Work Text:
New York, June 1983
As Daisy stood in the middle of a crowded room, glass of Perrier tightly in hand, she wondered when parties had become so boring? Or maybe she was the one who had become boring? Either way, she knew she was not having fun.
She used to love a party. No, in fact, she used to be ‘the party,’ at the very heart of wherever people gathered for noise, distraction, and commotion. It used to be one of her very favourite ways to distract herself from her pain and loneliness. And besides that, Daisy really just fucking loved a good time. But since her sobriety, she’d struggled with big celebrations. She found people a lot less fucking interesting when she was sober and she was through trying to distract herself from her pain (well mostly, therapy could only do so much, and a girl had to have some vices). Added to that, there were temptations everywhere she turned.
She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Billy. No wonder he’d been such a grumpy bastard when they had been touring Aurora. Then she felt another pang, this time it wasn’t sympathy but just pain. He’d been out of her life for six years, more than twice the length of time he’d been in her life, and she still couldn’t think of him without an ache in her chest, right under her breastbone. As if he’d settled there permanently and was unwilling to let her find any peace or totally forget him.
Goddamn it! She wouldn’t let herself get morose over Billy goddamn Dunne when she was in the greatest city in the world, surrounded by beautiful, cool, well-connected people. There must be something more interesting to think about then her broken dreams. She found it more than a little ironic she was having this mental conversation with herself in a museum, a space meant to preserve history under glass for examination when she in fact wanted nothing more than to bury her own.
Daisy had found herself at this party quite by accident. She was in town for a month visiting Simone and Bernie and her visit happened to coincide with the launch of Halston’s new collection for JC Penny. The collection, Halston III, was a bit of a scandal. A designer of his name and status making an affordable collection for a discount retailer? You could hear the fashion press gagging at the words “Halston” and “affordable” being used in the same sentence.
But Daisy had always loved Halston. Saw him as a true artist and thought his work was quintessentially American. She’d always been a Halston girl. Pre-fame, when she was still only seen as an It-girl on the LA strip, the kind of girl powerful men wanted on their arm, that musicians wanted to fuck, and other girls wanted to be, Halston would dress her. She would be sent scores of outfits from the fashion house, all their coolest, latest looks. She’d always had a soft spot for both Halston and his company after that.
And she thought what he was doing was a bold risk and she really respected that. So when she’d received the invitation to the showing of his collection at her LA home and realized she’d be in town at the same time, she RSVPed yes, packed her favourites of his pieces, and made plans to attend.
Plus, she thought it would be a great event to take Bernie and Simone to as they were sure to see people they knew from the New York scene. The fact that Halston was queer was fairly well-known and fashion spaces were just generally more queer accepting and safer, so Daisy was hopeful the venue would be a good place for Simone and Bernie to be out together in public without the anxiety she knows that Simone sometimes still feels.
She looked across the room, and spots Simone looking luminous in a turquoise Halston jumpsuit. Daisy had loaned her from her own collection. Simone had tried to steal it numerous times when they lived together, and Bernie looking chic in a deconstructed suit, pants tailored and wearing a vest with nothing underneath but skin. They were arm in arm, Bernie looking at Simone with a light in her eyes. Daisy can only feel joy that her friend found such incredible love. She wonders to herself if she ever will and then thinks of green eyes before shaking that thought loose from her mind.
Her date tonight is an Oscar-winning director. Brian is in his late 40’s, had directed a series of small art-house hits before unexpectedly winning an Oscar for directing, five years prior. If Daisy had a type, which she doesn’t ('dangerous, sexy, emotionally distant' her mind chants), Brain would not be it. First off, while Daisy found him physically attractive, she knew he wasn’t what most people would deem attractive. The French had a term, ‘jolie laide’, which was meant to apply to women. It meant you were attractive without being pretty. There was no such equivalent for a man but if there was one, that would be Brain. His features individually were unremarkable but came together in his face in a way that just worked.
He was smart, confident, and undemanding. Best of all, he was so wrapped up in his career and interests that he was very relaxed in his demands of Daisy. They’d only been casually seeing each other a few weeks and it was fine. She found him a tad self-involved, and he had a tendency to bloviate but she was just relieved that he didn’t want much from her beyond sex and occasional company.
Since the disaster that was her last intense relationship with a man, many men had come and gone in Daisy’s life. Men had always come easy since she was thirteen. They always wanted to fuck her, to show her off, or both. They hadn’t wanted to know her or demand difficult things from her. But it seemed like recently, every man she met wanted more from her. Called her a cold-hearted bitch when she didn’t or couldn’t give it. They seemed to want to own her, but she feared she no longer owned her own heart. Feared that Billy Dunne put it in the front pocket of his favourite awful denim coat and dropped it on the ground somewhere between Solider Field and the airport to wherever he fucked off to. Now all that was left was a hollow facsimile. She sometimes felt like a paper mâché Daisy. If you tapped your finger against her hard enough, she’d collapse, and you’d realize nothing lay beyond the façade except air.
That’s why she like Brian- he never thought to tap, couldn’t see how hollow she was. Being with Brian was simple. For example, right now, he didn’t notice her distraction too wrapped up in a conversation with Halston’s head of marketing.
She fidgeted in her outfit. For tonight’s show, she’s chosen her favourite Halston number, a white, Grecian, drape dress. It was easy, elegant, and careless, all clean lines that Halston was known for. It draped her body perfectly, ending at a pool at her feet. She’d paired it with gold sandals, gold hoop earrings, and a single gold cuff at her wrist. To show off the angular neckline of the dress, Daisy had worn her hair up in a messy pile atop her head. A few auburn curls had gotten loose but she didn’t bother to adjust her hair figuring that Halston meant ease and elegance and the natural curls escaping added to her look. When Halston saw her, he kissed both her cheeks and said, “Daisy darling, I should have put you in the show. You look glorious in my designs as always. But then again, you make anything look glorious so it must be especially easy when wearing my art.” She’d just laughed good-naturedly.
That enjoyable moment was over an hour ago and since then she’d been floating through the party, vacillating between bored and annoyed.
Her eyes scanned the room. How could she be so bored in the Museum of Natural History? She was just about to excuse herself and head towards Simone and Bernie when something caught her eye, a trio entering the room. All three were beautiful, all obviously models, a man in the middle, flanked by two gorgeous women. Daisy looked at the charming grouping and was struck by something she just wasn’t sure what.
She was certain she recognized both women as having modeled in the show. The taller, darker model had skin the colour of ebony and a short afro. Her features were beautiful and exaggerated in a way that made her face stand out, she was tall and lean, wearing a red jumpsuit from a previous Halston collection and a stack of silver jewellery. The other woman was a willowy blonde, around 5’11. Her features were doll-like, and she was wearing a light blue Halston mini. Both women had their arms possessively entwined with the third male member of their trio.
He was beautiful, that was a given, especially when one considered the company he was keeping. He was tall around 6’2, lean, with dark short, wavy hair. His features were gorgeous, the patrician nose, at odds with a mouth too full and beautiful for a man’s face. He had a hero’s jaw, so sharp and defined you could cut yourself against it. In the centre of his chin was a dimple. It made Daisy want to scoff. She hadn’t trusted dimples since Billy Dunne. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes at such a distance but no doubt they would be lovely too.
But it wasn’t just his beauty that grabbed Daisy’s attention. They were in a room with some of the most beautiful people in the world after all, but his posture and his gait.
He walked with an easy grace, an undeniable confidence. He moved across the room with the bone deep assurance that he belonged, the kind of arrogance that comes from knowing you belong in every room and will be accepted everywhere. This man had never been uncertain of his welcome for one second of his life. It made Daisy want to grind her teeth, made her want to poke at him, knock him off balance. So not a model then? Who was he?
She told herself it didn’t matter and forced herself to focus on Brain who was still talking animatedly to the marketing director about the European rollout for his next feature.
Daisy found her eyes drawn back to the mysterious trio as they moved across the room, stopping to mingle for a few moments before moving on. They seemed to know everyone. He seemed to know everyone.
The marketing exec, Alexi, Daisy thinks his name is, must have noticed her gaze on the group, commenting, “Oh, that’s Isabella and Beverly from the show. They were fantastic tonight. And that’s Constantine with them. Of course, he’s with them. He always does get the best ones.” His tone was tinged with envy.
Daisy promised herself she wasn’t going to ask anything in response. She didn’t care enough to bother.
“Constantine?” Damn it! She felt immense annoyance at herself but honestly this was the first interesting thing that happened all night.
“Constantine Dimitri- you know, the shipping heir? His family made literal boatloads of money before the turn of the century. You must have heard of him. Well, maybe not. I think he’s more known in Europe because Formula-1 is so big there. They love their race car drivers! And you know, he dated that princess for a while.” At that little aside he stopped. Now Daisy knew his name, family history, and occupation. Not that she was interested at all.
Alexi excused himself saying he had to go over to say hello to the group and Daisy was left with Brian again. They finally made their way towards Simone and Bernie who looked deep in conversation with Basquiat. Finally, someone new and interesting Daisy thought.
She and Brian made their way to the group and enjoyed a wonderful conversation about the art scene in the city for the next thirty minutes. When Basquiat excused himself to mingle with other guests (he still hadn’t greeted Halston) Daisy found herself bored as Brian monopolized the conversation with Bernie and Simone going on at length about his next project. Supportive friends that they were, they listened and nodded at appropriate intervals.
Suddenly she felt as if someone was watching her. She looked around the room and spotted the culprit. It was him. He was closer than before and now she could make out that his eyes were a dark brown. He was still with his two companions. Now standing to the left of the blonde, while the two women were deep in animated conversation.
He wasn’t paying attention to them though, eyes seemingly focused on Daisy. He tilted his head and nodded in the direction of Brian as if to say, “I can’t believe he’s still talking.” Daisy was torn between amused and annoyed. His point was true, but she still felt protective of her date. She gave him a cold glare in return. He shrugged as if to say that he didn’t mean anything by it. She shook her head to tell him maybe so but it was still rude.
He shook his head and lowered his gaze for an instant as if feeling abashed for being rude though he never said a word aloud. He smiled in apology and acknowledgment, and Daisy felt the heart she long suspected of having gone missing stop completely.
Her reaction to that one moment of vulnerability was to become defensive. She didn’t want her heart to stop for anyone. Didn’t want the pain of being seen and abandoned by anyone ever again. Besides, she was just bored and imagining she felt some sort of connection with this stranger. This man she had never said one word to, this man who showed up at this party with two dates, this man who dated princesses and “always got the best ones.” No thank you, no. She was fucking done running towards danger.
She raised one eyebrow towards his two dates, gave him a look of cool dismissal and decided that was the end of it. She wanted to leave this party. She wanted to leave this party right the fuck now.
She casually mentions to Brian that they should think of heading home soon. He responds in the affirmative but he just needs to say a quick hello to a few more people. He thinks he sees an agent who works with an actor he’d love to eventually cast in something. Daisy nods understandingly while casing the room for exits.
Simone looked over, gently reaching out to touch Daisy’s arm a silent question, but Daisy tells her everything is fine. She can tell that Simone recognizes the lie.
“I think I just need a few minutes of quiet. It’s pretty crowded in here,” she states, and that part is true at least. Simone offers to go with her, Brian doesn’t. She heads off by her own, past the edge of the party into a quiet corridor off the main room where the event is being held.
She feels like a fucking mess. A man smiled at her and she felt the need to flee the room. No doubt her therapist will have a field day with this if Daisy ever bothers to tell him.
She takes a deep breath, counts to ten. Then she takes another deep breath. Feels calmer. Feeling ashamed by her own ridiculousness, she pulls the little notebook she always carries out of her purse and begins to write. “Welcome back fear/..”
She doesn’t have time to write what comes next when she hears a deep voice behind her state, “If you’re casing the joint, a word of advice, you’re never going to be able to steal the blue whale. I’ve thought about it, I mean who hasn’t? But it’s just impossible to crack, the transportation alone is the stuff of nightmares. And imagine finding a fence?” His tone is amused. He sounds like a man who walks through life perpetually amused.
She knows it's him without turning around. Knows it's him like she knows a perfect song lyric or the weight of her guitar in her hand. She really doesn’t want to turn around.
“Nope, not that ambitious. Plans are still in early stages yet. Just simply marking the exits.” She banters back without thinking and turns around.
Now that there isn’t the length of the room between them she gets the full force of his magnetism and it leaves her a bit dizzy. He is more gorgeous up close and she can see his brown eyes are flecked with gold.
“Are you lost?” She asks him. “I just came out here for a moment of peace which you know, you’re kind of ruining.” She tries to keep her tone even.
“I’m sorry. I saw you earlier and wanted to catch you to say I’m a fan of your work. You're amazingly talented and I thought your last album was brutally honest, you know, in the way the best art is.” It was a beautiful compliment, maybe one of the best ones she’d received about Cravings. She still wants to get the hell away from him. Her instincts feel like they are going haywire. She wants to move closer to him, she wants to get the hell out of this hallway.
“Thank you for the compliment. It is always nice to meet a fan,” she gives him a generic response. “Now, I should find my date and you should find both of yours. Have a nice night, Constantine.”
Now he smiles again, wide and beautiful and she sees her mistake. She’s used his name. Internally she sighs. She thinks he will let her brush past him without bringing it up, let her go without a fight.
“Well, fortunately they have each other for company. And the reason I even brought two dates is because they are best friends, and they couldn’t decide who got to go with me. To say nothing of me having a vote in all of this so they decided to split me like a timeshare in Boca Raton.” His tone is all self-deprecation.
She doesn’t know what to say to that. No, she does. “I’m sure you fought hard against this solution, protested bravely,” sarcasm dripping from every word.
“No, I didn’t,” he admits easily. “I’m used to women chasing me for my bank account.” He shrugs. “It’s not unusual. And it would be disingenuous if I wasn’t aware of how wealth plays into relationship dynamics. I’ve taken advantage of it time enough.”
Daisy is sort of amazed at his frankness, amazed they are having this conversation at all. “I didn’t think I would be having a discussion on sexual politics at this event, or I would have packed my Betty Freidan.” She can't help but release a giggle at the absurdity of this conversation.
He throws his head back and laughs heartily. She likes the sound of his laugh. Likes that he laughs with his whole body. “Me too, but you seem like the kind of woman who values honesty. I saw you and I wanted to talk to you. It isn’t more complicated than that.” He finishes with an elegant shrug.
“Well, this is quite a conversation.” She offers in response. “I really do have to go now. You know it’s considered rude to abandon your date.” Then she adds because she can’t help it, “And you’ve abandoned two.”
She moves to walk past him and they almost brush and Daisy feels sparks. She glides past but she turns around again.
“Why racing cars? And don’t say something dumb like you like fast things. We both know you aren’t stupid.” And Daisy doesn’t realize it till after but she is looking for something in his response. Something of that precious honesty they have carved out in this strange verbal exchange. Too many of her past relationships had been without it. She isn’t sure what this thing is but now that she’s here, she knows she needs something not forged on lies.
For the first time since they began speaking, he is serious. He is treating her question with thoughtful consideration. “When I was younger, my parents weren’t around much. They saw my brothers and me as obligations. In families like ours, you have heirs. It’s just what’s done but my parents never wanted to build their lives around us. We were shipped from nanny to nanny, to finally boarding school as soon as they could manage it. Don’t get me wrong, they love us but they didn’t want to raise us, not day to day. I used to do anything I could to get their attention. I pulled the riskiest, dumbest nonsense. I jumped out a tree when I was nine, broke both my arms. That summer was the best of my life they spent so much time with me.” Here, he flexes as if feeling that phantom injury.
“Anyway, at first all the risky theatrics was because of that but then I noticed something, I never felt freer than in those moments where I was letting go of the illusion of control. Jumping out of a plane, or skiing down a mountain, or racing a car, is the absolute freest I ever feel. When I am driving, the whole time I’m on the edge between total control and total freedom. I still love that feeling. I maybe spend a bit too much time chasing it.” He ends, tone soft.
Something about his vulnerability resonates with her. She offers him the same candor back. “The freest, the most myself I feel is on stage. Music liberates me.” She whispers.
“Well, it’s a good thing we both found the thing that frees us, Daisy Jones. Life is hard enough. You know, ‘man is born free but everywhere is in chains’ and all that.” Now his tone veers back to amusement as he quotes Rousseau at her and this is officially the strangest conversation she has ever had. He isn’t what she expected at all. (not that she had expectations)
Before she can turn to actually walk away, he leaves her with a final thought, “it’s a powerful thing to feel unbound.”
Now he is the one who walks away from her. But she somehow knows that this won’t be the last time they meet. She feels a certainty she has been missing for a long time. For the first time in ages, she feels the thrum of her beating heart, steady in her chest.