OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

fifty-three.

SEPTEMBER 13th, 1991, SEATTLE, WA

FRIDAY ROLLED AROUND promptly, which also rang in the event of Nirvana's release party for their upcoming album. Only naturally would it fall on a Friday the thirteenth. When Dave had gently shaken Reagan awake that morning, reminding her that they had to get ready, she'd felt caught in the middle of a very fantasy-like daze.

She was standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting with her bangs and attempting to get them to lay flat in Dave's bathroom when he appeared behind her, donning a black t-shirt with the words "Alternative Radio" emblazoned over the left breast.

"Ready?" he asked eagerly. She looked herself over steadily, wondering how in the world she was supposed to know how to dress for a record release party. Her hair was down and she wore no makeup. Once again, she and Dave were dressed similarly — jeans and a t-shirt. How typical of them both.

"Yeah," she answered. "Uhm, what is Shelli wearing?"

"I'm not sure. You look great though," Dave beamed, never one to allow the girl he loved to feel bad about her own looks. He linked his arm around her waist and lead her out of the bathroom, practically skipping along the way. He'd been riding on cloud nine since they had woken up. If anything, he deserved to be in that special place, at least until the high of triumph wore off, if it ever actually would. He was attending his own album release party with his soon-to-be wife. That was enough reason to excite just about anyone.

"You know, I forget sometimes that you do this for a living," Reagan said as Dave locked the apartment door behind them and they stepped out into the brisk September chill. A light gust of wind rolled through the air, causing her to brace herself against the sensation.

"What do you mean?"

"I dunno.' It's just like, one night we're sitting on your couch eating takeout and now we're off to a release party for the album that you drummed on. It's a little weird. But a good weird, I think."

Reagan was being entirely honest with Dave as she tried to explain her bewildered perception over his success. It was easy to forget that he led a separate life in his band behind a drum kit when she was so used to doing mundane things with him. And on top of that, she'd never been to any kind of release party for anything. All the musicians that she'd ever known or been involved with had never made it out of the underground venues frequented by punk bands.

"You want to know something really crazy?" Dave began, taking her hand as they walked down the stairs of the building. "You could have easily been in my place right now after that one night when you played for the band."

Reagan snorted out an amused laugh. "Me? No way. I was never an option. I was just filling in. How many times have we been through this?"

"How many times have we been through that you're a great drummer, you mean?"

"You're just buttering me up right now."

They kicked off their short drive into the city and met up with Kurt and Krist at the KXRX radio station where Nirvana was set to begin a series of radio interviews before the real party began. Reagan was relieved when she saw Shelli's crop of jet black hair poke out from behind Krist's tall frame.

"Here comes the bride . . ." Krist belted out in a deep voice, singing goofily out of the tune as Reagan exited Dave's car.

She smiled bashfully and aimed to sock Krist in the shoulder, though their height difference resulted in her weak right-hook knocking into his gangly elbow.

"A little birdie told me that you two are soon to be wed," Krist grinned. "And you've procreated too! Congratulations!"

Shelli pushed past Krist with a joyful squeal and enveloped Reagan into a hug. "I'm so happy for you," she gushed. "You'll love the married life. And you're going to make a great mom."