“Maybe because women are emerging from several millennia of being unempowered? Does it emasculate you, listening to such empowered women?”
“Not at all. I like empowered women. I love empowered women.”Especially when they’re fired up.“Do you harbor secret rock-star ambitions?”
She relaxed into her seat with a harrumph. “Would that mean I’d have to go out in crowds, and people would look at me?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Then no, I’m pretty much the opposite of a rock star.”
“You certainly are.”
Her head flicked to face him. She’d turned that alluring mahogany. “Just what do you mean by that?”
“Oh, soyoucan say you’re the opposite of a rock star but when I agreeIget in trouble?”
A reluctant smile. “Believe me, I don’t need any critic but myself.”
“What I mean,” he said quietly, “is that you’re far too levelheaded.”
“Just what every woman dreams of hearing. And if what we’re doing here is your idea of levelheaded, you’re a danger to society.”
“Nothing at all wrong with levelheaded... They make you feel braver, these songs.”
She blinked, frowning. The music hit dead air, and then an acoustic guitar started strumming, joined by an electric guitar. He figured it out as the singing began—4 Non Blondes.
“I guess. Charlotte got me hooked on women rockers at university. Joni Mitchell, Janis Joplin, Joan Osborne, Joan Jett—we called them the four Js... They got us through many a late night of cramming.”
“Ah, hence Janis and Jagger... You don’t strike me as the cramming type. More the one with a long-term revision plan. On spreadsheet.”
“Spreadsheet? Pfft. I created a scheduling app.” They laughed, hers a husky sound he hadn’t heard nearly often enough. “I needed it because I spent too many hours gaming. The thing is,” she said, drawing her feet up and resting them on the glove compartment, “I don’t feel like a coward when I listen to these songs. These women are powerful, passionate, confident...all the things I’m not.”
“For starters, I don’t believe for a second that you’re not those things. And anyway,” he continued, raising his voice over her objection, “I imagine their cool-girl image covered up a lot of insecurities. Look what became of Janis. And there’s plenty of heartache and vulnerability in those songs. That’s what makes them so good. Not to mention, it doesn’t get much braver than taking down one of the most powerful men in America.”
“For a beautiful minute there I’d forgotten about that.”
He mentally head-desked.
“Anyway, this is not about being brave,” she continued. “It’s about being forced to do what it takes to survive.”
“That’s what most bravery is.”
“I disagree. I think bravery is about putting yourself in a situation like this just because it’s the right thing to do or purely to help others—even when it’s not in your own best interests. Like what you’re doing.”
His eyes widened. His motivations weren’t nearly as pure as she gave him credit for. “Me? No. I only came because it sounded like fun.”
“We have a very different idea of fun. Does this not scare you?”
“Right now, no. And you know why? Because I’m not thinking about it. Because I’m having a lovely drive with good company and good music and I’m not about to ruin it by thinking about what’s going to happen next when there’s nothing more I can do to prepare for it. Because I’m not talking myself into feeling fear. Later on, if the shit hits the fan—”
“Yes! That’s what it is,” she said, to herself.
“Huh?”
“Just something that was annoying me. Go on.”
“If the shit hits the fan, maybe I’ll be scared, but that’ll be around the time the adrenaline strikes, so there’ll be no room for fear.”
“And in the meantime, denial is your defense against fear.”
