Page 22 of Push & Pull

Even if Simone could probably star in one if last night was any evidence.

Simone stirred in the passenger seat. Petra jerked upright, convinced that her road-trip partner had read her mind.

Jesus. Get your mind off her pussy.Petra needed to concentrate on the traffic, lest she missed the perfect opportunity to bypass everyone trying to get off at the next exit. The best ways to do that were to put the radio on the nearest alternative station and sing out loud to anything she recognized.

Out of all the songs that could be playing, “1979” by The Smashing Pumpkins should have been her bet, but had been completely off her radar.

“Fuckingyes!” Simone was definitely awake now, wiping away the sleep from her eyes while Petra sang the lyrics more clearly than Billy Corgan ever had. Her hands drummed against the steering wheel as she settled into a beat that helped her merge into a faster lane. Soon, Charlotte was but a name on road signs. There were better places to stop on the way to Raleigh.

“Wow.” That was the one sound Petra heard as Simone removed her reading glasses and folded them atop the book cover in her lap. “Things happened while I was asleep.”

A brief instrumental allowed Petra to explain the situation. “When Dad is playing, you drop everything to sing along.”

“…Dad?”

Petra should have guessed. Simone had no appreciation for ‘90s music. “First thing you need to know,” Petra forewent singing the next verse for this, “Courtney Love is Mom.”

“Courtney… Love.”

“You know who Courtney Love is, right? Fucking Hole!”

“I’m not used to those words in that order referring to music.”

“Actually, Billy Corgan is Stepdad. Because Dad-Dad is Kurt. It makes sense.”

“Kurt. As in Kurt Cobain?”

Petra grinned. “You’re finally joining the land of the living over there.”

“I don’t really listen to this kind of music. Bit before my time.”

“How old do you think I am? I was barely alive when one of the greatest albums of all time,MellonCollie and the Infinite Sadnesscame out. Believe it or not, my foster dad had a bunch of grunge and grunge-adjacent albums for me to borrow when I lived with him.”

“Foster dad is different from stepdad, though.”

“Correct. Because Billy Corgan is my spiritual stepdad.”

Simone rubbed her head while looking out the window. The endless expanse of freeway asphalt and green signs were probably messing with her head. “I have no idea what is going on.”

The song faded into a commercial. Petra turned down the volume. “So what kind of music did you listen to as a kid? Who was big ten years ago? Lady Gaga?”

“I mostly listen to instrumental music.”

“Ah. Classical?”

“Electronic, actually.”

“Really?” Short of saying “modern country,” that was the most shocking answer Simone could offer. “You like electronic music? Lemme guess. Tropical house. No. Dubstep.”

Simone shrugged. “I listen more to artists as opposed to subgenres. I had a pretty embarrassing Daft Punk phase as a kid, though.”

“I don’t believe it. What was the first concert you ever went to?”

“Huh? First concert? That’s different. My mom took me to one of her favorite artists.”

“I don’t think I could guess.”

“Sarah McLachlan.”