“Jonah!” Candice calls out, waving at me with a grin on her face. She looks stupidly happy tucked into Nathan’s side. “Come here! We have a table.”
I grab my beer and guitar and make my way through the throngs of people. When I get there, Tomás and Jenny are bickering over who is going to get the first round, and the only seat left is next to Winnie. I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should sit next to her or not. Whenever I’m around Winnie, I end up saying shit I shouldn’t. I careen between insulting her with words like ditz or bimbo, or telling her that she’s worth figuring out. The poor woman must think I’m crazy.
“Hi,” I say as I sit down.
“You play?” Winnie asks, not answering my greeting and just staring at the guitar at our feet.
“And sing.”
“Oh, what kind of songs?” She sounds genuinely interested.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” I tell her. “I’ll be up there before the end of the night.” There’s an awkward pause, where Winnie just fiddles with her necklace, so I continue and say, “Will you be on stage tonight too?”
“What do you mean?” She whips her head up and looks at me, her face inscrutable.
“Just that pageant queens normally have talents. Like singing or dancing, right?” I’m joking, hoping to get her to come out of her shell a bit, but it has the opposite effect. She just retreats further inside of herself.
“No, I don’t have any talents like that,” is all she says.
Across the table I catch Beau’s eye, and he just shakes his head slightly, I guess to tell me that I shouldn’t dig any further. Once again, I’m left wondering what secrets are lurking behind those ocean deep eyes, hidden behind that sunny smile.
“Okay, fair enough. Want me to get you a drink? I’m heading to the bar.”
“That part has been taken care of already!” Tomás says, twirling a tray of drinks over us, and then placing them down with a flourish. Jenny is right behind him with more, and it seems the two decided to get the first round together after all.
“Spicy margaritas! And I got Ronda to add Tajín to the rim, so they’re extra spicy. At least to some of you,” he says, waving his hands at us.
Beau takes a sip of his and chokes a bit, and Tomás pounds him on the back while laughing. “See? Can’t handle even a bit of spice.”
“Give me one of those,” Winnie says, reaching across the table. “I haven’t been properly drunk in...well, shit, I don’t even remember. A long time.”
“Win, it’s not like you to curse.” Candice untangles herself from Nathan and grabs two of the drinks.
“I know,” Winnie says, and then gulps down half her margarita. The Tajín leaves a red rim on her bottom lip. For some reason, I picture myself dragging my thumb across that lip and wiping it away, then sucking it off. I, unlike Beau, love spice.
I shake the image out of my head, because from the moment we met, it’s been clear that we’re opposites with little hope of getting along beyond being cordial. She’s a poised and polished queen, and I’m just the grumpy, small town farrier. I’ve already had enough heartbreak to last a life time, and I’m smart enough to know that she’d never be interested in a man like me.
“But hey, I’m allowed to curse now, so you know, eff-it!” Winnie continues.
“You mean fuck it, babe,” Jenny says. “Fuck. It.”
“Fuck it!” Winnie calls back, downing the rest of her drink. Her face is slightly flushed now, and the blank look is gone. It’s been replaced by a smile, a real one too.
I guess in addition to not wearing jeans, pageant queens can’t curse either. It doesn’t sound like a very good job, frankly, and I get why Winnie is elated to have quit. It makes me wonder why she started doing it in the first place.
On the small stage at the front of the bar, Ronda walks up to the mic and introduces the first performer. It’s a woman named Jewel who I’ve seen play many times. Her music is mellow and folksy, and her voice is a soft, bell-like soprano. We tried doing a duet together one time, but our voices didn’t mix well. Mine is too gravely and hers is too delicate. Still, we’ve stayed friends and I always support her gigs when I can.
Jewel thanks Ronda and then launches into one of her originals. It’s a slow ballad that tells the story of a woman who lost her lover during a flood. It’s heart breaking, and has the entire bar held captive for a few minutes. I even catch Winnie wiping her eyes as Jewel finishes the song. She curls her handsinto tight fists in her lap afterwards, like she’s trying to keep herself from crying more.
“You alright?” I ask.
“She just sings really beautifully, that’s all. I’m fine,” she says, shutting the question down.
I can tell it’s something more than that though, especially when she has to wipe another tear away. But she’s made it clear that she’s not interested in sharing with me, or even admitting that anything is wrong. Yet another reason why I shouldn’t be imagining doing anything to her lips, or taking note of how she looks.
I turn away from Winnie and look back at the stage. Ronda catches my eye from across the room and jerks her head towards the stage.
Looks like I’m up.
