Page 29 of Single Malt

“Thanks for coming tonight,” I said. “I know you just got to town this morning.”

“Glad to do it.” She looked around the room one more time. “It’s a great exhibit, and it’ll make my lectures on Monday even better.”

“Lectures?”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, Brody? You have no idea why I’m here?”

I could’ve pretended to think hard, but I didn’t think it’d be convincing since I knew I had no idea what she was talking about. I’d had some other things on my mind for the past couple weeks.

Or, rather, one person on my mind.

Besides, Paris had always been able to see right through my bullshit.

She took pity on me and didn’t make me ask. “I’m lecturing in a couple history classes on Monday.”

“I’ll never understand why you like doing those,” I said as I checked the crate to make sure everything was packed tight. Even if the bottles were empty, I didn’t want them to break, if for no other reason than it’d be a pain in the ass to clean up.

“I love you,” Paris said, “but it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t get it.”

I gave her a puzzled look.

“Do you remember how everyone reacted when you said you wanted to make whiskey for a living?”

I nodded, still not understanding where this was going. “Nobody thought I’d stick with it. Not even Da and Mom.”

“But then you showed them your business plan. You laid out everything you were going to do, step-by-step.”

“They still thought I’d quit,” I reminded her. “For the first year or so, anyway.”

“Why was that, do you think?”

I shrugged. “Probably because the only thing I’d ever really taken seriously before that was surfing.”

“So, it’d be fair to say that past behavior was the reason behind their concern.”

“That sounds right,” I agreed. “I’m still not seeing what this has to do with you giving lectures.”

“In the fifteen years or so since you decided this was what you wanted to do with your life, has anyone ever doubted your ability or how you’ve accomplished what you have based solely on what’s between your legs?” She leaned against the bar, a serious expression on her face. “Have you ever had someone say to your face that you’ve only succeeded because you’ve fucked your way to the top?”

I felt my jaw drop.

She gave me a bitter half-smile. “Or what about ‘why don’t you take care of the food, honey, so you don’t get your pretty little hands dirty.’ Or complain about your presence at a difficult dig because you’ll ‘just slow everyone down.’”

My hands curled into fists as shock gave way to anger. “Who talked to you like that?”

Her smile softened. “You can’t beat up every person who’s ever said something like that to me. There are too many to count. Our parents might not have been skeptical of my dedication to this particular career, but outside of our family, my support was mostly non-existent. I had to work twice as hard, be twice as good, just to get what men with half my brains had handed to them.”

I wasn’t an idiot. No matter how far women’s rights had come or how much better things were now than they had been even a decade ago when Paris graduated high school, things still needed to improve. I didn’t, however, realize just how much my own sisters might have had to put up with in their respective fields. Call it privilege; call it naivety. However it was labeled, it meant the same thing.

I needed to make more of an effort to be aware, become an active ally rather than a passive spectator, and I needed to start in my own business.

Right now, however, I needed to listen to what my sister had to say.

“I like speaking to students of all ages about what I do to show them all what women are capable of. Tell the girls and women not to listen to any assholes. Tell the boys and men not tobethose assholes.” She straightened and reached for the purse she’d set on the bar. “I like seeing that one kid whose eyes light up the moment they realize they can do things they’ve been told aren’t for them just because of who they are or where they’re from.”

When people looked at my sister, they saw how pretty she was, the way she dressed, but a lot of them missed the intelligence and even more overlooked her fierce strength.

And now, I realized that I’d actually been one of those who’d misjudged her, though, I hoped, not as badly. I vowed it would never happen again.