YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT // Kurt Cobain

Chapter 2

Aberdeen, WA

June 20, 1989

"Are we there yet?" I heard Greg, the drummer for our band whine from the back seat of our station wagon. I tapped my fingertips on the central console of the front seat as Freddie drove us down the never ending roads of northern California.

Greg Hernandez was the founder of the group. He and I were friends in high school. We met when I had first moved from New Jersey to California in my freshman year. The weather changes were quite drastic, given the fact that I'd moved from the northeast coast in the middle of winter to the southwest coast where it was practically summer.

Greg introduced himself to me on my first day, and we instantly bonded over Queen. He was quite tall, so he was perfect hugging material. He had told me in our junior year that he had a crush on me, but I told him I didn't feel the same way. And I didn't. Our friendship, however, was so strong that we didn't even feel bothered by the whole thing. We went back to normal in a matter of minutes.

My train of thought was cut off by Kevin Williams the guitarist snoring so loudly that he woke himself up. "Kevin! You made me mess up on my stick and poke! Now you owe me a real professional tattoo," our bassist, Thomas Perry frowned, wiping the India ink off of his ankle with his black tee shirt. His ankle had what looked like a mountain on it, but the skin itself was looking pretty red and gross.

"You should really get that cleaned off when we make our next stop," I suggested, and Freddie raised his eyebrows. "We aren't making any more stops. Our next one is going to be Aberdeen, so sit tight until then, behave yourselves like good boys and girls, alright?" I mimed zipping my mouth shut, and sat upright in my seat as the car ride continued.

We arrived at Denny's, a diner chain popular around the area, and finally got a chance to stretch our legs. We walked into the diner, and we immediately met a middle aged man with a beard but no hair on his head, who introduced himself as Nirvana's manager. He shook all of our hands, and we took a seat at an empty table.

"So, our plan is for you guys to sign here for this list of performances ranging from June 21st to October 13th, before Nirvana embarks on their first European tour later this fall. You guys would be opening for Nirvana, with an hour long set each night. Here's the paper regarding payments. You can look it over for a bit and discuss it if you'd like, but just get back to us within the next ten minutes or so," the manager told us, and he retreated back to his table where the rest of Nirvana was sitting. So they were there the whole time? We couldn't sit together and talk about this like adults? This was giving me vibes of elementary school.

There were three guys in the band, as I noticed. There was a guy with long, shiny black hair with the face of a fifteen year old, a guy with shorter brown hair and a short beard that didn't seem to be well-groomed, and a skinny blonde sitting between the other two that was currently biting his nails.

He immediately caught my attention. Or maybe I caught his first. All I knew was that he was staring at me, really intensely, and I felt incredibly violated. I felt as if his eyes were piercing through my soul. They were a scary electric blue.

His eyes were drawn away as his friend with the shiny dark brown hair nudged him, and he looked up to the really pretty, thin, blonde waitress that was holding a pot of coffee in her hand. He nodded and winked at her, and I heard her obnoxiously giggle with her really high pitched voice from across the diner. Would I even feel comfortable touring with this guy?

"Alright, I'm just going to sign, make things easier on you," Freddie decided, signing his initials "FM" in quite a fancy font all over the papers in the spots that were indicated for him. Well, it looked like a done deal in a matter of seconds, and the next five months of my life were dedicated to touring with the googly-eyed blonde.

Nirvana's manager took the papers from Freddie with a grin, stacking them together in his hands before placing them in a manila folder labeled "Summer Tour 1989." Then it really set in for me. I was going on tour with my band all summer. I needed to quit my job. Or at least apply for paid leave. But what if this tour made us so famous that I didn't need to work at Rhoda's Cafe ever again?

"Why don't we go meet the guys?" Freddie proposed. Kevin, Thomas, and Greg stood up to go greet the three guys that sat together on one side of a booth. I sat there for an extra few seconds and took a sip of my black coffee. I was starting to regret everything. A couple minutes later, after watching my band greet Nirvana, I saw Greg turn around to see me still sitting in our booth. He approached me and stuck his hand out for me to take. I stood up, and Greg put an arm around my shoulders. I looked across the diner to Nirvana's booth, and the blonde one's stare had turned into a glare.

"They're going to love you," he said, and I looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Judging on the way the blonde is looking at me, I'm not so sure." Greg chuckled, running his hand through his long black hair. "Kurt seems chill. From the few minutes I've spent meeting him, he seems harmless. Plus, there's no getting out of this now. It's only for a few months, and then you'll never have to see them again."

I exhaled a sigh of relief. Maybe these next few months wouldn't be so bad after all, if this meant that I wouldn't have to look the blonde guy in his creepily blue eyes again. "Although, on second thought," Greg pondered, and I looked back up at him warily. "After we tour, we'll probably stay in contact. Maybe go on tour again. We have similar music styles, and they say that the crowds will love us. Nirvana could probably take us really far."

"You're right," I heard a voice say, and my head whipped around to see Kurt standing in front of us. His eyes were even creepier when I was closer to him, and I was immediately intimidated. "Can I help you?" I scoffed, and Kurt's eyebrows raised on his forehead. He cleared his throat.

"Jesus, girl, nice to meet you too. Kurt Cobain. Pleasure." He stuck his thin hand out to shake mine, and I took it, giving it a firm shake. I tried to pull my hand away, but he held my hand in his for an abnormally long time. I didn't want to say anything, but this was getting really weird, really quickly. He smiled, and for a second, I forgot that he was staring me down a few minutes before.

"Hey, man, you can let go of her now," Greg muttered, and Kurt released my hand from his grip. He put his hands in his pockets, smiling at the two of us. "So are you guys together, or-"

"We're just friends," I cut him off, and he nodded in understanding, placing a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Good. Romance between band members is so fucking mainstream, man."

I looked up at Greg, who looked incredibly embarrassed. I turned to face Kurt, who had a smug look on his face. This was going to be a long five months.