick was not having it. She opened her eyes and sighed when his face loomed over her bearing a big, infuriating grin.

"No excuses, McVie. You need to be forty-five again, remember?"

Christine promptly gave him the finger before grasping his outstretched hand, groaning when she was hoisted up.

"I'm just repeating what you told the media, darling."

"Remind me to shut up during interviews," Christine mumbled, wiping wet blades of grass off the back of her thighs.

Mick laughed and they jogged back to the cones, the L.A. morning sun warming their backs as Christine picked up where she had left off.

----

Christine settled into the corner of a leather sofa at The Village Studios—where Fleetwood Mac had recorded Tusk—next to Lindsey. Side by side, they listened to the playback of Too Far Gone, a funky song Christine had written the lyrics for.

"I love the drums," Lindsey noted. "They almost sound tribal."

Christine nodded, smiling widely. "I agree. We can thank Mick for that." When the song finished, she flashed a double thumbs-up to their engineer, Mark, and gave Lindsey a little side hug.

Over the last eight weeks, Christine and Lindsey had written and recorded eight new songs and they were immensely happy. Along with the material the band had recorded before the 2013 tour, Fleetwood Mac had the makings of a new album.

"I heard my name being mentioned?" Mick quipped, walking into the room with a container of salad. He grabbed a digital camera off the coffee table and pointed it at his band mates. Christine pulled a goofy, cross-eyed face while Lindsey threw his usual, brooding death-stare.

"Shame John and Stevie aren't here," Christine said, tossing her notebook aside.

"I'm sure John will slither in like he did yesterday." Mick shrugged. "He won't let a little thing like chemo distract him from working."

Christine laughed and made a mental note to call John later. Much to everyone's relief, John's prognosis was looking very good, and his treatment would be finished just in time for On With the Show.