What if... (A Barely-True Short Story)

All About That Bass

"What kind of car is this?" John asks, sounding flabbergasted and a little confused. I say nothing, just point to the VW symbol in the center of the steering wheel. "A Volkswagen?" he adds, sounding even more surprised.

"This is a mighty nice VW," Simon pipes in.

"Thanks. I love it," I tell them, smiling a little proud smile.

My car shocks a lot of people. They see a wagon, and assume it is slow and boring. It's quite the opposite, and I've left many shocked hot rodders stunned back at the line when a light turns green.

I skip to the next song, and immediately decide I don't want to hear Ain't Too Proud to Beg by The Temptations. I skip the track, and hear Simon protest. But it's been replaced by Rio, and I start to smile.

"Oh come on. Not these wankers," John teases.

I look over at him with my mouth gaping, and he winks. It is his band after all, and his comment makes me giggle. So I skip again. To Womanizer by Britney Spears. He scoffs and I see him staring at me in shock.

"This song?" he says in mock disgust.

"Come on, don't tell me you weren't drawn in by trying to get the rhythm of the chorus," I tell him, but he shakes his head in an adamant no.

Meanwhile, the chorus starts, and Simon is suddenly singing it. Both John and I burst into laughter, and I once more skip the track. She's a Beauty by The Tubes, an 80s classic. I shake my head no, with a disgusted look on my face, and skip it. True Blood by Justin Timberlake.

"Well, so far I can tell you are a sucker for sappy pop," John mocks.

I can't tell if he's joking or not. Skip. Asia. Skip. Smash Mouth. Skip. Adele. Skip. Pitbull. Skip. What the hell? Maybe he's right? But I know he's not. I just have to prove it. I keep skipping songs, determined to prove I'm not Pop Trash (ha!), and I'm really not succeeding. Why is my iPod doing this to me? I must skip about ten or so tracks, until finally, mercifully, my iPod serves up Car Wash by Rose Royce. A funky little Disco number. One I have to crank up, so I do.

"This is a good one," Simon tells me and I nod, smiling. But John still doesn't look impressed.

"What are you expecting over there? Tchaikovsky?" I tease, and he scoffs.

"How about some Bowie?" he counters.

"It's there. My iPod is just hiding it," I scowl.

"Oasis?"

"Ew, no!"

"Coldplay?"

"Yuck."

"If you scoff at Roxy Music-"

"None of that either. I've tried to like them, but uh, umm, no," I sharply say. The look on his face is one of absolute disgust.

"We need to go, Simon," he says, reaching for the door handle, and for a second, I'm not sure if he's joking.

I actually slow down, thinking I'm going to have to pull over on the side of the road to let them out. I look at Simon in my rear mirror, and he's shaking head and looking annoyed at John. I look over at John, and while he's looking at me expectantly, there's a taunting twinkle in his eyes. Damn him and his teasing! I skip to the next track, and actually feel relief when I hear the song. It's Artifice by SOHN, and I own the song because John had put it in a playlist he had shared with the fans a few years back.

"This is better," he says with a wink, and I roll my eyes. "But you can skip it."

Skip. Kool and the Gang. Skip. Donna Summer. Skip. The Smiths. Skip. Mystikal. Skip. No Doubt. Just those few songs should show how wide my musical taste really is. Skip. The O'Jays Back Stabbers starts, and I turn up the volume. A little bit of Philly Soul, and it's one of my favorites. As the groove starts, I start to bob my head, enjoying the music as it spreads out in my ears.

"I like this one," John tells me, so I look over at him.

He's smiling and looking out of the window at the surrounding area. Of course, by the highway, the view is kind of dismal. But just beyond it, you can see lush farm lands sprawling across the horizon. Where I live in Southern Chester County really is a beautiful area. And I can tell he's appreciating the view.

By the time we reach the exit ramp where I get off of the highway, Back Stabbers is ending, so I wait with anticipation for the next track. I will my iPod to play something good, and not disappointment me. And it doesn't, yet I feel my cheeks redden with the first bass note. It's Pony by Ginuwine and man, that is one sexually suggestive song. I try best not to react, to keep my poker face, but I can feel John's eyes on me. When I sneak a glance his way, he's staring full force at me, wearing that sinful smirk of his. Oh my.

"You like this song?" he taunts.

"Yea," I say, sounding breathless and lustful.

Why the hell am I reacting like that? I'm married. He's married. Do not go any further down this dangerous path! My mind scolds. I press the skip button, hoping for a relief. Nope. My iPod serves up Closer by Nine Inch Nails. My fucking word. Now my cheeks are scarlet, and I'm trying not to react, but it's useless.

"Methinks someone is a naughty girl," Simon says from the back seat, and I want to crawl under the dashboard.

I make no response, instead turning on my turn signal, and taking the exit ramp. Once I'm safely off and coasting towards the traffic light at the other end of the ramp, I skip the track.

Relief. Yet the song is almost too much the other way. This one is saccharine sweet, and embarrassing in another way. It's Copacabana by Barry Manilow. Yes, you read that right. It's a guilty pleasure, and I've liked the song since I was little. I stifle a giggle, yet I am grateful my iPod didn't serve up another sexual song.

"Is this...?" John starts, trying to contain his mirth.

"Barry Manilow," I say and look at him, daring him to make fun of me with my eyes.

"Interesting," he quips, but says nothing more. He's still smirking though.

"What?" I snap, giving him an angry look before checking if I am clear to make my right hand turn at the light.

"Nothing!" he answers defensively. "I'm just beginning to think you're more eclectic than I previously thought." I scoff at him, and make my turn, then skip the track again.

This time we are treated to very heavy bass, the kind that vibrates in my car. My eyebrows go up, as I am still sometimes surprised by the bass levels this stereo system can deliver. The song is none other than Duran Duran's Chains. One of my favorite bass lines.

"Wow," John says, astonished. "That's amazing bass."

"Amazing bass. How sweet the sound," Simon sings to the tune of 'Amazing Grace', and we all laugh.

"You ain't heard nothing yet," I say as I push the button to close the sunroof.

While that moves along its track, I pull up the buttons to close all four windows. While the sunroof finishes closing, I find the song I want on my iPod. The sunroof seals shut, and I start the song, turning up the volume. It's Duran again, this time Tiger Tiger. Yes, the song starts fairly quietly, but that first resonating bass note vibrates my entire car. The next note, you can feel the vibration in the under carriage of the car, and this time, it's John's eyebrows that shoot up.

"Wow," is all he says, so flabbergasted that he can barely speak.

"Yea. I love to listen to this song in my car. It's amazing," I tell him, and he nods in agreement.

All three of us stay silent as the song plays, and I drive along. My mind is turning on the fact that I have two fairly famous people in my car as we listen to my music. I never thought I would be in such an intimate setting with these guys. It's a bit surreal, to be honest.