Storms (50 page)

I nodded, wiping the tears running down my face with the back of my wrist. He took a few steps to the cassette player and pushed the play button. He glided back and sat down next to me with a strange, fixed smile. We listened.

An eerie melody filled the room. Lindsey crooning a love song, low and wistful, then girlish laughter and the sound of two voices. I heard Sara giggling and saying, “Carol, tell me again what she said to you. I mean I can't believe she would dare speak to you after she'd spilled a drink on your dress! Start from the beginning.”

I heard my voice answering, “OK. First of all, I couldn't believe it when we walked into the dressing room and I saw her hanging all over J.C. You know how cool he is, Sara. I mean, where would he pick up a groupie like that? [More laughter.] Don't say it … God, Sara, you should've seen that dress she had on. It was the worst!” I leaned back and closed my eyes as the tape continued. I heard two girls, laughing, acting deeply immature, talking about clothes, the crassness of a groupie, and our love and admiration of a gallant road manager.

I held my breath, waiting to hear whatever it was that I'd said on that tape that had transformed Lindsey from the warm man I knew and loved to this icy, black threat that was in front of me now. Lindsey jumped up off the bed, and I watched as he prowled across the room, running his fingers through his hair and cursing.

The two disembodied voices continued to reverberate throughout the room. I was now describing a new dress I'd bought, gushing about the design, the fabric, and color. The conversation was centered around fashion magazines, hairstyles, and what clothes we each had decided to take with us on the Australian tour. Nothing about secret crushes on other men. No complaints about my life or the love of my life, Lindsey Buckingham. No mention of Lindsey at all.

I tried to hear whatever it was on the tape that Lindsey seemed to be hearing. I was on emotional overload: exhausted, hurt, and over the edge. My mind raced,
Listen to it, Carol, listen. There's got to be something there. Something, anything that will explain why he's doing this. And if I can hear what's made him so angry then I can fix it—I can calm him down because I'm so scared and I don't know how to make it stop because I don't know why it started … what did I do? Was it my fault? Is this my fault? Lindsey loves me, I know he
loves me and there's nothing on this tape that would make him do this. Lindsey, Lindsey, please …
As these thoughts ran through my mind, my body began to tremble, and I knew I was going to be sick.

I slid off the bed and staggered into the bathroom. Sinking to my knees, I began to throw up over and over again. The silent tears now gave way to sobs as I leaned my head against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. I gave in to the numbness that crept over me.

Outside, I heard nothing. The tape had finished. Then laughter broke the stillness. Like a wounded animal, I shrank back against the wall. The murmur of words and then another laugh, and I realized that Lindsey was talking to someone on the phone. Without being aware of it, I'd gotten to my feet. Holding myself up with one hand against the wall, I took small steps toward the sound of his voice.

“Don't worry about it. I said she's not feeling well. Is he calling the airport? The earlier, the better. C'mon, J.C., what's the problem?”

Lindsey was sitting in a chair watching as I slowly made my way to the bed.

“Six
A.M.?
Good. Who's taking her? She doesn't need two bodyguards, J.C. Send Jet. Great. I don't want to think about the show right now. I'll call you tomorrow. Yeah, yeah. Bye.”

So I was leaving. I sank down on the bed and felt the first flicker of hope as I watched Lindsey hang up the phone. Maybe it was over. Maybe I could just lie down now and close my eyes and wait to be sent away.

Still crying, I lowered my head to my knees. Within seconds, pain ripped through my scalp as Lindsey wrenched me to my feet by my hair.

“Are you trying to make me feel
sorry
for you?” he snarled as he half pushed and pulled me to the center of the room. I twisted myself out of his grasp and stumbled backward, speechless with shock.

“How
dare
you try to make me feel sorry for you!” A flash of movement, a fist to the side of my face, and the back of my head slammed into the wall. I crumpled to the floor.

“Get up.”

Before I could answer, before I could think, before I could scream, he dragged me to my feet again.

Almost gently, Lindsey backed me up against the wall and held me by the throat. As his hands tightened, I could see the rage in his eyes and I
knew that I was helpless. I could hear myself gasping, struggling for breath, but I felt so removed from it now. His face began to fade. And I must have been falling because the room was moving across my vision and then it stopped. There were no images now, only different shades of gray.

I didn't want to come back. I fought to keep the grayness around me. I didn't want to feel anymore, I didn't want to see anymore, I didn't want to try to understand anymore. I never knew before that I could feel so empty. The physical pain was intense—but it was the sensation of emptiness and helplessness that made me bring my hand to my mouth and bite down on it to keep from screaming. I was afraid to move, to make a sound, to do anything that would draw Lindsey back to me.

Deathly quiet enveloped the room, the quiet that you hear after thunder, as loud as the preceding explosion. Darkness was pressing in on me. I moved my head a little, just a little, desperate to see something familiar. I felt so lost as I slowly looked around the room. I didn't recognize anything. Not the chairs, the table, the carpet, the bed—the man on the bed. I didn't know the man on the bed. I could see the shape of his face through the shadows of the room and although it was Lindsey's face, that wasn't the Lindsey I knew. The tears started again, and I made no effort to stop them.

Slowly, I sat up. I looked at Lindsey and saw that he was watching me. Using the wall for support, I pulled myself to my feet and took faltering steps toward the bed.

Lindsey held my gaze for a few seconds and then turned over on his side. I climbed slowly onto the bed. Carefully lying down, I inched myself onto my back and stared at the ceiling. There would be no merciful sleep for me as I waited for the knock on the door. Pain and tears and a desperate sense of loss fought with my exhaustion to keep me awake, depriving me of even one small victory that day.

As dawn filled the room, I heard a knock, and I pushed myself off the bed to answer it. Jet was standing outside the door, waiting to guard me and take care of me. With one look at my face, he knew it was too late for that. His face froze with shock as he reached out to touch me.

I shook my head at him and stepped back. A small voice inside of me screamed,
Where were you when I needed you?
I cut the voice off with another shake of my head and pointed to my suitcase. It hadn't been moved from
the spot where it was first placed by the bellman the night before. With his eyes still glued to my face, he picked it up and set it outside the door.

“Wait”, I whispered, and shut the door, leaving him standing outside. Walking into the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. There were two handprints on my neck. So perfectly formed, it looked as though an artist had pressed them onto my flesh in gray-blue paint. I looked away, knowing that if I gazed at those bruises a second longer I was in danger of losing the calm control that I was shielding myself with.

Mechanically, I splashed my face with water and turned to look for my carry-on bag. I reached into it and pulled out a long velvet scarf, carefully wrapping it around my neck. I didn't want anyone looking at me, talking to me, asking me questions. I didn't want to lie to anyone. I didn't want to bother anyone. There could be no explaining to strangers.

I picked up my carry-on, grabbed my purse from the floor, and paused briefly to take one last look at the man asleep on the bed then stepped out the door and closed it softly behind me.

A shocked and bewildered Jet escorted me through the airport as tears streamed down my face. On the plane I sat and quietly sobbed as the woman next to me stroked my hair, trying to console me. But I could find no consolation. I was utterly devastated.

Going straight home from the airport in L.A., I fell into a fitful sleep full of horrible images with a soundtrack of girlish voices laughing. At 4
A.M.
the ringing of the phone woke me. It was Lindsey. He just wanted to make sure I was home safe, he said. He didn't mention the horrible fight. He told me that the band would be in Hawaii within a week's time and he wanted me to fly there to rejoin the tour. Exhausted, bewildered, but grateful that for now, at least, he seemed calm, I quietly told him, “Lindsey, we need to talk—”

Lindsey interrupted me, “There's nothing to talk about. Everything's fine. I want you to come to Hawaii, Carol, I miss you.”

“Sure”, I said softly and hung up the phone. Tears ran down my face as I tried desperately not to think about what had happened in a nondescript hotel room in Australia. And I tried to understand how without warning, Lindsey would become a dangerous stranger, but that afterward he would once again be the Lindsey I knew and loved—but refused to acknowledge that anything had ever happened. Did he really not remember? It made no sense, but yet, it was true.

A part of my mind knew that I should pack my suitcase, move out before he got back, and never, ever see him again. But I felt so shell-shocked, so exhausted, and so overwhelmed that doing that seemed beyond me. And I still loved him. God, how I loved him. I didn't understand why this had happened—and I doubted that I ever would—but it didn't matter if I understood it. I just had to make it stop. For his sake, as well as mine. I knew that I hadn't done anything wrong to cause his rage, but at the same time I felt that it must be my fault for not knowing how to keep it from happening again. And I truly believed that if I tried hard enough, was smart enough, loved long enough—that I could save us both from whatever demons seemed to be following us. I knew that I had to try.

Four days later I received a phone call from Sara. Things were not good, she told me. As I listened in stunned disbelief she told me about what had just happened in Auckland, New Zealand. At a concert in front of thirty thousand people, Lindsey totally lost it on stage. The show was being simulcast over radio to all of New Zealand, which only added to the horror of what she was telling me. I sank down onto the floor as I listened to her story.

The band had only been playing for a little while, she said, when Lindsey suddenly pulled his jacket up over his head—once again mimicking Stevie and her shawl-draped stage persona. He followed her around in grotesque imitation, intentionally playing the wrong parts on his guitar song after song. And then, before anyone could even try to stop him, he started kicking out at her with his heavy cowboy boots, doing his best to land blows on her unprotected legs—and when he did, the kick seemed to stun her.

The audience was also stunned, Sara said. Stevie frantically tried to stay away from his steel-toed cowboy boots and the whole show fell apart. And it all happened in front of thirty thousand fans in the audience and untold thousands listening on their radios. Afterward, when the band headed back to the dressing room, Christine walked up to Lindsey and slapped him hard across the face as she screamed, “Don't you ever do that to us again, do you hear me? How dare you do that to the band and Stevie?” She then threw a drink in his face.

As I listened in shock I thought back to the fight Lindsey and I had that caused me to leave for home and I felt sick to my stomach. “He hasn't called me today, Sara. I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what's
wrong. Tell Stevie how sorry I am that it happened, OK? I feel really, really awful that she had to go through that.”

“She cried hysterically after the show. It was really bad. Carol, what happened between you and Lindsey the night before you left?” Sara asked softly.

“I don't want to talk about it, Sara. I just can't right now. But let J.C. know that I'm coming to Hawaii. Maybe once the band is back in the States everything will be back to the way it was before Australia. I don't know, Sara”, I told her with a heartfelt sigh. “I'll see you real soon. Thanks for letting me know, honey. I'm going to call Lindsey. I need to make sure that he's all right.”

As soon as I'd hung up the phone I went running for my
Tusk
road book and dialed Lindsey's room. He answered and in a subdued voice told me that he wasn't feeling well but that he couldn't wait to see me. He just wanted to go to sleep, he said. As we made small talk I kept waiting for him to bring up New Zealand, or what happened between us in Melbourne, but he didn't. So I told him that I loved him and hung up the phone.
I pray that I never, ever have to go to Australia again
, I thought to myself as I slowly walked upstairs to our bedroom. I loved the country when I first arrived. But now I knew that my last night in Australia would forever haunt my dreams—and Melbourne had now become my city of the damned.

Three days before I left for Hawaii I got a much-needed distraction. It was time for me to do the shoot for the Eagles songbook. Jim wanted to use me as the model for two songs, “Disco Strangler” and “King of Hollywood.” The first shoot was done during the day in his studio and I got to dance all day long dressed in a gold Stephen Burrows cocktail dress as a leering “strangler” lurked in the background. That night we did the second shoot in the backyard of my home in Coldwater Canyon.

There was a Jacuzzi by the pool and with a sleazy-looking actor and Jim's girlfriend Karen as my fellow models, we took the pictures for “King of Hollywood.” The shoot was a total success. I was already a friend of Jim's live-in girlfriend and we had a blast as we giggled and posed in the Jacuzzi as naive models falling under the spell of the sleazy character in the Eagles song. And it felt so good to laugh again.