OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

sixty-one.

She threw her heavy suitcase in the backseat, not even minding if it knocked into Nic's lap on the way in. She jumped into the seat beside him and slammed the door shut, feeling her body jerk backwards as the driver hit the accelerator.

"You speak French?" she asked breathlessly, prying stray pieces of hair from her mouth and eyes.

"Barely," Nic grimaced. "I just try to know the basics of whatever language according to country that we're in."

"Right," Reagan nodded, still trying to catch her breath and gather that she had amazingly made it safely into Nic's hands. It was odd to think that only twenty minutes earlier, she'd been filing off of the plane.

"Listen, I don't mean to sound like a dick, but where the hell were you?" Nic inquired exasperatedly. "The show started thirty minutes ago. I almost left you here."

"I know," Reagan said, wincing in apology. "My flight got delayed and I couldn't find a pay phone in the airport in Paris without getting lost. I'm sorry."

"You ever use a map before?"

Reagan frowned at Nic's sarcasm. She was fully prepared to insult him right back, having been pushed far past her limits of stress that day. The last thing that she needed was for one of the Nirvana roadies to undeservedly bite her head off.

"I'm sorry," Nic said, offering his apology when he saw the intimidating look on Reagan's face. "I'm just wondering how the hell they're getting on without me right now. You know that they throw those guitars around like confetti, right?"

"You're not the only guitar tech that they have."

"They've got Earnie, but you never know with those guys. Hey, let's just hope that Dave didn't have a pre-show seizure thinking your plane blew up or something."

"You didn't call him to tell him what was going on?" Reagan abruptly demanded, widening her eyes at the thought of Dave having waited for her with no answer as to why she never showed up.

"I forgot the number to the venue."

"You ever use a phone book before?"

"Funny. Now can you please put on your seat belt? I don't want Dave to come for my neck if we crash and you fly out the window."

Reagan rolled her eyes but did as she was told, strapping the seat belt across her chest as the car navigated through the narrow French streets. She wasn't in the least bit jittery to see Dave, mostly because all her anxiety had been spent on actually arriving to Rennes. Nonetheless, she still envisioned his smiling face while looking out of the car's window into the dimly lit night. The image was enough to make her heart bound restlessly in her chest, pulling her like the magnetism of a compass to where they would reunite once more.

She supposed that as she stared out the window, she should have been reveling in the fact that she was in a whole different country. It was hardly possible when Dave occupied a bigger space in her mind than sightseeing did.

When they finally pulled up to the backside of the venue, Nic waved Reagan off and grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

"Go on inside," he instructed. "I'll grab this and meet you in there."

She pulled her coat tighter around her chest and hurried from the car to the venue's backdoor, relieved when a security guard pulled it open readily for her.

"Thanks," she said. As soon as Reagan was inside the shadowy backstage area, her ears were met with a familiar barrage of guitars and drums. Directly ahead of her was the opening to the stage, spilling bright white light that shone on the faces of the crowd. She could see Krist's willowy frame, his back to her as he played in his usual stage right position. They were thrashing out the heavy culmination of 'Blew.'