Page 39 of Hairpin Curves

“I don’t have anything really red.” Megan stuck with all light pinks whenever she got makeup, which wasn’t very often. Red was showy and ostentatious, and she wasn’t the type of person to try to get noticed.

Scarlett rummaged in her bag and pulled out a lipstick. “Here. Let me.” She touched Megan’s chin, gently tilting her head back, and then began to apply the lipstick with focused precision. Megan tried not to shiver as Scarlett held her face perfectly still, her attention locked onto Megan’s lips. When she finished, they held that pose, and desire flared up in Megan like a flashover. She wanted to lean forward and ruin that perfect lipstick against Scarlett’s berry-red mouth.

Scarlett stepped back hastily, like she could read Megan’s mind. “There.” She fumbled the cap back onto the lipstick. “That looks great.”

The effect was striking. Megan’s mouth looked so full and lush, like a ripe fruit. She looked like she’d been kissing someone instead of just imagining it.

“Hang on to it,” Scarlett told her, handing over the lipstick. “To reapply.”

They went to a little barbecue place not far from the hotel so they wouldn’t have to walk far to get to the Opry. Conversation was mostly about food and music, light topics, and the tension underneath Megan’s skin had nothing to do with the conversation but about all the things they weren’t saying. She knew she was still upset with Scarlett, but the reasons for that anger felt more nebulous the farther into this trip they went. By the time they were seated at the show, it was hard to latch onto anything but her own excitement and the aching desire now settling into her bones like it had always been there. Maybe it had.

Then, the big red curtain went up, and Megan’s focus shifted to something far more immediate and transporting.

When the first performer began singing, Megan’s breath left her. Why didn’t she go see more live music? Why didn’t she do this all the time?

“She’s incredible,” Scarlett said breathlessly when the first song was done and the audience applauded. “And she’s the opener.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” This place felt holy, even with the riotous applause and the loud music, the experience resonating in Megan’s body was like when she used to go to church concerts as a little kid with her grandmother and feel the music shake her down to the core. Tears filled her eyes, even though the songs weren’t sad. She wanted to hold Scarlett’s hand. She wanted to dissolve in this music. She wanted to lose herself and never find herself again.

By the time the show finished, hours later, Megan was wrung-out and exhilarated. Her emotions bounced all over the place, and she struggled to hold the camera steady to photograph the big guitar in front of the building. As she watched the image develop, Scarlett asked her how she was doing. She ended up shaking her head, struggling to articulate her feelings. “I...never get to hear music like that. It’s so consuming. It’s the way music should be.” Being here, listening to people who had devoted their lives to this art, evoked a longing inside Megan like a tangible ache. At the same time, she felt transported and transcendent.

“You gonna be okay?” Scarlett asked, nudging her.

“Yes? And no. That was amazing.” Megan felt giddy. “I can’t go back to the hotel and sleep right now.”

“Good.” Scarlett pointed down the street. “There’s a bar a few blocks over doing karaoke, and we’re going. All right?”

Megan nodded, still a little dizzy, and tucked the photo carefully into an envelope in her pocket. She wouldn’t say no to anything right now. “All right.”

Ah, damn, Megan was drunk. Okay, it wasn’t like it was an actual surprise; she’d planned on getting drunk the moment Scarlett had mentioned karaoke. Maybe, if she was honest, she had planned on getting drunk ever since the morning when she’d realized she was going to have to deal with her feelings for Scarlett and whatever weird form they were taking. Maybe knowing they were coming to Nashville was enough of a reason. But even if all those things hadn’t been true, they’d gone to a bar, she’d sung some songs, and she’d had several very strong drinks. Bar snacks hadn’t done much for absorbing the alcohol, and even with a few waters in her, she was going to feel it in the morning.

But right now? Right now, the judgmental side of her brain was blissfully quiet, and it had warmed up enough that the night was pleasantly cool rather than bone-chillingly cold, and she and Scarlett were walking very close together down a sidewalk toward a beautiful and well-lit park. They kept bumping against each other as they walked, and Megan wanted to grab Scarlett’s arm to steady herself, and so she did. She didn’t stop herself from giggling. She didn’t blame it all away on the alcohol, either, even though Scarlett would probably think that’s what it was.

“Are you even drunk?” Megan looked up at Scarlett, who was only an inch or so taller but sometimes felt larger than life, and tried to tell from her eyes. Ha! Like she’d be able to tell in her own inebriated state. Scarlett’s gentle smile indicated that she was thinking just such a thing.

“I wouldn’t drive, that’s for sure. But I don’t think I’m as drunk as you.” Scarlett gave her a little nudge with her elbow.

“I don’t get drunk that much. It’s nice.” Megan’s smile felt lazy. The dichotomy in her body warranted further investigation; on one hand, she was alert and alive, all her nerve endings firing like she was hyperaware of her senses and her surroundings. But on the other hand, she was sleepy, slow, lazy, not worried about anything. “What about you? Do you drink a lot?”

“Not anymore.” Scarlett looked like she had thoughts about that, and Megan didn’t want her to stay quiet. They’d reached the park, and they stopped beneath a streetlight, not willing to sit but still lingering.

“You did but you don’t much anymore. Tell me.” Megan faced Scarlett and took both of her hands. They should really get gloves. Her hands were freezing.

Scarlett looked at their hands together like she didn’t know what to make of them, her brow furrowing. She stared without speaking for a long time before looking back into Megan’s eyes. “All right. You want some honesty? Here you go. I drank a lot while I lived in New York. It got to be a shortcut for relaxing. I was first drinking with people, then I was drinking alone. One night I woke up passed out in a subway station with no memory of how I got there, so I stopped drinking.”

Megan felt a trickle of soberness return to her, the icy realization of truth pushing a bit of her fog away. “I’m sorry. Do you... Should you have done it tonight?”

Scarlett smiled gently. “It’s fine. I’m not an alcoholic. I can drink in moderation. I just needed to get it out of my system to get some new habits. Now I have new habits, and if I drink, it’s okay.”

“I don’t do anything fun, Scarlett.” The words were tumbling out before Megan could stop them. She even slurred a few, and god, maybe she was too far gone for this. Scarlett might not even think she was in her right mind. “I don’t. I work and I come home and I don’t do anything. I don’t go anywhere. I fuck people and I don’t let myself open up to them. I put everybody else first and I don’t know how to do anything different. My whole life is shit.”

Scarlett’s laugh broke the quiet of the night.

“Don’t make fun of me!” Megan pulled her hands back.

“No, you just don’t swear a lot. It’s sweet.”

Megan was annoyed by that, too. “Don’t call me sweet! It’s patronizing.” It took her two tries to get through the word patronizing.