"God damn it, Lindsey, will you stop?!" She screams through the wall, suddenly incredibly annoyed by the pounding from the other side. He was constantly annoyed by her music. She was constantly annoyed by the fact that he was annoyed. He was still pissed and she knew it. When Rolling Stone had approached the band about being a part of the feature story, Lindsey had been furious. They hadn't made up yet.
"TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC DOWN! I'm trying to warm up!" His voice booms through the wall, and she lets out a noise somewhere between anger and disgust, flinging the door to the wardrobe open and snatching a pair of boots. At some point, they started putting their dressing rooms next to each other, and this had become a nightly routine.
Tensions had been high the whole tour. Kristen had been pretty furious when the last one ended, and they ended up completely distant again. She hated how much she missed him, which made things even worse. Neither one of them had been able to swallow their pride long enough to talk, so they screamed at each other through walls, and hugged occasionally onstage. No knock-down drag-out fights, no sneaking into each other's rooms.
It fucking sucked.
The media was so pre-occupied with her love life that she always seemed to be answering questions about it lately, and she found herself growing increasingly negative in her response. "I've narrowed it down to no one," she spits at the reporter, who laughs a little, interpreting the comment as snarky. She offers a smirk, trying to play along. If only they knew how painfully true her statement was. There wasn't anyone. Lindsey was the only one she had ever been able to picture herself with at this age.
Christine had been her salvation. She was a calming, kind force on the tour, and even though they didn't see each other as much as Stevie would have like right now, she was probably the only reason they were all functional. Even Mick had been consistently miffed by the dual solo success she was having. They usually didn't overlap that much.
"Stevie?"
"Come in," she says, spraying her bangs and brushing her hair in the mirror. "Hi, Chris."
"I just talked to your reporter."
"Did you say nice things?"
"Only nice things," she says, smiling.
"Thank you," says Stevie, locking eyes with her friend in the mirror. "You're the only one that would talk to them."
"I know. I heard Lindsey and Mick going on about it," she says, taking a seat. "You know that you have every right to be successful. We know that you're still with us. I'm proud of you."
Stevie turns and gives Chris a sad smile. "I wish they'd felt that way."
"They do. They'll come around. Lindsey's jealous. Mick's just an ass." This gets a laugh from Stevie, who sits down beside her.
"The band didn't even feel like the band without you. I had so much time being solo. It's so hard to switch gears like this again. I know I'm running out of years, and there's so much left to do."
"I have no doubt you'll do it all, love," says Chris reassuringly. "Finish getting ready. I'll see you backstage."
When they gather backstage, she feels everyone's eyes on her. She flanks herself with the girls until it's time to go on, choosing to ignore all of the tension.
The article gets circulated to the band before it hits the stands, and the day it gets to them, she disappears into her hotel. Fortunately, it's an off day and she gets to hole up in her suite, taking phone interviews and meeting with Karen. She was pushing herself really hard, and it felt good. She felt accomplished. Being quiet let her think too much, and she wasn't okay with that anymore. Not this year.
"Can't we get to New York the week before?"
"No, Stevie. We don't have time, you really need to take that day off," Karen insists.
"Why? We can go that Tuesday and do the taping and be back with the band by the show Wednesday."
"Take the Tuesday off, please. I'll see if we can get another date."
She rolls her eyes. "Fine."
Suddenly the door flies open and Lindsey enters, looking aggravated. He slams a copy of the magazine down on the table, and Stevie looks down at her photoshopped, highly stylized cover, then furrows her brow and looks up at him.
"Can I help you?"
"Stevie, what the hell is this?"