OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

one-hundred-twenty-six.

FEBRUARY 25th, 2001, LOS ANGELES, CA

           "MOM! MOM!"

Gracie's shouts vibrated off of the walls in synchronization with the pounding of her feet down the stairs. Reagan almost dropped her cellphone right out of her hand, jumping at the sudden noise.

"Is that Gracie?" came Kate's crackling voice through the receiver as Reagan lowered the phone away, turning her focus from the stovetop she was standing over to her daughter.

"What is it, G?" she demanded. Between nearly dropping her phone into the pan of stir fry she'd been monitoring and feeling her heart practically burst from her chest, she was thoroughly curious to know what had gotten Gracie so riled up.

To warrant her shouting, it'd better have been a fire.

"Dad's here," Gracie said, rounding her blue eyes into larger than life spheres. "Again."

"He's having dinner with us."

"Again?!"

The exclamation wasn't made only by Gracie. Reagan could hear the tinny sound of Kate's shock through her Nokia, still lowered to her side.

"Will you go open the door for him?" she asked, ignoring both of their clamors of incredulity. Dave had his own key, the same one he'd owned since they'd bought the place, but they were still performing a smoke and mirrors act for the benefit of Gracie's well-being.

Gracie nodded her head so quickly that it was a surprise it didn't come unhinged from her neck. Once she'd darted out of sight, Reagan went back to working on her stir fry and returned her phone to her ear.

"Can you believe she calls me 'Mom' now? I feel old," she said, hoping to glaze over the confrontation she knew Kate was waiting to launch.

"Reagan," her sister said firmly. "Dave's over for dinner? Again?"

"He's always been welcomed over here. You know that."

"For family dinners?"

"It's healthy for Gracie."

Reagan knew that Kate wasn't stupid. She was a fucking lawyer — it was her job to zero in past the veil of a lie.

"You told me at the wedding that you were taking things slow," Kate accused.

Thinking back to two weeks prior, Reagan recalled the conversation she'd had with Kate as she'd helped her into her wedding dress. It had been an awkward topic of discussion, with it being Kate's day rather than Reagan's to reel in even a shred of attention, but Kate had brought up Dave first as Reagan had buttoned up the back of her long, white gown.

She'd asked how he was and naturally, Reagan had assured her that he was fine. The casual response led to the inevitable though, and within seconds Reagan had confessed to what she and Dave had done in January.

Kate hadn't tried to hide how flabbergasted she was and it wasn't until Reagan had instructed her to shut up and enjoy her wedding day that she'd dropped the matter — for then, at least.

"Is that all you remember from your wedding?" Reagan asked. "It was a really beautiful day. I thought if you were going to remember anything, it would be how Mom didn't rip anyone a new asshole."

"Reagan," Kate said seriously, dropping her voice an octave. Reagan heard the front door open and Gracie's squeal, followed by Dave's cheery laughter. She clenched the spatula she was holding tighter in her hand.

"Don't try to lecture me Kate," she said, matching the authoritative tone that her sister had taken on. "I'm a grown woman. Older than you, too. What I do with Dave is my business."