SEPTEMBER 9th, 1992, LOS ANGELES, CA

REAGAN KNEW THAT if Kate did not stop wriggling like an overexcited puppy that she would have to pinch her. She could practically feel the nervous buzz radiating off of her sister as she stood next to her, bouncing on the toes of her high-heeled shoes.

"Did you see that?" Kate breathed. "That was Madonna. Madonna actually just walked past me."

"Kate, c'mon," Reagan said. She switched Gracie to her other arm, balancing her on her jutted out hip.

"Can you blame me? You brought me here! A real awards show, with real celebrities!"

Reagan supposed that in some sense, Kate was right. She did have the right to gush over all the celebrities she wanted, though Reagan felt as if her and Kate were one in the same. Common folk, destined to always be on the outside looking in. She just didn't see the appeal in swooning over Marky Mark and his low-riding jeans.

With that being said, Reagan was relieved that she'd brought Kate to the VMA's that night. Although she was officially there as Dave's date to the awards show, Kate was by extension her date, as well as additional help in taking care of Gracie.

She hadn't been opposed to bringing Gracie to the show. When Dave had originally suggested it, Reagan had figured why not, thinking it would be better to bring Gracie with them instead of dumping her in the care of Sarah or another willing babysitter.

But then, Reagan had questioned why on earth she herself was even going. It was the first time that she was dipping her toes into the newfound world that Dave was in, the one that was candy-coated with lights and cameras and people begging for autographs. She felt light years away from her true self — the person who'd held a minimum wage job in a car repair shop and wore jeans that costed her five bucks. She doubted that any of the people present that night knew what it was like to be someone like her, someone who was perfectly average.

Reagan didn't feel like the wife of a celebrity that night. She felt like an old fraud playing dress up. The worst of her fears had already come true when an MTV employee had assumed her to be the on-duty nanny for one of the A-lister parents in attendance. That had been pretty mortifying, but Reagan recovered quickly, assuming it was better to be invisible than be attacked by a camera crew.

Dave would always be the firmest foundation of undeniable rightness in her life, but having Kate at the VMA's with her allowed Reagan to retain some sense of normalcy. Kate acted as a cord that bound Reagan to the real world, reminding her that she wasn't in some sort of flashy fever dream.

Besides, she couldn't have very well said no to Dave when he'd asked her to come. Her only stipulation had been that Kate come too and he'd satisfied the request immediately, ensuring that Kate got her very own special badge to wear around her neck backstage.

"When does the interview start?" Kate asked, her gaze sweeping over to where Kurt and Krist were standing, playfully shoving each-other underneath a crisply hot L.A. day.

"Should be any second now," Reagan replied. Dave kept flashing her the occasional grin, to which she'd reply with her own bashful half-smile.

"Frances looked so adorable earlier," Kate remarked. "She's so tiny. It reminds me of when Gracie was born."

Reagan thought of Kurt, remembering the picturesque image of him bottle feeding Frances with attentive precision. He hadn't looked as good as he did that day in almost a year. There was a healthy pallor restored to his skin and his eyes were brighter somehow, which could have only been attributed to the baby that he'd held in his arms.

It was both a touching and discombobulating thing to have seen Kurt holding his child while Reagan had stood feet away holding her own. They were parents now. Gone were the days that they'd lounged around his Olympia apartment, channel surfing and wolfing down freezer food while they jammed on their instruments.

Well . . . Reagan was sure that Kurt still did those things, but she couldn't say the same for herself.

"I'm glad he has her tonight," Reagan said. "He needed it."

"They still don't have full custody yet, huh?"

"Nope. Courtney's half-sister or something flew here to be the temporary guardian. It's all pretty sick to watch."

"Sick because he's . . ." Kate lowered her voice before she continued, "sick?"

"He's not sick," Reagan shot back defensively. "He's just got some problems right now. Look at him now though, he's basically a picture of radiance. He's been holed up in Exodus for days."

"They haven't been saying very nice things about him in the papers," Kate brooded.

"Yeah, well, don't read the papers. Nobody knows what they're talking about."

Tabitha Soren of MTV strode over to Dave and Krist, shaking their hands with a smile. Her camera man followed closely behind and Reagan nudged Kate, nodding in their direction.

"Look," she said. "They're starting."

"Right now, I'm standing here with two members of Nirvana, Dave and Krist," Tabitha said into her microphone, turning in Krist's direction.

"What the hell is Dave eating?" Kate asked, squinting.

"Who knows?" Reagan replied with an eye roll. She watched Krist lean Tabitha into a surprisingly graceful dip and laughed. It had felt like forever since she'd last seen him. His hair was longer, longer than Dave's in a surprise twist of role reversal, and despite the tensions that he'd had with Kurt he looked happy.

It was a rare occasion that they ever did any interview without Kurt there. Like the components of a three-piece machine, the trio had always been interviewed together, a package deal unless the interviewer was able to nab Kurt by himself. Like a proud soccer mom watching her child win the season trophy, Reagan was pleased to see Dave shine in his own little sliver of spotlight.

He made her laugh so much all the time that she felt it was only fair that the rest of the world get a glimpse of his contagious humor.

"Is it weird? Seeing him be interviewed?" Kate wondered aloud, not once drawing her eyes away from Dave and Krist.

"Not really."

"You sure about that?"

"Alright, maybe a little. But I think it's cute."

"Cute is a good word to describe it. He reminds me of a Labrador retriever," Kate giggled. The sound of her sister's laugh made Reagan follow suit, her shoulders shaking.

"A Lab? I was thinking more of a Golden retriever," she contemplated.

"Labs are smarter, I thought."

"Maybe, but Goldens are more dopey. And if that's not Dave, then I don't know —,"

Reagan was cut off by the sound of her name being called. Her eyes flitted to Dave and she saw that he was beckoning her over with a wave of his hand and tilt to his head. She widened her eyes.

"Me?" she mouthed.

"No, your sister," Dave jested. "Yes, you. Get over here."

"Um," Reagan said. She glanced back and forth and then down into her arms, where Gracie was lulling into a peaceful sleep. Her only provided shade came from the shadow of Reagan's chin. "Kate, hold her, will you?"

Kate held out her hands willingly, but Dave called out to them again. "Bring G."

Tabitha was facing Reagan now with an expectant look on her face, her microphone poised in hand. Reagan let out a huff.

"I don't want to be interviewed," she hissed through her teeth at Kate.

"I don't think he's asking for you. He wants Gracie."

Reagan made her way over to Dave, avoiding the camera as she walked. She didn't raise her eyes towards the big black lens as she reached his side. If she was going to be on live television, then she preferred to be as least consciously aware of it as possible.

"Can I hold her?" Dave murmured, away from the sound pickup of Tabitha's mic.

"No, you should set her on the ground," Reagan whispered sarcastically. Ha. That was payback for his earlier jab that he'd made — and on camera, worst of all.

As soon as Gracie had been transferred into Dave's arms, Reagan sidestepped out of the shot but kept a close distance. She couldn't help but to hover protectively, though it was Dave who was holding their daughter. Something about the close proximity of the camera and Tabitha's microphone made Reagan want to remain nearby.

She would definitely ensure that Gracie looked back on this once she was older. Hey look, Reagan would say. You made your television debut at six months.

"How does it feel, being a father?" Tabitha pressed. She stuck the microphone within range of Dave.

"It's great," Dave answered. "The dirty diapers, baby vomit, all of that. Ten out of ten experience."

"Don't let him convince you that he does all the work," Krist piped in.

Tabitha laughed on cue. "Your bandmate Kurt Cobain also recently became a father last month. How has that been? Did you both plan on becoming dads at the same time?"

Reagan grimaced, awaiting the swell of awkwardness that was sure to settle over everyone at the mention of Kurt and Frances. It seemed tactless on Tabitha's part to bring it up when everyone in the whole world knew that fatherhood wasn't going as smoothly as planned for Kurt, but Dave flashed one of his impish grins.

"Well, you know, it took a lot of effort on both our parts to get the timing of our respective ovulations right. We even went to a Lamaze class together. It was very powerful."

Reagan turned her head, biting the inside of her cheek though that did nothing to disguise her amused smile. Leave it to Dave to know exactly what to say to lighten the mood.

The interview with Tabitha wrapped and as soon as she shook hands goodbye, Dave went over to Reagan, who was still waiting patiently off to the side. She offered to take Gracie back, but Dave shook his head no. Gracie was fast asleep cradled in his arms.

"I can't believe you brought her into the interview," Reagan said, shaking her head.

Dave switched Gracie into the crook of his left arm, capable of balancing her small weight perfectly. He roped his free hand around Reagan's waist and pulled her to him as they headed over to Kate.

"Why? Was that bad? Should I have not?" he asked with the barest hint of anxiety.

"It's alright. She's a part of who you are, isn't she?"

"That she is," Dave said proudly.

With Kate jabbering away to Krist behind them, Dave and Reagan took the lead as they entered Nirvana's designated trailer. Kate lingered in the entrance with both of her hands placed on the door.

"Do you care if I head out with Krist? We're going to find Kurt and Courtney," she announced.

Reagan raised her eyebrows. "Do you expect to find them in all this mayhem?"

"Sure. Krist said we've just got to go wherever all the cameras are, because that's where Kurt will be. They follow him everywhere."

"Okay. Be safe, will you?"

Kate twisted her pink-lipsticked mouth into a scowl. "I'm not a baby. You don't have to say that."

"You're my baby sister," Reagan emphasized. "I don't need you getting lost and ending up in some drunken rockstar's trailer."

"That's a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?" Dave chimed from behind Reagan.

Kate rolled her eyes and scoffed, throwing her hand up in a halfhearted goodbye wave. Krist poked his head inside the trailer and Reagan flashed him a pointed look.

"Krist," she pleaded, "watch her."

"No worries, Reags. Big brother Krist is here."

The trailer door swung close with a slam. Reagan heard Kate and Krist's voices fade as they walked off in pursuit of Kurt and Courtney, whom Reagan was sure they would not find in the sea of attendees. She didn't think they'd be seeing the Cobains until closer to show time.

"And you said you weren't the motherly type," Dave remarked. He gently laid Gracie down on the blanket he'd smoothed over the trailer's ratty couch, cradling her head in one hand and creating a safety fort of pillows around her with the other.

"I'm not that motherly," Reagan said. "I didn't think I had a motherly bone in my body until Gracie came along."

"Yeah? Then what was that with Kate? 'Be safe?'" he mimicked.

"She's my sister. Come on."

"Yep, and you worry about as bad as my mom does."

"I helped raise her. And she came here with me! Me! Now look at her, running off with Krist to gawk at celebrities."

"If you wanted the extra help taking care of Gracie, we could have asked Sarah to come."

Reagan sighed. "No, that's not what I meant. I didn't need any help. I just wanted Kate to have a good night. I knew bringing her here would make her happy."

"She looks happy to me," Dave said, getting off the couch and reaching out his hands to slide them along Reagan's back. "You made her whole year."

"Good. That was the goal."

Dave kissed Reagan's forehead tenderly, letting his lips rest in the same spot before they fluttered downwards across her cheekbone. His fingers pressed harder into the small of her back and suddenly, he was kissing her neck, devouring the sensitive skin there with his lips, tongue and teeth. Reagan automatically felt her legs weaken.

"What are you doing?" she breathed. His hands cupped the bottom of her dress, right around the curve of her backside.

"Haven't I told you already how fucking beautiful you look tonight?"

"I overdressed," Reagan said in embarrassment.

Standing next to Dave, she wouldn't argue that statement any differently. He'd selected a plain collared shirt, baggy shorts and his typical addition of thermals beneath them for the event. Meanwhile, Reagan had gone into overdrive when trying to choose an outfit. Kate had come to the rescue the day before, allowing Reagan to borrow a black slip dress with only a scrap of lace detail on the sweetheart neckline.

It was short, short in a way that made Reagan feel like she had to constantly pull the hem down every five seconds, but it fit her like glove and made her feel some vestige of sexiness that she hadn't felt since giving birth. Her legs looked longer than usual and the dress's thin spaghetti straps bared her arms and back for the world to see. Dave was particularly enjoying this aspect of the dress, roving his hands along the length of her sun-warmed skin.

"You didn't overdress," he murmured against the gentle slope of her collarbone. "In fact I'd like to see you a little more underdressed, if you know what I mean."

"But look at you and look at me, if I'd known you were wearing that, I would have worn jeans —,"

Dave's hand suddenly shot from massaging its way between Reagan's shoulder blades to her face, where with a soft grip, he grabbed her around the cheekbones with his thumb and fingers. It was firm enough to catch her attention, but nowhere near close enough to hurt. Nonetheless, she stopped breathing.

"Take the fucking compliment and kiss me," he whispered.

He didn't have to say much more than that. Reagan's lips connected with his and he slipped his hand from her face to her neck, squeezing her throat gently and uttering a groan that came from the back of his throat. She pressed her body against his and she could tell through the thin fabric of his shorts that he wanted her badly.

Dave cupped her chest and hooked his other hand around her thigh, hitching it higher against his hip. Reagan let out a gasp when he tucked his fingers beneath her dress and curled them against the painstakingly delicate barrier of her underwear.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. It was hard to sound menacing when he was moving his fingertips against her in the precise way that he knew would drive her mad.

"Empty trailer," he explained between kisses along her jawline. "You and me. Alone. You in a hot dress. Dress must come off."

"Gracie's right there!"

"Fuck. I almost forgot about that."

"Horn dog," Reagan said accusingly, pushing Dave back by his shoulders. "We can't do that when our kid is three feet away from us. And someone could walk in and see us!"

"Well, Kurt would be a little grossed out, that I'll admit. Courtney would just laugh. And Krist would take a picture with that camera he's been carrying around his neck all day," Dave theorized.

Reagan laughed as she caught her breath, pulling her dress back down over her thighs. It was a bitter way to cut short what had almost happened, but it was the rational thing to do, especially with Gracie sleeping so close by.

"And Shelli?" she probed.

Dave grinned. "Shelli would shield her eyes and say something to the tune of, 'are you fucking kidding me? In the trailer?!'"

Reagan laughed louder as Dave nailed a perfect imitation of Shelli's voice.

"Good thing we decided to spare them all," she said.

"You know who I'm not sparing, though?"

"Who?"

"You. Tonight, when we get back to the hotel."

Reagan's face flushed. "Is that so?"

"Yep. I've never been more grateful than I am right now that we booked Kate her own room."

"How about you just focus on getting through your performance tonight?"

"I think if we can make it through Reading, we can make it through tonight," Dave laughed.

Reagan had to agree with him there. He'd already told her several times how amazing the Reading Festival had been. The night had served as a secret comeback for Nirvana, although most of their fans had not even known that a comeback was in the works. Rumors had apparently swirled that Nirvana wouldn't show, but the band had come through and electrified the masses of festival-goers with their performance. They'd played fantastically and Kurt had been in good spirits in spite of the hell that he'd been through, talking to the audience and assuring them that a new record would be on the way.

Reagan was happy for them all. Mostly, she was happy for Dave. They might have been arguing weeks ago about where he'd end up in his career, but never had Reagan wanted to see Nirvana fall through for her own sake as a mother and wife.

"You're not going to disobey any orders tonight, are you?" she asked, observing Dave as he sat down on the couch beside Gracie and tickled the bottom of her little foot.

"What orders?" he replied innocently.

Reagan sharpened her gaze. "You know what I'm talking about."

He would have had to be stupid to miss her point. Nirvana had been given a specific set of rules to follow for their VMA performance, the main one being that they were forbidden to play their song 'Rape Me.' Reagan hadn't been at the band's rehearsal the day prior, but Dave had filled her in on the firm scolding they'd gotten from the MTV executives when they'd toyed with possibly opening up with the song.

"I'm not saying anything," Dave smirked.

"Dave," Reagan warned.

"Oh, come on, it's a good song. Everyone's acting like they've got sticks up their asses."

"It is a good song. Do you want to have your videos banned from MTV, though?"

"They're not my videos."

"Don't act all cutesy."

"Reags, don't worry about us. We got it all figured out. And since when are you such a rule follower?"

"I'm not," Reagan retorted hotly, crossing her arms. Damned be the person that ever suggested she was a rule follower. She followed some rules out of necessity, but she also hadn't spent her youth breaking the others ones just to be called obedient.

"Are you MTV's biggest fan now?" Dave teased.

"I'm not!" Reagan cried, repeating her previous denial. "I just don't want you guys to get in trouble."

Dave grinned at her, his brown eyes sparkling with such mischief that she knew it was impossible to trust him. Whatever he, Kurt and Krist had planned was inevitably going to happen.

"Shit," he laughed. "Like I said. You're as motherly as they come."