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“I don’t have a problem with women drivers,” he said, programming the address into his GPS.
“I never said you did.”
“Did you think it…that I’m a sexist who has to stay behind the wheel?”
“I believe it’s possible you’re a sexist about a great many things. Most men I’ve known are, even my closest male friends, though they don’t like admitting it any more than you apparently do.”
“The problem is, the target keeps changing,” he said, feeling annoyed despite having no reason for it.
“How do you mean?”
“I’m talking about the way an enlightened man is supposed to think and act.”
“Ah, but enlightenment is a continual process and every time there’s a setback for women, I think some of us respond by doubling down on our expectations.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll put it this way: the space program would have never reached the moon if they’d only aimed at the top of a mountain.”
It still didn’t make sense, yet in a way he understood.
“You might be right, about the moonshot, anyhow. But I still say that it’s uncomfortable not knowing how a man is supposed to respond on various issues.”
“Does that include brotherly advice versus unwelcome interference?”
Nicole’s face was expressionless as she fastened her seat belt, but Jordan remembered the look in her eyes when he’d been talking to Chelsea.
“I’m not interfering,” he insisted. “Look, you don’t understand the circumstances. Chelsea just left a really bad relationship and—”
Nicole held up a hand. “I told you it’s none of my business. If Chelsea wants me to know, she will tell me.”
“Then isn’t how I talk with her about it also none of your business?”
“You’re right,” Nicole conceded unexpectedly. “Besides, she seems capable of telling you herself when you’ve gone too far.”
“You think I went too far?”
“I thought we just agreed that it isn’t my business.”
Jordan laughed ruefully. “True, but I’m still worried about her.” He didn’t even know why he was pushing the subject. He’d already realized he should let Chelsea be an adult, the way Nicole was doing.
“In that case,” Nicole said, “what I think is that it’s nice you care so much about your sister.”
Curiously pleased, Jordan started his car. Yet, he realized, he could have made better use of time. He’d been talking with Nicole for several minutes about nothing to do with the article. Not that they could have gotten into anything very much since they had agreed to suspend the interviews while driving. But he needed to keep on track; the sooner he finished the PostModern articles, the sooner he might get a better night’s sleep.
* * *
NICOLE STEPPED FROM the small sports car, barely touching the polite hand Jordan had offered. She didn’t want to appear as if she was avoiding his touch, even if that was the case.
“Why a gym?” he asked as they walked into the building.
“They’re shooting sports gear ads for a local company that is poised to go national.”
“Are the models new? That is, why come to this particular photo shoot? Or is it the potential for national exposure?”
“The exposure has nothing to do with it. There are seven locations that I’m not visiting today, including two with clients on their first jobs. Four of the six models at this shoot have experience, but I’ve had mixed reports on the photographic studio.”
“I see.”
His eyes were enigmatic and she didn’t know what he was making of her explanation. Truthfully, while she would have come regardless, she wanted Jordan to observe this particular photo shoot. After the comments he’d made, she’d decided he should see some of the realities of modeling and suspected this would be one of the more challenging jobs.
Inside the gym she forgot her speculations and focused on the models being given the outfits they were supposed to wear. Then they were directed to the locker rooms to dress.
Jordan was speaking with the photography crew, asking them to sign releases for the pictures he wanted to take himself.
