Storms by Carol Ann Harris Page A

me.
    â€œNeed a drink?”
    â€œNo, thanks.” I murmured, looking shyly at Julie, and the rest of the Mac.
    â€œEveryone, dinner is ready. Where’s Stevie?” J.C. innocently asked. A fresh round of laughter broke out among the seated group and a small frown crossed his face. “What happened?”
    â€œNothing, J.C.”, Stevie declared loudly as she came storming out from behind the drum riser. Holding her head high, she glared at Lindsey and me as she swept past regally with an entourage of three girlfriends in tow. All of them took turns shooting daggers at me as they passed me by.
So much for making friends tonight
, I thought.
    â€œShe’s had a rough night, don’t mind her”, Lindsey murmured with a smirk on his face. I nodded quickly in response and followed him to the buffet.
    After everyone had eaten, Lindsey walked me over to Julie Ruebens and pulled out the chair next to her. “Julie will watch over you while we rehearse, won’t you, Julie?”
    With a bright smile, Julie nodded as Lindsey kissed me quickly and then headed toward his guitar stands. I smiled at Julie, noticing once again how pretty she was with her brown hair falling in waves to her shoulders. The kindness that I had noticed about her at the band’s celebration dinner was shining from her eyes.
    All of the band were congregating on “stage” and after ten minutes of warming up, they launched into “You Make Lovin’ Fun”, and then continued playing their new songs from
Rumours.
To my ears, it sounded great, although it was obvious that in some of the songs, the band was struggling to get in sync with each other.
    But there was magic there.
    I could feel it as it echoed throughout the large, oppressive soundstage. Lindsey, seemingly content to stand at the back of the stage, was focusing on his intricate guitar licks as he watched John and Mick out of the corner of his eye. On the other side of the stage, John McVie stood in yet another garish Hawaiian shirt. Solid, loud, in the tradition of most bass players, he was an anchor to Mick Fleetwood’s clowning behind the drums. Christine was pounding on her keyboards with a wry smile on her face in between her vocals, making it apparent to everyone that she was having a blast.
    I watched Stevie sing and realized again just how beautiful she was. As the band started into “Rhiannon”, she took on a bewitching, hex-like quality as she spun in front of the microphone. Wearing a long black skirt that shimmered as she moved, with a simple top and a silk scarf around her neck, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Watching her, I realized that she was a combination of little girl and erotic fantasy. With a smoky voice and an aura of mysticism that promised great pleasures and even greater dangers, she was a force to be reckoned with.
    I knew then and there that she was going to be one hell of a match for me. As I slumped down into my chair, I told myself that even though I would never, ever have her musical ability, I’d do everything within my power to match her in other areas—even if it killed me.
    I know that this sounds overly dramatic, but when you’re twenty-two years old and your new boyfriend’s ex-lover is a rock goddess, you tend to take things very seriously.
    I sighed and looked over at Julie. As though she could read my mind, Julie smiled at me sympathetically and grabbed my hand. “Come on. I have something you might like. Let’s go to the bathroom”, she whispered.
    We stood up, passing the row of chairs occupied by Stevie’s girlfriends. I hadn’t been introduced to them, but as far as I could tell, they looked as though they’d all been dressed from Stevie’s closet. Long skirts, velvet scarves, and varying shades of blonde hair marked them as Stevie’s girls. I would soon discover that Stevie never went anywhere without her entourage of “girl fans.”
    Walking