When she heard the music drifting down the hallway, Natasha thought at first that someone's phone was going off. No, no one had "Pop Goes the World" as a ringtone. Maybe it was coming from outside.
She looked around for an open window, but all the windows were closed tightly to keep the air conditioning in. So where was the music coming from?
She thought about her teammates. Steve certainly didn't listen to anything written after 1950 or so. His tastes, when he could figure out how to work the CD player, ran mostly to big band or swing music, and occasionally show tunes. Nothing like this.
Tony? Probably not. He was more the edgy-rock type, not frothy bubblegum pop. Unless he was doing it to annoy someone, which he was uncannily good at.
She knew Clint too well to believe he had suddenly acquired a taste for this kind of music. He liked darker Euro metal, but only listened to it with headphones on.
And Thor didn't like much modern music at all. Most of what he listened to was cymbal-crashing orchestral symphonies, usually at full volume. Though she had caught him listening to Taylor Swift once. Rather than ask questions she didn't really want the answers to, she had left the room without saying a word.
So who was listening to what was now Duran Duran? "Hungry Like the Wolf" was one of her favorites; she found herself singing along under her breath as she made her way to the source of the music.
Science Lab B.
Maybe it was that Darcy girl who worked with Thor's girlfriend. No, she had been in the tower once, and she listened to Tori Amos and Fiona Apple and other Lilith Fair headliners. Couldn't be her.
She knocked once on the door, but the music was so loud that she wasn't sure she had been heard. She knocked again, louder. Still no answer.
"All right," she warned, "I'm coming in." She reached in her pocket for her lock picks, only to discover that the door wasn't locked. It turned smoothly in her hand before she could even begin to work.
Standing there with his back to her and striking what he probably thought was a sexy Simon LeBon pose was the last person she would have expected to listen to Duran Duran.
"Bruce?"
Upon hearing her voice, he jumped and hit the power button on the CD player. "Oh, Tasha. I didn't hear you come in."
"I did knock. Is this some sort of experiment?"
"What? Oh, the music? No, I . . . don't tell anyone about this, okay?"
She raised her eyebrows. "And why would I want to do that?"
He sighed. "Look, I had a really crappy childhood. The music was the only thing that kept me going. I wanted to be like the rock stars I saw on MTV. Instead of a skinny science nerd with an attitude problem."
She had to smile at that. "I'm not laughing at you," she said. "That sounds like me, growing up. I loved to listen to the American music. You remember the Go-Gos?"
"I had one of their albums. Had to sneak it into the house so no one would find it and call me . . ." He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.
"I get the picture. I just never thought of you as the type to like that sort of music."
"What music did you think I liked?"
"Oh, I don't know . . . something more exotic, I guess, considering all the places you've been. Brazilian samba or African tribal rhythms or something like that."
"I have those on my playlist, too. But this is what I listen to when I'm feeling nostalgic. I had to burn myself a CD when the mix tape broke."
"I had tons of mix tapes! I used to record them off the radio with my little tape recorder."
"Hungry Like the Wolf" gave way to something by Elton John. "What happened to MTV?" she asked. "It used to be such fun! Now it's all teenage mothers and sex-crazed housemates. Where did all the fun go?"
"I couldn't tell you," he said. "I can't believe you like this music."
"I learned English from this music! Well, some of it. I wanted to come to America and meet all the rock stars. Pat Benatar. Cyndi Lauper."
"Joan Jett. Lita Ford."
"Who?"
"She did that duet with Ozzy."
"What duet?"
"Let me see, I think I have it here somewhere . . ." He rummaged through a bin and came up with a CD with "80's Disk 4" written on it in Sharpie. "It's on here, I think. It's a ballad."
"I like rock ballads."
He was looking at the inside of the case. "This is terrible—I can't read my own writing. I think this is it, track 3 It's called Close My Eyes Forever." He put it in the player and cued up the track. They listened to it in reverent silence.
You think you know a person, she thought. I know we haven't exactly been best buds, but I thought I had him figured out. Boy, was I wrong.
"That's pretty," she said, when the song was over. "I never heard it before."
"Want me to make you your own copy?"
"Oh, no, you don't have to—"
"It's no trouble at all. I'll have it for you tomorrow. Come down here and it'll be ready."
"Thanks."
They shared a knowing glance. It was nice to have a secret that was just for the two of them. It was also nice to get a glimpse into someone's past, to see the person he had been that made him what he was now.
"I've met rock stars," she said. "They're just people. It was something of a letdown, really."
"The fantasy is more fun," he agreed.
"You know what's funny?"
"What's that?"
"Somewhere, there are little boys and little girls who dream of coming to meet us. We're their rock stars."
"I never thought of it that way," he said. "Guess I'll have to brush up on my air guitar."
"I'll jam with you anytime."