Chapter Text
She’s nervous and she doesn’t really know what for. She’s done interviews before, she has had to get out of uncomfortable situations in which annoying journalists tried to get the best of her without caring about her feelings at all.
Maybe it’s the fact she’s no longer high and drunk all of the time. Drugs made her reckless and fearless, and sobriety makes her careful and thoughtful. Or as careful as someone like her can be.
She realizes, though, that the only reason she is nervous is that she is going to be listening to her songs during the interview, and she is going to have to address them. She has to explain them to someone else, knowing thousands will be listening and analyzing her every word.
When she went to rehab, she couldn’t even think about picking up a pen. The mere thought of trying to write something, anything at all, made her heart shake and crumble in her chest. Withdrawal turned out to be harder than she expected, but it wasn’t more painful than the hole in her chest and the missing part of her soul that she had been carrying since Chicago.
She was healing some wounds, but she felt as though half of her soul wasn’t hers anymore. Everything hurt, everything reminded her of him. She thought about how alone he must have felt when he first went to rehab, thinking about his daughter, and feeling guilty for not being the man he wanted. Fearing he would turn out to be like his father, afraid he was going to lose a woman like Camila.
She spent endless hours wondering if she made the right choice by letting him go and if he was doing alright. She had pushed him away in hopes he would find his way back to what he needed to be okay. Who he needed. And it hurt, the realization that who he needed would never be her.
Billy loved her broken, but she loved him whole; and if she had him then, she would be loving a ghost, a nonexistent version of the man he could be.
So, on the hardest nights, she would remind herself of that. She would hold herself in the uncomfortable bed and remember she did it for him. To save him. And in the process, she was saving herself. She couldn’t be making a mistake out of that.
The process was even more difficult because she wasn’t writing. She couldn’t write about sobriety, because she spent her days wishing to get out of rehab and getting her new high.
She couldn’t write about Billy, because it fucking hurt to even think about his name. It felt as though she had lost the two things that kept her alive.
When she went out of rehab, three months after entering the program, she moved with Simone and Bernie to New York. She crashed their couch and Simone checked on her all the time, to the point it was annoying. Daisy knew she was just worried, they had all been told the first few weeks of being out in the real world could be crucial to whether she was ready or needed to get back some more time. What they didn’t know was that Daisy didn’t ache for the drugs, not anymore. She ached for something completely different.
During those first few weeks, she tried to write again. It hurt because, with every word she put on paper, she could see Billy’s face. He always made a grin whether she had done a good line and he didn’t want to admit it to her. She missed his voice mumbling the words and the soft sound of his guitar creating a melody for her lyrics.
She often wondered what he would say about all the metaphors she was using. He usually found them exhausting and said it was better to get to the core of it all. It was always funny to her, how he talked about honesty in the lyrics but never in the real world. In the real world, Billy Dunne didn’t know how to be honest.
She did some songs about being sober, about seeing the world without the bandage drugs were for her. There was one track, “Old Ways”, that wasn’t bad, but it had something missing.
At first, she thought it was the band. She missed having a band to play the arrangements with, have someone to explain the lyrics to. So Teddy got her a band in a New York recording studio. She did what she would have done with The Six, and it was great, but the song was still missing something. She went through the lyrics, over and over, changed the melodies and the verses, even the chorus. No matter what she did, the song didn’t feel right.
“What is it,” she asked Simone one day, coming back home, “Why am I not happy with this song?”
Simone gave her an apologetic smile. “It’s a good song, Daisy.”
“But it’s not great. It’s not what I’m capable of.”
And by the look on Simone’s face, she knew her best friend thought it as well. And she knew she had an opinion about it. “Spill it.”
“Daisy, I don’t think…”
“Simone, just say it.” She asked. She needed her to do it. She needed to feel connected to music again. If she couldn’t get back to music, she would’ve lost everything.
“You’re not being honest.” Simone finally said, “That song? Is good. But it’s not about what you want to be writing about.”
“And what do I want to write about?”
Simone raised an eyebrow, and even though Daisy hated it, she had to admit Simone was right. She was holding back in her lyrics, not writing from her heart because she was afraid of what that would mean.
He was in her heart, still. If she was to write from it, she would write about him. And that scared her. She didn’t want to shake his perfect life. She didn’t want him to tune in to the radio with Camila one day and hear her single, about how much she fucking loves him even after months of separation. How much she would always love him.
“I don’t know if I can do that” she murmured, and Simone smiled.
“I know you can.”
And she did.
She started writing from her heart, with her heart. She made songs that resonated with every cell of her body and every piece of her soul. Somedays, she would cry so much the tears dried on her face before she realized she was crying again. On other days, she was upset, and angry with the world that she could never get her happy ending. That she always had to be the one suffering.
That’s how she did her self-titled album. “Daisy” was about love, heartbreak, rediscovery, and mourning. It was about her. And now she was supposed to discuss it in a carpool karaoke because apparently people loved watching these things and it was an interesting way to promote her album.
When the interviewer got in the car, with a wide smile, she felt a little bit more relaxed. He didn’t look like a bad dude. She could do this.
They started riding through the streets of LA. It was weird, that they were supposed to be driving somewhere but they were just being pulled by another car while they did the interview.
They did some small talk at first. Nothing too serious, just some scripted conversation about the traffic in LA.
“Would you mind if I put the radio on?” the interviewer said, and that part was strictly scripted.
She didn’t know what question he was going to ask, but she did know she was supposed to sing every song he put on the radio. He switched it on and “All These Months” started playing. This one is as special as it’s harmful. It’s about looking back at all the months that had passed, all the decisions she had to take, and how none of them erased how she felt about him.
“Couldn't help but overhear you
Sounds like you're happy with her.
But does she kiss you like I kissed you?
Ooh, I wish I loved you like I miss you.
I never prepared,
For a moment like that,
And suddenly it all went down,
It all went down.”
As the song comes to an end, she feels a lump in her throat. She thinks her voice is going to crack at any moment and does her best to keep it together. She puts on a fake smile as she turns to look at him, and wishes he won't realize.
“So, Daisy Jones, tell us. What was the inspiration behind this album?”
Oh, that’s a tricky one. And that’s supposed to be the easy one out of all the questions he can ask. This is going to be hell for her, she knows it already.
“Well, life, I guess?” she tries to joke, buying some time before she has to get to the complicated stuff, and the presenter gives her a comforting smile, “I’ve gone through a lot since the last time I made an album.”
“You are referring to your collaboration with The Six, right? Are we allowed to talk about it?”
The interviewer looks at her like he's afraid she will break from mentioning them.
She's aware of what has been said about their disbanding, all the tabloids and the morning shows that have been dedicated exclusively to analyzing every single little detail about the Chicago performance.
Some have blamed her, for sure. Others have been more empathetic. Everyone thought it had something to do with Billy and her.
“Of course. It’s an important part of my life.”
What she really wants to say it’s that it’s fine as long as they don’t talk about someone in particular. She can talk about the band, but she can’t talk about him. And she can tell the interviewer knows better than to go down that route because he smiles and nods.
“So, how has your life changed since the last time we saw you?”
“Well, I went to rehab. I’m sober now.” The interviewer makes a victory sign and she laughs. It’s surprising to her how it is an actual, honest laugh. “I wanted to be a better version of myself, so I got clean. When I felt better, I came back to the studio.”
“You decided to self-title your album. Why was that?”
“I felt it was important for my comeback to be about me. I have done music before, and I do not mean to say it wasn’t me in those songs, but I’m a different person now. I wanted this album to be linked to me as an individual.”
Before the interviewer nods, there’s another song coming through the speakers. This time it’s, “For You” a powerful, challenging song vocally that she did in a day she was particularly upset with the world. It was a good song, but it was also mean. That’s why she loved it so much.
“Reasons, why you ran
Don't make you a good man
Yes, I understand
You were on time at the wrong time
I was debating, but tried and I don't know why
You can act cold on a dime and so outta line
For you
I'd do anything for you
Nail my heart to the ceiling
Put my fist through a wall
How come (how come)
I stick around when I break down (break down, break down)
I take the blows like a champion (champion, champion)
But I get nothing at all
Reasons for my hope
All make me a big joke
I already know
You were just fine, I was just fine
Why did we turn a good time to a dark one?
I'd give you a chance, but the better man never called, oh, oh”
"That was... wow." The interviewer said. "Your vocals are just... out of this world."
"Thank you."
"It looks like you were upset that day, weren't you?"
"I mean, yeah."
“You say you want this album to be about you, but you seem to reflect a lot about something else in these tracks,” the interviewer asks, carefully, and Daisy sights.
She knew the moment was coming, and she was surprisingly ready when she replies. “Yes, that’s right. In a lot of these songs, I’m… talking about a relationship that really shaped me into the person I am today. Some are hopeful, others are sad, and others, like this one, are spiteful and angry. I was going through a lot with this person, and I couldn’t quite talk about it with him, so I put it out in songs.”
She is praying he won't ask the reason why she can no longer talk to this person. She thinks the interviewer already knows. She thinks the world will probably know as well.
“Well, I congratulate you. I have had the pleasure to listen to the whole thing and it’s really good.”
“Thank you so much, I appreciate it.”
“I wanted to ask one more personal question if it's okay with you."
She wants to say no. She wants to avoid this from happening, in case it hurt her. But she just nods and waits for the question to come.
"What is the most romantic thing someone has ever done for you?"
The question catches her by surprise, and she gives a nervous laugh trying to buy time to think. She tries to think of a situation where someone said something romantic to her, something they didn't intend for her to accept them in her bed right after.
She tries to think of someone other than Billy. She doesn't want to say anything that the public can relate to him. She doesn't want him to watch the show on a Friday night and know that no one has treated her as well as he has. He doesn't want him to know she's still pinning over him, a year and a half after disbanding.
"Looks like you have to think about it, huh? So many memories?" The interviewer asks.
"Not as many as you'd think, no." She says, honestly.
"So, what's the winner?"
"Hum..." She thinks some more. She considers lying. She goes through every word Nicki said to her in Greece. She fell in love with him there because he was the perfect gentleman that turned out to be the ugliest frog. But he did say nice things at the beginning. The problem is that they don't resonate with her. Not the way Billy's have. "Someone once told me they believed in God because they met me."
"Wow." The interviewer said, and it was clear whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this.
"Yeah, I know."
She thinks about him. The soft words and the way he had looked at her. The way she had felt with him. She had thought she had him at that moment, the whole of him. They had spent a lot of time together after her overdose, getting closer each time, entering into some kind of friendship but forgetting they could never be friends.
They were never just one thing, but friends were not even in their dictionary. Every moment they spent together felt like they were getting closer to an inevitable end, or to a crashing start. They both knew it, but none of them wanted to admit it was more likely an end than it was a beginning.
"He must have been really in love with you. How would you let that man go?" the interviewer asks, "I would never allow that to happen."
"Yeah, I didn't want it either," she replies.
And she prays Billy will be busy on whichever Friday this airs, so he won't have to listen. She prays that their mutual friends will be kind enough to not mention it, ever. She hopes Camila doesn't know about any of this, that she thinks it is about some random dude she has met in the past year.
What she doesn't know is that not only will he know, but he also has an interview set to take place. And we will talk, just like she did.