drain you | Kurt Cobain fanfic

11: Grrrl Riot

Living with Maya didn't last so long. In 1990, I got a job at a record company called Sub Pop, and I worked my way up to become an executive. Eventually, I moved to my own place downtown, but we still kept in touch.

And it's 1991 now. Early 1991.

Maya moved from her apartment to a house across town and decided to go back to school. She lives on campus at Evergreen State College and found a group of like-minded girls.

They call themselves Riot Grrrls.

"I swear, this is just like when we were in that group back in '88!" Maya told me once. "Except there's no men to belittle you!"

"Well, you should still be careful," I said. "Associating yourself with a group like that is dangerous."

Which is why I don't associate with them. I'd rather view the punk revolution from afar. From my office at Sub Pop.

One day, my boss, Bruce, approached me in my office.

He was also the co-founder of the label.

"Merci!" He greeted in sing-song. "Mr. Pavitt," I greeted back in the same way. "Come on," he said. "When are you going to call me Bruce?"

"Sorry, I must keep forgetting," I say. I don't forget. I just like messing with him, and he knows it. "What's up?" I asked.

Bruce leaned against my office desk and said, "You know, we've been keeping an eye on those Riot Grrrls. There's some buzz around their energy. I think there's potential there."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Potential for what?"

"For the next big thing, my friend," Bruce replied. "I want you to check out their scene, see if there's any talent worth signing. We could tap into something fresh and groundbreaking."

I hesitated, glancing at the posters of iconic bands on my office walls. "Alright, Bruce. I'll do some digging. But I'm not sure how well my style aligns with theirs."

He grinned. "That's precisely why I'm sending you. You've got an outsider's perspective. Besides, you've got an ear for talent. Now, go explore the Riot Grrrl movement and find us the next sensation."

As I left my office, the punk spirit from my past collided with the rebellious energy of the Riot Grrrls. I was walking home, and I didn't see where I was going. My thoughts were in a blur.

I bumped into a girl. She was very pretty, brunette, and had dark eyes. "I'm so sorry!" We both exclaimed in unison. "Are you alright?" The girl asked.

"Yeah, are you?" I asked. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied. "I'm so sorry," I said. "It's alright," the other girl replied. We laughed about the situation, and eventually, we began to hang out on the sidewalk.

"I'm Tracy. Tracy Marander," she replied.

"Merci Domingues," I said.

"Merci Domingues, nice to meet you," Tracy smiled. "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new in town?"

"Nah, I've been around," I replied. "Just caught up in the chaos of work, you know?" I gestured vaguely in the direction of Sub Pop.

Tracy's eyes lit up. "Sub Pop? That's cool. I'm into the music scene, too. I'm more of an indie rock fan myself."

We started talking about our favorite bands, and it turned out we had a lot in common. Tracy was passionate about the local music scene and had a keen interest in discovering new talent. As we walked and talked, I told her about my quest for a Riot Grrrl act.

"Actually," Tracy said, "there's this Riot Grrrl show happening tomorrow night at a small venue downtown. Wanna check it out?"

I hesitated, thinking about Bruce's task to explore the Riot Grrrl scene. "Sure, why not? Let's see what this Riot Grrrl thing is all about."

The Riot Grrrl concert was an intense experience filled with raw energy and unapologetic self-expression. The small venue pulsed with the beats of rebellious anthems, and the atmosphere was electric. Tracy and I found ourselves swept up in the passion of the crowd.

After the show, we ended up chatting with some of the Riot Grrrls. Their fervor for social change and equality was contagious, and I couldn't help but admire their commitment. Tracy seemed particularly drawn to the idea of empowering women through music.

As we mingled, I noticed a young and dynamic band that stood out. The lead singer, with fiery red hair, belted out lyrics that echoed defiance and liberation. Their name: "Femme Fatale."

Tracy nudged me. "Merci, I think we've found something special here."

As Tracy and I walked home, we talked about our personal lives.

"I gotta get home soon so my roommate doesn't worry," Tracy said. "It's nice he cares and stuff, but he should get a job."

"I used to have a roommate," I said. "Oh, yeah? How'd that go?" Tracy asked.

"She was, like, the original Riot Grrrl before any of these college kids were," I said. "Her name was Maya. We used to be in this group of traveling punks between '86 and '87. The life became too... dangerous for us to keep up."

Tracy looked at me with pity. I changed the subject. "So, how's your roommate?" I asked.

"I used to date him," she revealed. "Ooh, deets! Spill the beans!" I said. Tracy laughed.

"Okay," she said. "He's blonde and blue-eyed. We dated for three years and broke up almost two years ago. He still lives at my apartment because he's got nowhere else to go, and he won't get a real job. He just wants to be with that stupid band!"

"Sounds like a real catch," I said sarcastically. "What's his name?" I asked.

"Kurt," she said. I stopped in my tracks. I've never heard that name in a long time. Could it be the same Kurt from high school? No, it shouldn't be. I decided to let it go.

"Kurt, huh?" I replied, trying to hide the surprise in my voice. "Well, good luck navigating that situation. Relationships can be messy."

Tracy chuckled. "Tell me about it. But enough about my drama. What about you? Is there any special someone in your life?"

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about Maya and the distant memories of our punk adventures. "Not really. Work keeps me busy, you know? Discovering new talents, navigating the music scene."

Tracy gave me a knowing look. "You're married to your job, then?"

I smirked. "Guess you could say that. Music is my passion, my escape. Keeps me sane in this chaotic world."

As we reached Tracy's apartment, we exchanged numbers, promising to meet up again soon. Little did I know, the threads of my past were becoming tightly woven with the present, and the discovery of Femme Fatale might not be the only significant connection I'd make in this whirlwind journey through Seattle's music scene.