YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT // Kurt Cobain

Chapter 1

Los Angeles, CA

June 18, 1989

I was literally considering going to college for nursing. I didn't even like nursing. This was what my world had come to. No one was listening to my music, and I barely had any money to support myself or my boyfriend, Nate.

He had been getting pissed at me recently, because he was practically the only one paying the bills. He knocked some sense into me about needing to get a job, and that I couldn't make a living off of working at Rhoda's Cafe forever. Serving coffee and scones wasn't exactly the job of a money maker. Neither was music.

So here I was, sitting on my couch in my small apartment contemplating med school when my phone rang. I flopped my head onto one of the throw pillows, ignoring the blaring noise of the phone which was assaulting my ears. I heard the front door unlock, open and close as Nate walked into our apartment.

Nate worked in business, selling some sort of hippie health vitamins. He'd been trying to persuade me to try them for months, but my horrible carbohydrate-based diet and caffeine addiction simply negated any of the benefits that the vitamins contained.

"E! Phone!" I heard Nate yell, and I groaned, sitting up and running my hand through my dark brown hair. My hair always seemed to be full of endless knots. It would've helped if I could find my hairbrush.

"E! The fucking telephone!" I rolled my eyes, trudging through our apartment to the phone, which was still ringing with no avail. I reached to pick it up and put it to my ear, wrapping the cord around my finger.

"Hello?" The voice of my manager, Freddie, came through on the other end of the line. "Erin! You wouldn't believe it, you're going to love me."

"What do you mean? Wouldn't believe what? What's going on?" I felt the anticipation crawling onto my fingertips that held the phone. I was damn near ready to drop it.

"I swear, this is going to change your life."

"Just tell me what the fuck is happening!" I exclaimed, and I heard Freddie chuckle.

"Hometown has an opportunity to go cross-country!" I literally dropped the phone then.

"Erin, we can barely afford to live here, can you at least try to keep our phone in decent shape? Jesus," I heard Nate from the room away, and I muttered an "Mmhmm" before picking up the phone to resume my conversation with Freddie.

"Wait, let me make sure I heard this correctly... we're going on tour?"

"Yeah. Well, basically. Probably. Most likely. You and the rest of the band would have to go sign a couple contracts and shit to make it serious, you know? You can't go saying yes then ditching them halfway through, that's just not right." I nodded, taking all the information in.

"Yeah, that's reasonable. Tell them to meet us at the studio." There was silence for about five seconds, and I thought the phone got disconnected.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone, and I still heard Freddie breathing. "What's wrong?" I pressed, and Freddie exhaled. "They're this band called Nirvana, and we'll have to make a long trek to Redneckville. The lead singer of the band is lazy as all hell and wants us to travel all the way to Log City."

I felt my eyebrows furrowing across my forehead. Was he talking about yee-haw rednecks? "Wait, what do you mean Redneckville and Log City?" I realized I had wrapped the cord so far around my finger that it was turning purple. I released it from my hand and watched it cascade to the floor like Rapunzel's hair.

"Aberdeen. Washington. Suicide Central." It finally clicked. We'd have to take a road trip.

"Well, guess we'll have to get ready to go, shall we?" I smirked, and I heard Freddie physically smiling. "That's my girl. I'll let the others know, and we'll be ready to leave by tomorrow at five, it's a seventeen and a half hour car ride. We'd be lucky if we get there by ten at night."

"Alright, see you then," I waved, then put my hand down, realizing that Freddie couldn't see me waving.

I really needed to check myself before I went anywhere. Get some caffeine in me, maybe smoke a joint or ten, and start packing.