Then She Vanishes In Thin Air

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Hollywood Hills, California
Friday, September 28, 2002
(2:00 pm)
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"Whoever mixes this record, it will be a life-changing experience for them, you know?"

Stevie sat at the control board facing Lindsey, discussing who would be nominated by Fleetwood Mac to mix the album. The argument about whether or not to put out a double album had finally been settled, with Lindsey agreeing to take a bath on a lot of money in royalties, which Stevie completely understood. After Street Angel in 1994, Stevie understood the idea of artistic integrity.

Which she didn't understand, however, was how Lindsey could be playing so fast and loose with his money when he still intended to sell his real estate property in Brentwood. She still remembered Mick's irresponsible bookkeeping during the Tusk tour, and how he had cried in her lap over disappointing everyone one night after Sara had kicked him out of the house, as angry at him as everyone else was.

"Oh, I'll say." Lindsey was avoiding eye contact with her, staring oddly down at his hands and playing with them.

"It's like, they'll never be the same, so...it's a really big deal...I just wish that we... you know...had more choices."

"Well.." Lindsey was sitting in a swivel chair, and he turned it away from her and awkwardly off to the side. "I guess... It almost seems like we have too many already, in a way...I mean, if this is the process we're going to go through." He fumbled around on a nearby table for a small leather-bound notebook with various small papers stuffed inside.

They had been in heavy discussion for a few days now about which of the two sound mixers - his choice or hers - would be mixing the final cut of the album. Stevie sat in her chair in black pants and a black chiffon blouse that was patterned with different reds and whites, and part of why Lindsey had looked away was because the open-toe high heels she wore showed off her red-painted toenails, and just two nights before, after she had been to have her manicure and pedicure done, Lindsey had played with those very toes with his fingers and even sucked on a few, calling them "little piggies" and singing to the Beatles song from the White Album, "Do you see the little piggies sitting in the yard..." as Stevie had giggled in bed and thrashed about, telling him to please stop, it tickled.

What he hadn't called attention to, however, was the fact that Stevie, who was just over five feet tall and had always been petite - save for the eight years of overeating brought on by her klonopin addiction - seemed to be shrinking. It wasn't just that she was losing weight, he acknowledged; she was just getting...smaller somehow. His toe-worshipping session had led to a rather playful yet passionate round of lovemaking, and as he grabbed onto various places on her body - her waist, her hips, her shoulders - he'd become almost afraid to let himself go, afraid to give her his all the way she liked it, for fear of breaking her somehow. Against his better judgment as a father but not knowing what to do, he had confided in Julia over the phone earlier that day while Stevie was dropping Amber off at school.

He'd confessed everything - how he felt her disappearing before his eyes, how she always seemed warm to the touch as if she had a fever, how run down she was at the end of the work day, how he'd found her sound asleep on the floor of her walk-in closet the day after they'd returned home from Phoenix in July, and when he'd rushed to wake her, fearing she'd lost consciousness instead of just falling asleep, she had told him not to worry, that she had been looking for a particular black shirt of the hundreds she owned and it had tired her out to sort through the heavy piles.

In the end, Julia had agreed to talk to Stevie about her health, and a split second later, Stevie had appeared back in the kitchen where he stood talking on the phone, and he'd quickly switched the conversation by telling Julia he had to get going to the studio now that Mom was back but to "tell Jodie I'll remember to bring him those swing band records I promised him last time he was over here." Julia had taken the hint, Stevie had yelled hi to Julia from the other side of the kitchen, and they'd left for the studio, Stevie none the wiser.

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