SEPTEMBER, 1993, SEATTLE, WA
"I'M NOT TOURING. They can't make me."
Kurt's claim was made incredibly sound as he as he sat on Lindy's bed, his arms folded like a child and his nose turned up. He looked so convincing that Lindy almost believed he'd be getting his way — Nirvana wouldn't tour in lieu of the release of In Utero, which had shot up in the charts instantaneously. But even she knew better than that.
"I don't think you really have a choice," Lindy said gently with a frown. She was sitting on her bedroom floor, rolling socks over her feet as she prepared for work. Once again, she'd jumped on the opportunity to collect her hours for the week by taking shifts in the nighttime. She'd found that they made coping without Kurt easier; she never had to worry about sleeping in the darkness of her room without him. It had been too easy to get used to his thin body next to hers in the night.
On this night though, Kurt had elected to stay at her apartment even while she was away. Courtney was recording her upcoming album in Atlanta, where Frances too was staying with her nanny in tow. Lindy had privately thought to herself that Kurt would have much rather preferred to stay in his home, a place where he could shoot up without the consequence of watchful eyes, but he'd surprised her by asking to spend the night.
"It's because of the money, right?" Kurt said tersely. "You think I'd be stupid to turn down that much?"
"It's more like a 'you need the money' problem," Lindy explained tentatively. It was true. Kurt and Courtney's medical bills and funds owed to the courts over their custody battle with Frances had drained their checking account. At least, that is what Kurt had lamented to her.
"I hate this!" Kurt cried. He punched his fist into a pillow, slamming his body back on the bed. Lindy could have sworn that she saw tears glisten in his eyes. She knew that now was not the time to remind him that this was what came with being a rockstar.
"Just get through it, come back here, and then you can decide what you want to do," Lindy suggested, tugging on her white nursing shoes. By 'what to do,' she was indirectly referring to whether or not Kurt would end up deciding to stay in the music industry.
Kurt grumbled and looked out the window. Lindy eyed him, noticing that his hands were doing that funny thing in which they shook erratically, like someone was zapping electricity into his fingers. His face was stark white.
"You made a great album, Kurt," she told him, rising to her feet and putting her hands on her hips. This didn't make anything better. Kurt was tired of the compliments. They didn't matter to him anymore as they had in Aberdeen, when he'd starved for reassurance that his band was a great one.
"I get off at three in the morning. You'll probably be asleep but —,"
"I won't be asleep," Kurt said quickly. He sat up and grabbed Lindy's hands, guiding her towards him until he could clasp his palm around her neck and pull her into a kiss.
It was a kiss of deep and obvious longing. He parted her lips against his, rolling his tongue into her mouth and sliding his free hand down her chest in order to cup her breast over her shirt. As much as Lindy agreed with this kind of behavior, she felt a prick of suspicion.
Kurt wanted her, there was no doubt about that, but she had the strangest idea that he was replacing one kind of want with another.
"Work . . . got to . . . go," Lindy managed, attempting to escape Kurt's hold as he repeatedly kissed her lips, his version of a silent plea for her to ditch work and stay with him.
As she walked towards the door, she looked over her shoulder at him again. Just seeing him with her own two eyes did spectacular things to her insides. Kurt, despite his struggles, was so handsome that it seemed unreal God would gift a human man such beauty. One might guess that this kind of bestowment would make any man selfish, but Kurt was far from that. He was still the young boy from Aberdeen who knew not of how ethereal he really was.
