OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

eighty-six.

SEPTEMBER 25th, 1993, NEW YORK CITY, NY

       "LOOK WHO SHOWED up."

Reagan's shoulders locked and the muscles in her neck tightened into a thick, ropey tautness. Her body was already strained from holding Gracie, who was getting much too heavy to be held all the time, but nothing brought out a more visceral response in her than the sound of Courtney's voice.

She didn't turn around to face Courtney, instead allowing the tall blonde to sidle up next to her in the already cramped backstage area next to the Saturday Night Live stage. She would have rather talked to anyone else, even the sweaty SNL crew that seemed to talk exclusively in grunts and mutters as they shuffled equipment around. Even a mere five minutes with Courtney exhausted Reagan, and she was already plenty exhausted.

Her tongue felt dry as sandpaper and damn near close to swelling from the amount of talking she'd done that day. If a phone had been close in range, then it was glued to her ear, balanced precariously between her cheek and shoulder while she'd managed Gracie with her other arm. People across the country had been scrambling to reach her, phoning from all the way back in Seattle. Despite being married to one of the most celebrated musicians of the decade, Reagan couldn't discern how she was the one being called upon left and right.

The word 'vacation' was not one that could be applied to her job. Her colleagues at DGC had been ringing her all day alongside the two bands that she had picked up within the first few months of her promotion. She was close to telling them all to screw off, though she knew it wasn't possible when she'd been given charge of the matters that they were calling with. The only silver lining to it all was that she'd niftily secured time away to go watch Dave play SNL, his second time doing so.

Kate and Chris had been calling too, though with much less of an imperative need. Kate only wanted to chat after the long gap of not being able to see her sister, between her constant studying for exams and attempt to keep a social life. Chris, of course, was yearning for fun stories about Reagan and Dave's venture into New York again. There had been none to supply. If Chris thought that hanging around Nirvana was still the same lighthearted experience that it had once been, she was wrong.

At least Ginny was there. She'd come to see Dave and spend time with Gracie, and probably Reagan too, as she had latched at Reagan's side and tended to her every will and whim. Talking with Ginny was alright, though, in comparison to the other mind-numbing conversations that Reagan had had. Talking to Ginny didn't fuel Reagan's pounding headache and Ginny always knew when to taper off softly, flashing Reagan a smile to signal that she didn't have to wind herself any longer.

Upon thinking of Ginny, Reagan started to wonder where in the world Dave's mom was when she really could have used her company then and there as a diversion from Courtney.

"I have a tendency to do that," Reagan said scathingly, adjusting Gracie on her hip. "Show up for my husband, I mean."

"If you're insinuating that I don't show up for mine, then take it back before I take scissors to that lovely mane of hair," Courtney answered. She smudged her pinky finger along the line of her bottom lip, removing a streak of misplaced lipstick before smiling with false sweetness.

Yeah, you show up for him, Reagan thought. You're always freaking there.

"I wasn't insinuating anything."

"Right." Courtney let out a snort and rolled her eyes. She fixated onto Gracie, reaching out to tickle her with an exaggerated coo. When Gracie drew back and buried her face into Reagan's neck, Reagan had to bite the insides of both lips to keep from laughing.