How Stevie Nicks became my step god mother
When I was 14 my dad introduced me to his girlfriend. She was 23ish and he was around 41. She was an attractive young blonde. Incredibly stylish and always wearing the biggest brands. Louis Vuitton and all that. She flew in from Nashville TN and it was very obvious as soon as she began talking.
We went out to dinner and she was the most fun. She was drinking, he was drinking, I was out late and it felt lawless and free. It seemed like she had an endless supply of money. Over the next year it stayed like this when I would visit on weekends until I eventually moved in.
Eventually I had to ask "where does she get all this money and why is she with a fat old divorced dad?"
"She likes my writing," he would say.
My dad was a writer on the internet for a long time. He had a following and no shortage of people sending him gifts and asking for more posts. He was heavily involved in the cam girl scene and when you mix all that together you can lock down a 23 year old Titans cheerleader from Nashville while looking like a bridge troll. (True story, she was a Titans cheerleader, but more on that later.)
I pushed harder and harder on the money aspect until he finally let me in on the big secret.
"She's Stevie Nicks' goddaughter. She has a trust fund. Do not fucking tell anyone."
I obviously didn't believe this but then the proof started pouring in. Pictures of her with celebrities around the apartment, the money, the never ending mission to look like a 2003 Christina Aguilera but never quite getting there, and of course the walk-in closet filled with Fleetwood Mac memorabilia.
As a 15 year old, knowing your very young attractive stepmom is the goddaughter of celebrity royalty, I realized how many doors had just opened for me. (This is before stepmom porn so that wasn't even a consideration yet.) I would be going to parties, meeting celebrities, I'd have connections. I was a chubby goth kid, bald with alopecia, but I'd probably also be at the Grammys next year.
As time went on she'd tell me stories about vacationing at Prince's house or the time Steven Tyler tried to fuck her when she was 16. Coach bags would show up. $500 boots I couldn't pronounce. She had a T-Mobile Sidekick which I thought was the most luxurious thing a person could own, reserved only for the elite and the rich kids at school.
She'd spend her nights on the phone with Stevie and weekends were reserved for eating out and partying. Christmas gifts consisted of one of a kind items only someone with true connections could get. One Christmas, I received a signed Limp Bizkit windbreaker. To Jaz, keep rollin, Fred Durst. I don't know that I've ever been so excited for something to this day, and I have 3 kids I witnessed come into this world. My dad proudly displayed his authentic Janis Joplin beads on the shelf with a certificate of authenticity stating she wore them live on stage. Needless to say we were thriving in our shithole tiny apartment.
One day while heading into Philly we passed a billboard. "Fleetwood Mac Live at the Wells Fargo Center" (or whatever it was called then).
Immediately I yelled "we're going right!" I should mention, I don't care about Fleetwood Mac. I probably wasn’t their demographic. Landslide is an incredible song, I just think to this day no one has done it well, including Aunt Stevie herself. What I do like is to be wined and dined, which I figured Nana Stevie would obviously do for her newest nephew… grandson… whatever she'd like to claim me as.
But the vibes in the car immediately fell off. Before anyone spoke I knew Aunt Stevie would not be introducing me to Fred Durst someday.
"Her and I aren't talking right now. She's upset I married your dad."
Devastated. Not because of her lost relationship with a woman who cared for her so much, but because I had already made so many plans to exploit her connections and money. Not only will I not be meeting Fred Durst, but now I have to find a new backer for my record label and mortgage. (I'm still roughly 14 or 15 btw.)
As the months went on her and Stevie talked occasionally but nothing came from it until Stevie eventually froze the trust fund, causing my stepmom to join the workforce as a waitress.
This is where the honeymoon period ends.
Being that my dad was a drunk and on occasion (daily) my stepmom would enjoy a handful of painkillers, they would sometimes disagree. Mostly on trivial things like who sang which song, where the rent money went, who got blackout drunk and pissed in the closet, and a few times over my dad's disapproval of her scoring drugs by blowing coworkers.
If things heated up enough I would be sent away for the weekend. Typically to my aunt's, where I could sneak out and get drunk with my cousin in the woods.
On the return of my teenage drunken voyage in the woods I came home to an apartment that may have been robbed or may have just tipped over. Chairs flipped, broken glass, some type of liquid on the floor. Possibly piss... probably piss.
I asked my dad how his weekend was and he pulled me into my room the same way a seasoned soldier would pull the new guy into a bunker to avoid gunfire.
First he covered the basics.
"I love you. I'm sorry you have to see this. Everything is ok now."
Then we got to the climax.
"Your stepmom and I had a fight. I ended up calling her mom to find out what was wrong with her and told her I knew about Stevie Nicks and the trust fund." This was top secret family information he had just admitted to knowing, to the only other person who was allowed to know. She must have been furious... Except she responded, in her very southern accent, "What the fuck are you talking about? Stevie Nicks?"
My stepmom was not Stevie Nicks' goddaughter. She was a drug addict with credit cards and incredible creativity. Janis Joplin's beads? Fake. Signed Jimi Hendrix album? Fake. Framed picture with Bon Jovi hanging on the fridge? Photoshopped. Backup cheerleader for the Tennessee Titans? Never confirmed but I’m going to assume not. Vacations at Prince's house? Creative, but a lie. And worst of all, Fred Durst doesn't even know my name.
What actually happened is she was a depressed teen who tried to off herself. While in the hospital her family reached out to two of her favorites, Patti LaBelle and Stevie Nicks. Patti LaBelle wrote back and said something like "hey knock it off" or sang it. Idk the details are fuzzy here, but Stevie never responded. So she did what anyone would do. Became a cam girl, fell for an old guy 2000 miles away, created a life where she was successful and Stevie Nicks loved her like a daughter, and blew some dudes for percs along the way.
They stayed together for another 5 or 6 years after that but we never discussed Stevie Nicks again. If it came on in Kmart we would all be awkwardly quiet until the song ended. The closet full of Stevie Nicks merch got covered with clothes and was never spoken about again. Eventually he left her and got sober.
But to this day.... Fred Durst and I never became friends.