Buckingham Nicks A/U Series Part 7: Say You Will

You Can't See Her Soul

Santa Monica, California
Friday, February 1, 2002
(7:00 pm)
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"It's not like I don't have a plan, Mom. I don't know why you're so upset about this."

Julia Buckingham sat at the glass table out on the second-floor deck of her parents' home, watching the tiny blonde woman she'd looked up to for twenty-five years as she slammed plates and glasses and silverware down onto four placemats with the force of a person who was angry and hurt. Behind her, her father was turning steaks over on a barbecue grill with a pair of tongs, and at her side sat Jodie, her best friend and the love of her life, the man she had literally known since birth, the person who had warned her in the car earlier that night that her news would not be met with the smiles and hugs she thought it would.

Five minutes ago, Julia had just informed her parents that she was dropping out of law school with one term left to go.

Lindsey turned away from his cooking project and, gesturing with tongs in his hand, said, "It's just a surprise, Jules. That's why she's upset."

Stevie whirled around suddenly, blonde hair flying behind her. "Don't speak for me, Lindsey. It's not just that it's a surprise. It's insane, that's what it is."

"It's not insane at all, Mom. I have it all figured out," Julia explained. She looked up at her mother's face, screwed up with anger and hurt, and then at her father's face, which was more bewildered than anything else. "What's insane is continuing to devote my time and your money to goal that no longer makes sense to me."

"Then enlighten me, Julia." Stevie took a seat at the table beside poor Jodie, who hadn't said a word yet. She looked into the blue eyes of her oldest child, who sat nervously stroking the green glass neck of her bottle of beer. She suddenly had a flash of memory of being offered Coke in the old green glass bottles in a garage in Northern California by a young man named Lindsey who'd invited her to join his band and looked at her with the same blue eyes. Jesus Christ, that was yesterday! she thought. "What is this plan you have that includes wasting almost three years and two hundred thousand dollars?"

"I've given this a lot of thought," Julia began, leaning over across her beer and her empty plate. "As an entertainment lawyer I'd always be on the other side of the art. It seems corporate, disingenuous...just wrong. I'm not a shark, Mom; I'm no Irving Azoff."

Stevie couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her. Julia was right; she was no shark. Julia was sweet, disarming, soft spoken, calm. She said, "I'll give you that. So...the plan."

"I've been talking a lot to Dave Stewart," said Julia. "We had a conversation about documentary film making at Thanksgiving when stopped by. I want to tell stories and I want them to be real. I want to make the projects, not just hammer out a treaty about them between the artist and the studio. I've been in touch with a few people Dave set me up with about this and it's becoming less of a pipe dream of mine and more of an actual direction."

"So you are dropping out of law school to make documentaries." Stevie reclined in her chair. "About what?"

Julia and Jodie exchanged a look, and Stevie leaned in over the table. Julia cleared her throat and said, "Actually, right now I'm thinking of a story about the children of Fleetwood Mac. Me and Aaron and Sara...even Amber...and Jodie and Liv...and I've called Amy and Lucy and Molly and asked them if they'd be into it...a documentary about what it's been like for us growing up around you guys and the music and the drama and all...and how we all seem to gravitate towards each other in our own little bubble the way our parents did...I'm calling it Chain, Keep Us Together: The Children Of Fleetwood Mac."