Page 31 of Hairpin Curves

They sang through the next song as well, a Cyndi Lauper hit, and by the time it ended, Megan had fully relaxed. She let her head loll back against the headrest, a lazy smile on her face. She looked like...

She looked like she’d just been fucked. The thought flashed into Scarlett’s mind before she could help it, a sudden image of Megan giving that same lazy, self-satisfied expression when stretched out on a bed, and she nearly choked. She covered the surprise and embarrassment by coughing and then drinking some water. If Megan noticed anything, she didn’t comment.

Best to change the subject. “Did you ever think about becoming a singer?”

Megan shook her head right away. “Nah.”

“Because you don’t think you’re good enough?”

Megan hesitated, a flicker of tongue brushing over her lips. “I don’t know. Success isn’t always about how good you are. Even if I was good enough, and I don’t know if I am, it’s way too stressful to do it for a living.”

The fact that Megan had a thoughtful answer, and didn’t just dismiss the idea outright, surprised Scarlett. “What part’s stressful? Being up onstage?”

“No. That part’s kind of nice.” Megan smiled, a tiny sliver of embarrassed pleasure on her face. “I don’t usually do anything where people clap afterward.” She twisted her fingers on the steering wheel. “But the music industry is a lot of luck. At least the performing part. I wouldn’t want to get involved with that end of things.”

Scarlett glanced across the center console. “So what end of things would you want to get involved in?”

The song ended, and Megan turned the music off. “It’s not important.”

“I asked because I want to know.” Scarlett didn’t mean to sound irritated, but it came out that way, and she softened her tone. “I’m not gonna make fun of you.”

Megan hesitated. “I’ve always wanted—” She paused, then seemed to steel herself to continue. “I’ve always wanted to have a radio station. Or a podcast or something. Or work as a DJ. I want to be on the radio sharing everything I love about music, curating playlists, living in the music.” She got more animated as she spoke, moving her hands before she pulled them back, as if realizing she was getting too excited. “I—love music.”

Megan visibly waited for her reply, hands quiet on the steering wheel once more. Maybe she still cared about what Scarlett thought, no matter what she said. “You could do it.” Scarlett gestured lightly, a quick hand wave to sweep the impossibilities away. “It wouldn’t be that hard to get a podcast started. And if you wanted to be a DJ, there’s always the local radio station, or maybe you could go somewhere closer to Tampa or Orlando if you wanted more options—”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not ready for that.” Megan closed back in again. “I just got laid off. And I don’t have much experience.”

“Well, do you have some experience? Aside from making mix CDs.”

Megan gave a half-nod. “I had a night gig on the radio at the university. I did the midnight-to-two shift on Thursday nights.” Megan’s annoyed expression softened, her eyes going unfocused as she remembered. “I didn’t have any Friday morning classes that semester, so it worked out fine. I think I was the only one listening, probably.”

As long as Megan was talking, she wasn’t being mad at Scarlett, and that cold gulf between them was a bit warmer. Scarlett would ask more questions. “What did you like about it?”

“Everything.” Megan sighed. “It was so immersive. Me and all the music, alone in the sound booth, with people out in the world hearing what I wanted to share. It felt like magic.”

This was the Megan that Scarlett had remembered, the one who said things like “It felt like magic” and sighed like a character in love in a Hallmark movie. Not the bitingly sharp, angry Megan from those first conversations after reconnecting.

Megan snorted. “You probably think I’m being sentimental.”

“It’s okay.” Scarlett didn’t want her to stop sharing.

“What about you?” Megan asked. “I told you mine. Tell me yours.”

“My what?’

“Your dream.”

Scarlett folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t have dreams.”

“Liar.” There was no malice in Megan’s tone, but the word still stung. Scarlett didn’t need to be reminded of her lies.

“Don’t call me a liar.”

“But you’re lying to me right now.” Megan still didn’t seem angry, though, in that direct way she had. She thought she was being factual. Maybe she was.

If only Scarlett had something to focus on instead of sitting here with her own thoughts. “Can I drive?”

“Why? I’ve only been driving for a little while.” Megan frowned. “Are you getting carsick or something?”