NOVEMBER 18th, 1993, NEW YORK CITY, NY
"THIS. IS. SO. cool!"
Reagan glanced back over her shoulder at Robbie, who was gaping wide-eyed at his surroundings with a plain look of astonishment. If he kept swiveling his head around so much, she was sure that it was going to come unhinged from his neck.
"It is, right?" she smiled, though the hustled mysticism of being backstage had lost its appeal to her years ago. There were usually way too many people crammed into the tight space, and it wasn't uncommon for at least one bickering match to break out. She'd learned quickly enough that there was nothing intriguing about being surrounded by a bunch of tired roadies.
"I told you it was fun," Kate said proudly. "It was even cooler at the VMAs."
Kate hadn't wasted a moment filling Robbie in on all the glamour of her night out at the awards show. Robbie had processed it all with a mixture of awe and jealousy, amazed that his older sister had actually dipped her toes into the world of celebrities. He was pissed that he hadn't been invited as Kate had, but Reagan carried a good feeling that she was making it up to him that night.
"Is there a restroom around here?" Kimberly asked impatiently, shifting Gracie from one arm to the other. She hadn't allowed anyone else to hold her since their flight had landed at JFK the day before.
"Yes, Mom," Reagan said with an annoyed eye roll. "Can you hold it? I'm trying to find Dave."
"It's not for me," Kimberly said, filling her voice with taken offense. "Gracie is potty training, remember? I want to encourage her to use the toilet."
"I've got the potty training under control, thanks."
"You say that now until she never gets the hang of it!" Kimberly tsk'd and smoothed her hand down Gracie's soft cheek. "I'll help you, sweetheart. We'll have you out of diapers in no time."
"Kim, let Reagan parent her child," Richard called out. He walked up behind his wife, each of his hands grasping one of the twins'. In his button down shirt and pressed slacks, he looked very debonair, and Reagan felt herself smiling.
"I'm trying to help!" Kimberly argued. "Plus, it will be good to put her down. My arms are killing me."
"She can walk, you know," Reagan said forcefully. In Kimberly's mind, Gracie was royalty enough to never have to use her own two feet to get anywhere.
"And what if she gets trampled by one of these men carrying equipment? Absolutely not!"
"Kill me now," Reagan muttered under her breath.
"There's Dave!" Robbie cried excitedly, thrashing his finger forward as he bounced on his toes. "I see him!"
"Come on," Reagan said. She took her brother's hand and started towards Dave, Kate slipping next to her and joining the walk.
Reagan wasn't sure if it was a good idea to leave Kimberly and Richard to fend for themselves in the back of Sony Music Studios, but if they wanted to, they could follow. By her estimations, they would. If they didn't, Kimberly was bound to start lecturing one of the sound tech guys on proper safety restrictions in the presence of a toddler.
"Hey," Reagan said. Her greeting brimmed with relief as she approached Dave, who was pacing in a tight circle. When he saw her, he didn't smile, but instead swallowed with difficulty. The muscle in his jaw jumped up and down.
"Hey," he replied. He looked at Kate and Robbie and forced a meek smile. "Hey, guys."
"Dave, this is so cool man!" Robbie enthused. "Thanks for inviting us! I can't wait to tell my friends about this, they're gonna' be so jealous."
"Anything for a fellow drummer," Dave said, smiling wanly. Robbie didn't notice the lackluster in his expression, beaming up at Dave with innocent obliviousness.
"Loving the turtleneck," Kate said teasingly, pinching the sleeve of Dave's dark blue long-sleeve with a smile.
"Thanks," Dave returned. Reagan noticed that the onslaught of attention was bothering him. His eyes darted left and right, as if he were trying to detect the nearest escape away from the spotlight that her family was pressing down onto him.
That behavior was not like him at all.
"Dave," Richard said cheerfully, coming up to join them. "This is really something. We can't thank you enough for having us tonight."
"It was nothing," Dave murmured. Reagan frowned in concern. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"It's so hot back here," Kimberly piped in, appearing at Richard's side with Gracie still clasped against her. "Will it be cooler in the audience?"
"Mom," Reagan snapped. It might have been Dave's own tension that was feeding into her, but she suddenly wanted to kick Kimberly in both of her shins — after she had removed Gracie from her arms, that is.
"Don't worry, it will be," Dave assured. "I know it's a little crowded back here. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Reagan interjected. "She can wait."
Another addition was made to their group when Krist walked up, looking equally as tense as Dave did, though he wore it better. When he spotted Reagan's family, an easy, if not painfully small, smile appeared on his face.
"Hey there," he said. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm —,"
"Krist," Robbie supplied eagerly. Krist raised his eyebrows and flashed Robbie an amused grin.
"Yeah," he said. "That's me."
"Can I talk to you?" Reagan whispered urgently into Dave's ear. He returned a tight nod.
"Krist, will you show Reagan's family around? Maybe point out where their seats will be?" Dave asked.
"Ooh, that will be so cool!" Robbie gasped. "Can you, Krist?"
"Definitely. So, you like to drum?" Krist queried, looking down at Robbie from his staggering height.
Robbie's eyes rounded with adoration. "Yeah, I do."
"You guys can follow me," Krist said. "I'll give you the grand tour, free of charge. I've been told I'm a great tour guide."
Kimberly looked hesitant to follow Krist, scrutinizing his lean, overbearing stature with suspicious eyes, but Richard prodded her in the back. They followed after Nirvana's bassist with Robbie scampering in the lead, struggling to keep up with Krist's long strides. Kate hadn't left with them though, choosing to remain by Reagan.
"Kate," Reagan said. She jerked her chin in their family's wake.
"I can't stay with you?" Kate pleaded.
"Go. Please. I need a moment."
Kate huffed and stomped off, crossing her arms irritably as she spun away. Reagan zeroed in on Dave once they were alone, placing one hand on his arm and peering into his eyes, trying to read his emotions through his brown irises.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Dave's jaw clenched again and he looked around, observing the isolation of where they stood, away from everyone else before he spoke.
"Kurt," he said. "He's fucked up. Beyond fucked up. They've tried everything to get him off the couch, but he's withdrawing and it's got him all messed up."
"Oh god," Reagan mumbled. Hopefully Krist wasn't leading the Abners in the direction of Kurt's dressing room.
"I don't wanna' do this," Dave exclaimed. He tugged on his turtleneck, relieving the strain of its snugness around his neck with a pained look. "I'm not fucking doing this. I'm not going out there to watch us all make asses out of ourselves."
"It'll be okay," Reagan said. The reassurance came too easily to her, so easily that it couldn't pass as the truth. Even she knew that she was lying to herself.
"I want to go home," Dave said. There was something about the way he said it, with so much distress in his voice, that made her ache for home. She imagined them together, lounging on the couch and laughing with Gracie wedged between them and the ache only intensified.
"I know you do," she whispered. "I know."
"I'm sorry I brought you here. This is gonna' be a shit show. I shouldn't have told you to bring your family."
"Do you want me to talk to him?"
Dave sucked in a deep breath and shook his head so quickly that his hair blurred around his face.
"Don't bother," he said. "He's on a different fucking planet right now. He's being a jerk. There's nothing to say."
"I want to help, so let me."
"You could help me by making sure that I don't walk outside of this damn building, hail a cab to the airport and quit."
Reagan took a step closer, pressing her hands onto both sides of Dave's face. She would have kissed him, but there were too many bystanders, and she didn't think that was what he needed. Physical affection could wait. What he really needed was the pep talk of the century.
"It's going to be fine, Dave," she said sternly. "He'll sober up. I'll make him. You guys are going to go out there, play the hell out of this show, and it will be fine. Do you understand?"
He made a face, but nodded stiffly between the grasp of her hands.
"Well," she said with surprise. "That was easy. I thought I was going to have to shake you, or something. Or maybe slap you."
"I'll believe anything at this point," he quipped back dryly. "And hey, if our careers go down the toilet after tonight, we could always go to Virginia. Or I'll start my own band and you can sign us."
"That," Reagan smiled, "would be a very biased decision on my part."
"Funny, because I'm pretty sure that you're a little biased towards me."
She straightened his turtleneck smartly, just the way she imagined Ginny doing it, and patted his shoulder.
"You look good," she complimented. "You can't take that shirt off on stage, though. No shirtless drumming tonight."
"That's the whole point, isn't it? We're supposed to be 'toned down. Unplugged and stuff."
"Going off the way you look, I'd say it will be very much toned up."
Dave rolled his eyes at her cheesy remark and scoffed. "Ha ha. Stop it, stop it, I can't breathe, I'm laughing so hard," he deadpanned.
"Trust me," she said, kissing his cheek delicately. "It's going to be alright."
He took her hand and squeezed it. "For the sake of my job and our well-being, I hope you're right. I might be working at a Safeway after this."
Reagan grabbed the purse hanging from her shoulder by its strap and unzipped it. After a moment of digging, she pulled out a red hair tie and held it up in front of Dave's face.
"Pull it back," she suggested, nodding at his hair. "That'll really make the look."
He accepted the rubber band and looped his hair through it, gathering it all into a low ponytail that hung at the base of his neck.
"Do I look like I hang out at Starbucks and recite old English poetry?" he asked.
Reagan laughed. "A little. But it works."
She reached into her bag again and closed her fingers around a pack of Marlboros. She didn't smoke much anymore, but it was handy having them for Dave, who couldn't resist lighting up when Gracie wasn't around. He exhaled a sigh of relief when she waved the box in the air, slipping a cigarette out and handing it to him.
"Thanks," he said gratefully.
"No problem."
Reagan dipped her hand into her purse once more for a lighter and lit the cigarette herself, cupping the flame as Dave leaned in to catch the light.
I'm really babying him tonight, she thought, clicking the lighter off and tucking it away.
After he took a few puffs from the cigarette, inhaling each cloud of smoke with hunger, she bestowed another kiss on his cheek and he finally smiled. It was a real smile, the first one she'd seen out of him that night. They stood there staring at each other like that for thirty seconds before Reagan rolled back her shoulders and squared them with conviction.
"Alright," she said confidently. "Where's Kurt?"
"Wait, what?"
"I'm going to go talk to him. I'll electrocute him with an amplifier cord if I have to."
"Reagan, I wouldn't," Dave began, clutching at her arm as she started to walk off.
"Why not?" she inquired impatiently. "The last time I talked to him, he took it well. I can do it again."
"Courtney's in there," Dave said, hinting at an implication of warning.
"I don't give a damn."
She continued her march towards Kurt's dressing room, weaving through a maze of bodies. Her efforts to raise Kurt's spirits had proven to be successful in the past, but she was deliberating on trying a new method of getting through to him.
Dave was upset. Krist was upset. She was sure that the entirety of the Nirvana camp was upset.
This time around, she would be firm with Kurt. Not firm enough to hurt his feelings, but she was determined to be the one to snap him out of it. He needed to, not just for himself, but for his band mates. She wouldn't make him prove himself to anyone else, but the least he could do was fulfill an obligation to his friends, friends that he'd been through everything with.
Reagan thought herself to be good at snapping people into shape. She'd always approached any of her scoldings to Kate and Robbie with fairness, knowing that all it took was one hard, good look into their eyes to make them straighten up. She planned on doing the same to Kurt. If he had listened to her once, then he was going to listen again.
There was no way of telling how seriously he'd take her while she was wearing a short, little black dress and an unfamiliar pair of heels, but she didn't intend on letting that stop her.
Reagan located the door that led into Kurt's dressing room and pushed it open without warning. Dave appeared behind her, panting slightly after having chased her all the way there.
She hadn't planned on witnessing what she was seeing now. How wrong, terribly wrong, she had been to contemplate whether or not she'd get through to Kurt when in retrospect, she should have been prepping herself for the sight of him looking so unmistakably like a stranger.
He was splayed out on the dressing room couch, his limp limbs hanging over the ends. The white of his skin was whiter than normal, blanched to the point of being almost ghostly, and Reagan detected a smidge of vomit clinging in his beard.
That must have been where the smell was coming from. Next to the couch was a pail, which Reagan didn't question the contents of. She already knew that Kurt must have casted up everything in his stomach that night.
He didn't even look up when she entered. He was too miserable for that, his head lolling and his eyelids barely managing to stay glazed open as he repeatedly wrenched his eyes shut, fighting a wave of nauseous pain.
It was nothing like the Kurt that Reagan had come to know over the years.
This was a stranger. A stranger who looked no different than the junkies that took refuge on seedy street corners, slumping over under the weight of their mind-numbing highs.
"Get out." Courtney whipped around from her hovering stance over Kurt, glaring furiously at Reagan. The water cup she was holding in her hand crunched.
"No," Reagan shot back.
"Reagan," Dave said uneasily. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she threw his hand off and charged forward.
She dropped down at the side of the couch, right next to Kurt's face, and touched her fingertips to his listless hand. It was surprisingly cold.
"Kurt?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
"Of course he's not okay!" Courtney yelled. She slammed the water cup down on a nearby table. "Are you blind?"
Ignoring Courtney, Reagan pressed on. "Kurt, talk to me."
He grunted and rubbed his right eye, letting out a sigh that inflated and deflated his chest like the dying breath of a balloon.
"We got him Valium. He'll be up in ten minutes, if everyone would just fuck off. He did the sound check earlier," Courtney said angrily.
"He's still withdrawing," Reagan snapped over her shoulder.
"You think I don't know that? You don't know shit."
"Back off, Courtney," Dave warned, adopting a severe tone to his voice when he addressed her.
Kurt mumbled and sighed again, attempting to prop himself up. "I'm scared," was all he said, the words ragged and torn, as if dragged over broken glass.
Reagan's face pinched with emotion and she grabbed his hand tighter. "We're all here for you. You can do this."
All at once, Reagan was being dragged to her feet in a blur of motion, feeling a hand claw its way into her back as she was wrenched upright into a stagger. And then Courtney was in front of her, so close that they were nose to nose, her red-lipsticked mouth pulled back into a sneer.
"Get the hell out," she hissed. "Leave. Right now."
"No!" Reagan snarled. "I'm trying to help him!"
Dave shot forward, one hand outstretched with intent to separate them, but Reagan stiff-armed him before he could get any closer.
No. No way was she going to let this happen. She refused to be steamrolled by Courtney for simply trying to do the right thing.
"You don't know shit about helping him," Courtney said, vitriol spewing in her voice. "When's the last time you were going through a withdrawal?"
"I want to talk to him. He wanted to talk!"
"You're not doing shit. Get the fuck out of this dressing room and go play house with your own husband."
"Fuck you," Reagan spat, far past the point of stopping herself from lashing the curse directly into Courtney's face.
"Don't come in here pretending to care. All you've done is judge him —,"
"No I haven't! I've tried to help! But you keep getting in my way!"
"Guys," Dave began nervously, edging an inch closer to the quarreling women with an anxious look. Reagan defiantly ignored him. To her, he wasn't even there. The room had shrunken down to the proximity of containing only her and Courtney.
"What a bullshit excuse," Courtney laughed cruelly. "You've been judging him since the day this all started. You hide up in your happy little house with your happy little family and slander his name like he's worth shit to you."
She was backing Reagan against the table now, taking fierce steps that made their toes skim against each other. Reagan felt the small of her back hit the table as Courtney slammed one hand down upon it, locking Reagan in with no gap between them.
"You're fucking crazy," Reagan growled. "You're a crazy bitch."
"And you're an entitled cunt." Courtney took her pointer finger and wielded it directly at Reagan's chest, jabbing her with it hard enough to deliver a shock of pain throughout Reagan's body.
Reagan wasn't sure what happened next. Through some form of meaning, she did, but her brain didn't connect the signal to her hand as she suddenly grabbed the abandoned water cup and flung it forward, sending a slosh of ice water across Courtney's face.
She hadn't mean to do it. Or maybe she had. She didn't know which it was as she stood there, watching it happen in slow motion.
Courtney gasped and spluttered, jumping back reactively with her hands held up to her face. Her eye makeup was already smearing, trickling in watery black paths down her cheeks.
Reagan froze, holding the empty cup in her hand before dropping it numbly to the floor.
"You fucking bitch!" Courtney shrieked. She lunged at Reagan, but Dave was one step ahead of her, intercepting her path as her hands curled into talons that were headed for Reagan's throat.
Dave dragged Reagan out of the way, throwing her behind him and stopping Courtney with the brunt of his forearm. It didn't do much against her fisted blows.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Knock it off!"
Kurt was groaning on the couch, aware of what was happening but struggling to find the strength to get up.
"You stupid, disgusting, little —," Courtney rambled on in a screech, squabbling against Dave in attempt to reach Reagan.
"Go to hell," Reagan scowled from behind Dave's shoulder.
It took all the strength that he had, but Dave managed to wrestle Reagan out of the dressing room before Courtney could tackle her to the ground. The others that had been lingering inside flitted to Courtney, holding her back as she thrashed and shrieked, screaming expletives at a volume that could have jarred the entirety of New York City.
With his hand tightened around her arm, Dave hauled Reagan far away from the dressing room and into a darkened corner by the stage. Heads turned as they stalked by, everyone's eyebrows raised and their murmurs beginning to rise.
"What was that?" Dave demanded. He was a cross between panicked and angry, staring dumbfounded at Reagan as he jerked her in front of him.
"I'm sorry," Reagan breathed. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, her chest heaving. "I couldn't stop. She was making me so mad, I just —,"
"You threw water on her!" Dave cried out in a stricken, panicky whisper.
"Maybe she'll melt," Reagan replied acerbically.
Dave clapped both hands to his face, muttering to himself behind them.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . she's not going to let that go. This is bad. This is so fucking bad."
"I'm sorry, okay? I took it too far. I fucked up. But she made me do it."
"I'm not asking for an apology," Dave said. "I'm saying that you chose the wrong time and place to do that."
"So you agree that it was necessary?"
"Yes. But did it have to be right now? Tonight?"
"Did you hear what she was saying to me?" Reagan demanded. "She was out of line!"
Dave let out a sigh that was intermingled with a groan, leaning his head forward until it hung. Reagan pursed her lips, hating that she'd upset him, but simultaneously relishing in having delivered the swift punishment that Courtney so deserved.
"I knew you were scrappy," Dave grumbled. "But that scrappy? Enough to fuck with her, of all people?"
"I had to make it out alive of all those night clubs in Olympia somehow, didn't I?"
"Let's just be grateful that it wasn't a punch."
"It almost was. Trust me, you don't want to be on the receiving end of one of my punches."
"Alright Muhammad Ali, settle down."
Reagan stood there, replaying the series of events that had let up to that damning moment. She didn't regret it, but at the same time, she didn't quite feel like paying for it either. It had been so hard though, waiting like a sitting duck while Courtney had belittled her with all those false accusations. Reagan's blood had been boiling from the get go, hot and flaring inside of her like a lit firework. All it had taken was Courtney touching her to set it off.
"We're really screwed, aren't we?" she asked, voicing her thoughts aloud.
"Maybe," Dave muttered. "Like I said, she's not gonna' forget that, and Kurt is going to come to her defense. You know how he is."
"Even after she said what she said? And when she touched me?"
"I don't know. That's his wife. What do you expect?"
"I am sorry," Reagan said. "I didn't mean to make things harder for you. I never wanted any drama, but she got to me. She pushed me to do it."
"I know. That's why I can't be mad at you. Even if this does blow up in our faces."
"Um, guys?" Kate sidled her way into Dave and Reagan's hidden niche, staring questioningly at them both. "Why is Courtney screaming in the dressing room right now?"
Dave and Reagan exchanged a look. Dave coughed into his hand awkwardly and Reagan wrapped her arm around Kate, trying not to let her guilt crack through her placid exterior.
"I'll explain later," she said.
"Are you sure? Because she's telling everyone that she wants to kill you."
"Later. I promise."
"Ooookay. Well, uh, Krist said that we can go to our seats now and get settled. Are you coming?"
Reagan looked back at Dave and he stared back warily.
"I'll handle it," he insisted. "Go."
She nodded and led Kate away by the waist, hurrying past the curtains and down the stairs leading into the audience with Courtney's muffled screeching still ringing in her ears.
"What the hell happened?" Kate marveled, stifling a laugh as she struggled to take a backwards peek in the direction of the screaming.
"It's a long story," Reagan muttered, wondering if in a matter of minutes, she had singlehandedly been the one to break up Nirvana for good.