Sean waited for his brother to open a beer and sprawl on the passenger's seat.

"Well?" he asked then, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Well what."

Sean turned off the music and smacked Jim's cap off of his head. "Speak, dude."

"Later."

"No fucking way. We still have an hour to the ranch and I'm all ears."

Jim picked up his cap and put it back on, down to his eyes. "Fine, shoot."

"Jay? Seriously? You gotta be kidding."

"I thought she was kidding about not recognizing me. But she almost had a heart attack when I showed her my driver license just now."

"How did you meet her?"

"Two days ago, when I got to the bus station."

Sean frowned. "Wait. You told me yesterday morning you'd found a fan to look after you." He glanced at Jim and scoffed at his poker face. "You were talking about her? And she didn't recognize you?" He let out a dry laughter. "Oh, man, this is too much!"

Jim brought his feet up to the dash. "And we're only getting started, bro."

Through Sean's questions, Jim wove all the little moments to put together the story, since he'd gotten to the bus station in the storm, two nights earlier, up to that morning. And the brothers agreed it sounded like the plot for an indie movie that Sean's girlfriend Jo would like to shoot.

Sean didn't comment while Jim told him about the hours of music, cheap philosophy, serious conversation and jokes he'd shared with Silvia, and nodded when he learned what she'd been through with the yelling thug. Yeah, both of them couldn't help sympathizing with that kind of story, that reminded them of their own mother. But none of what Jim was saying explained his own part in it.

"Why did you tell me she was a fan?"

"'Cause she is, just not the kind we're used to," Jim replied, and told Sean what she'd said about their music and about himself.

Sean nodded again, thinking he was beginning to understand at least that bit.

Jim loved to be liked, but that wasn't why he'd started the band ten years earlier. And deep inside, he still needed to shake people, make them feel, make them think, make them wonder. This woman, far from just another diehard soldier, took the time to actually listen to Jim, opening the door for him to shake her the way he sought.

"She must hate your guts."

Jim tilted his head, thoughtful. "You may say so. I'm many things she doesn't approve or like. And I talk about things she doesn't wanna acknowledge, let alone feel. She hates me for reminding her they exist, even if she looks the other way. But at the same time, she loves me for that, too. My songs allow her to risk a ride to the dark side of her own soul. And she needs me there to kick her ass now and then—her words, not mine."

"Spare me, dude. I don't want your autograph."

Jim chuckled. "Neither would she, I think."

"You think?" Sean's dry laughter filled the cab.

"Yeah, right?"

"Whatever. None of this explains how on earth you brought yourself to fuck her."

Jim killed his beer in no hurry, letting his brother's patience grow thin. Right before Sean launched one of his deadly punches to his arm, he said, "Remember Kate?"

Sean snorted under his breath. Did he remember Kate! Like he had a choice! There was a before and after Kate in his brother's sex life. Jim had never been the same around women after dating that smoking hot devil in high heels.

"This woman beats Kate in bed ten times outta five."

Sean slowed down to look away from the road and glare at Jim, taking offense at such a lousy attempt of a lie. Jim held his eyes with a little smile. Sean whistled as he stepped on the gas again.

"You sure we're talking about the same person?"

"Yup."

"What were you on last night?"

Jim raised his empty beer a little.

"How many?"

"Two, three? I wasn't drunk, bro, and I wasn't high. And yeah, we're talking about the ordinary soccer mom my age you just met."

Sean shook his head slightly, refusing to believe him. Jim's soft chuckle earned a sideways scowl.

"Wanna hear something funny? I was only trying to help. She needed to spit on that son of a bitch's name, like she did in the flesh a while ago. It was the easier way for her to start moving on from all the hurt, and I just happened to be there, with nothing better to do." Jim took his turn to shake his head slowly, still smiling. "When I first kissed her, I was wondering how the fuck I'd manage a decent boner. And a few minutes later, I couldn't take my hands off of her! The funniest part is that she's got no idea how hot and wild she can be."

Sean snorted and turned the music on.

Jim turned it off. "You asked, now you listen."

"Then drop the bullshit, man," Sean grunted.

"Lemme give you a comparison to help you understand." Jim raised one finger. "No details."

"You better."

"Okay, so let's say Kate's a chef. She's the best fucking chef in the whole world. And she knows it, and she likes to prove it at every chance she gets. She enjoys showing off how she knows her knives and pans and pots, every condiment, every sauce, every recipe. And she's the boss. The kitchen is her unchallenged realm and she's the only one holding the reins, bossing everybody around. You follow me?"

"Yeah," Sean grunted reluctantly.

"So if Kate's the best chef, this woman is the average home cook come to town, invited to assist a chef—"

"Ha! Now you are the chef."

"And I learned from the best, bro. I was saying, she's invited to cook with a chef for the very first time. She's average good, she knows the basics and she has no problem following the chef's instructions. But she's got an imagination, and a curiosity to kill a pride of lions."

"Dude!"

"So the chef's helping her make one hell of a sauce and she's frigging loving it. But out of the blue, she spots a shiny flask across the kitchen. She asks what it is, how the chef would use it. And then she asks why not try it on the sauce. So she goes and tries. And turns out now the sauce tastes way better than what the chef was cooking. And lemme tell you, she's got some kinky taste for fine cuisine."

"Fuck you."

"You asked."

Jim turned on the music and leaned back in his seat.

Sean growled some more under his breath, resourcing to the excuse of driving to keep his eyes away from his brother. He would've liked to believe Jim was lying through his teeth, but he knew his little brother better.

A soft snore made him glance to his right.

Jim was sound asleep.