Bluebird

25

April 8, 2013

They were at Madison Square Garden, and tonight would be the first night that Annabel and her band perform onstage. She didn't have the fancy make up artist like Fleetwood Mac, she barely even had a dressing room but much like she did when they were auditioning, she had made herself comfortable in a tiny disgusting bathroom and she was getting ready for the concert. She knew Stevie and the rest of the band and crew, would be watching her like a hawk. Mick had made that very clear to her so she was just trying to ready herself for it. 

She was wearing her black 'Bella Donna Shawl' long sleeve velvet dress. She'd regret it because stage lights were hot and it was April, but the dress made her feel good. She had paired it with a pair of burgundy platform boots. And she was doing her makeup very much like Stevie Nicks. Dark brown-y gold eyeshadow, and a small line of eye liner on her lid. She put a mauve lip color on and then she fluffed her long brownie-blonde waves. She didn't want to crack Stevie's tequila, so she brought her own cheap tequila and she took her shot and then she walked out just as they were being cued up. 

The fans knew that there was going to be an opener and when she got out there and saw the people not even paying attention, just fluttering about, still finding their seats, some getting drinks, she wanted to back out and just run away, but she didn't. She composed herself. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw literally all of Fleetwood Mac gathered on one side of the stage. 

She had six songs, her legacy song -Keeper of the Flame-, Vice, and her Drunk and I Don't want to go home song, were higher up on the setlist. Then there were a few new ones, The House That Built Me, the one she wrote about Salt Lake City, was number five and then she gulped going into her final song of the night. It was her rockiest song, and she wanted to close out the show with it so it would get people riled up to see Fleetwood Mac, so she thought. 

The Band started and she started singing. 

I'm finally on the up and up
A little 401K
Traded in my trailer park
For a neighborhood with a gate
Queen finally got a castle
Last one on the right, you can't miss it
Upgraded from the barbed wire
Now I got a nice picket

I can play high class all day
But some things never change

I can't hide it in a closet
I can't stuff it in a trunk
I always know there's treasure buried somewhere in the junk
I can keep it clean on Sundays
And keep the lights and water on
But I can't keep my white trash off the lawn

Carnation from a flowerbed
In a whiskey bottle base
Cadillac on a cinderblock
Duct tape on every other thing
Real ferns in the sunroom
Bug zapper by the screen
Dog hair on the restoration hardware
Who says you can't have nice things?

I can't hide it in a closet
I can't stuff it in a trunk
I always know there's treasure buried somewhere in the junk
I can't keep my roots from showing
But I'm still dishwater blonde
And I can't keep my white trash off the lawn

New money, old habits
Loveseat in the plastic
Steak fingers in a basket
New money, old habits

I can't hide it in a closet
I can't stuff it in a trunk
I always know there's treasure buried somewhere in the junk
I can keep it clean on Sundays
And keep the lights and water on
But I can't keep my white trash off the lawn

Got more rooms than the Jones'
Y'all, and I'm still addin' on
But I can't keep my white trash off the lawn

I'm finally on the up and up x2

Up and up, up and up, up and up, up and up, up and up

The crowd seemed to enjoy it, it at least got their attention. She said a quick goodbye and then she headed off the stage where she was immediately grabbed by a hard hand and yanked back into the green room. 

"What the HELL was that?" Karen spits in her face as the rest of the band looked on. 

"It was a song, that they seemed too like." Annabel shrugs. 

"You realize that you're opening for one of the classiest bands of all time, at MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, for Christ Sakes, and you're out here singing about rednecks. Where the fuck were you raised anyway, a barn?" Karen growls.

"Hey Now." Mick tries to step in but Annabel shoots him a look. She could handle herself.  

"I was raised in Salt Lake City Utah by a federal Judge and a social worker. YOU are NOT my boss. Mick Fleetwood, Is my Boss. I don't have to listen to you, or take your shit. Get out of my face and let go of my arm, before I sue you for harassment." She growls yanking her arm out of Karen's grasp, and storming out of the green room. 

 Lindsey followed her and hauled her into his dressing room. "Okay, that was pretty impressive, you ARE my kid." 

"Daddy I can't do this...I'm not going to sit here and take that shit from her. I'm going home." 

"No you're not..." He trials off looking at her. He had gotten her number and she knew that so she just made a face and slumped down whining out loud. 

"What do I do? Because I can't..." 

"You're going to keep doing it...Don't sing the same set list. Change it up every night. You have the songs to do it. And you write all of the time, just work with your band all day and then at night, show Karen up." He shrugs. 

"I just want to go to DC" She sighs. 

"Okay, it's about four hour drive, do you want to attempt it?" Lindsey asks.

"I do." She nods.

"I'll make sure your stuff is on the plane...I'll get Ray and a Driver to take you." He nods kissing her head before walking out of the room. There was a 45 minute gap between the opener and the main event so they could get the stage switched around.