Cigarettes and Alcohol

Jim Morrison

I was silent as Kurt and I got off the plane with our bags. I had a headache and couldn't stop thinking about what happened on the plane. Did I dream it? I had no idea. I was at a loss. Maybe she had something to do with my journey back to this time? Was I breaking time and causing Frances to follow me backwards?

Before I could continue this line of thought, Kurt said something in my ear.

"Hm?"

"Effy, there are going to be paparazzi at the airport. There always is, and if they caught wind of our trip to London there's going to be a lot."

I stopped walking.

"Okay. Do you want to get separate taxis to your place or something? I can go first and then you follow on, so you don't get seen with me. Does that sound okay?" Kurt seemed surprised.

"Why?"

"It would be suspicious if you were seen with a girl getting off a plane. Together. Especially if I'm not someone they know, they'll have a field day and everyone will assume you've been cheating on your wife and that's why you're getting a divorce. It's a bad idea and you know it."

Kurt processed this. He seemed to understand because he nodded and gave me twenty dollars for the cab.

"Could I have your address?"

He nodded again and pulled out a notepad and pen from his bag, jotting it down while leaning on his knee. Before he handed it over, he looked down at me and met my eye.

"I'm sorry I can't be beside you through the throngs of paparazzi, but I'll see you soon, okay?" I told him in a reassuring tone.

He nodded for a final time and I headed out. I passed through the gate and spotted several men  with big cameras waiting there, looking ready to pounce on the poor guy. I guess they had heard about Kurt's journey to London after all.

They didn't recognise me as I walked past, wearing the sunglasses I hadn't given back to Liam. They're mine now.

I heard the flashes go off behind me as Kurt left the gate as well, so I sped up my walk. There were yells of questions left unanswered by Kurt as the reporters vied for a piece of him, and all I could do was silently pity him. I wish I could help but it would only make things worse for me to be beside him.

The gate was relatively close to the airport's exit so I turned around one last time, spotting Kurt not too far away, and caught his eye. I realised we could probably hop into the same taxi without being noticed, so I nodded my head toward the cabs and he understood.

I left the building through the sliding doors and into the evening light of Seattle. It was a bit chilly here so I pulled my jacket tighter and knocked on one of the taxi windows waiting outside, and when the man gave the okay I hopped in, pulling my bag beside me.

"Could you just wait a moment? My friend was having trouble leaving the airport but he should be here any second."

"Sure thing, doll." I frowned at the nickname but soon cooled off when I spotted Kurt jogging away from the many paps and reporters following him like hungry dogs. When he saw me through the window he slid in beside me.

"Holy shit, your friend is Kurt Cobain? Well colour me impressed, sweetheart."

"Can you just take us to 171 Lake Washington Boulevard? Quickly, preferably." Kurt said gruffly. Guess he was just as happy with the nicknames as I was.

"No problem, pal. Why didn't you get a limo or somethin' though?" The man asked.

"This wasn't exactly a planned trip." Kurt muttered. I'd guessed the man got the message because he stopped speaking and drove us in silence.