Page 32 of Single Malt

A moment later, Karina came back on the line. “Freedom?”

I switched back to Spanish as I told her that I was on my way and to stay where she was. She gave me what sounded like an agreement and then hung up.

I reached for the same clothes I’d just discarded and quickly re-dressed. My exhaustion had shifted to the sort of bone-weary tired that came with having to force myself to do what was necessary when I only wanted to sleep. But I would go because that was what I did. I honored my responsibilities, and right now, that was Karina.

Besides, it wasn’t like this was the first time I’d had to put my duty to another person above what I wanted or needed. That came with being a big sister, especially when the little sister was so delicate.

Karina, however, wasn’t delicate or a relative, so my obligation to her wasn’t nearly as extensive. I’d still go pick her up to prevent her from being assaulted or doing something stupid like getting in the car with someone who was drunk, but I wasn’t planning to be nice about it.

My frustration and annoyance grew as I made my way through the streets to the fraternity. Even though I’d been here for the last seven years, I hadn’t spent much time on this part of the campus, but I didn’t worry about getting lost. Partially because the directions were easy, but also because I knew I’d see partygoers in all stages of inebriation.

Sure enough, a man wearing a beer hat and a woman with a glow sticks necklace stumbled in front of my car, causing me to slam on my brakes and nearly hit my face on the steering wheel. I cursed but waved them through. I doubted they’d remember this in the morning, so anything I would yell at them would most likely be lost in an alcoholic haze.

I parked across the street to hopefully avoid getting blocked in because I wanted to make this as quick as possible. I’d never been the type of person who enjoyed parties like this, but not because I was a pretentious snob who only wanted to attend events that offered wine and caviar. Rather, I was the kind of person who preferred to spend time with a select few people rather than a crowd. My preference for one-night stands was pretty much the only time I liked interacting with strangers.

I pushed those thoughts aside, not wanting to take the road that would inevitably lead me to…him. When I stepped inside, the smell hit me like a punch to the gut. Beer. Pot. Lots of cologne and body spray. And body odor.

It was not a good combination.

I took a step to the side to get out of the doorway and then scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar tipsy teenager. I recognized a couple of the partygoers, but it took me a few minutes to finally spot the one I was looking for. She was dancing with a tall, dark-haired man I thought I’d seen around the sociology department.

I was halfway to her when she saw me, and she waved enthusiastically, bouncing up and down, a wide smile on her face. “Freedom!”

The man with her gave me one of those up-and-down looks that meant he was probably imagining what I looked like naked. Not that he’d ever know. If I wanted to get laid, I looked outside the student body. The last thing I needed to worry about if I decided to pursue an academic career at Stanford was a former tryst showing up in a class. The chances would be thin, but I’d had yet to meet a man who’d be worth the risk.

“Let’s go.” I leaned close to her but still had to shout into her ear.

She shouted something in Spanish and grabbed my hand. I couldn’t quite tell what she’d said, but I got the impression she wanted me to dance. I shook my head and switched our hands so that I had ahold of hers. I pulled her closer and spoke in Spanish.

“Time to go.”

She pouted but didn’t try to get away as I led her toward the door. I could handle her complaining, but if she decided to be stubborn and plant her feet, I’d have to decide if it would be worth it to force her to leave. I was leaning toward washing my hands of her if that was the case. I wasn’t her babysitter.

Dr. Ipres was great, and I wasn’t upset with her for asking me to look out for Karina. I could have said no without risking her displeasure. She would have found someone else and never thought ill of me for declining. But I would’ve felt guilty, and so I’d accepted.

I didn’t regret having taken on the responsibility, but I was definitely looking forward to never having to even consider taking on this type of thing again.

Only a few months until graduation.

Twenty

Brody

New York Cityon the second day of February was cold as hell, and even with the freezing rain clinging to my hair and eyelashes, I was glad to be here. I was pretty much as far from home as I could get and still be in the country, and I’d never been happier to step out of the airport and greet my younger brother Carson.

Maggie and London lived here too, but neither of my sisters had cars, so Carson had offered to come get me. Even though I was staying at a hotel, I’d accepted his offer of a ride. While I was here for business, I planned on spending some time with my siblings and doing whatever I could to forget about the last month, but I also didn’t want to bother them with the hours I’d be keeping due to the business I was here to visit.

“How was the flight?” Carson asked as he opened the trunk of his car.

“A little bumpy once we crossed the Mississippi,” I said, “but otherwise fine.”

Carson and Cory – the older of the two sets of twins in my family – were fraternal with slightly different shades of red and brown in their hair, one with blue eyes and one with green, and about an inch of difference in height. Their features, however, were similar enough that they could sometimes be confused if they weren’t standing side-by-side. At the moment, though, they weren’t even in the same time zone.

“At least the rain didn’t start until just before you landed,” he said as he started the car. “Later flights will probably be delayed or canceled. It’s supposed to go on like this all day.”

“Damn.” I grimaced as I looked up at the sky. “I don’t get how you can live with this weather.”

He laughed. “Just because you’re a stereotypical California surfer doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t handle the cold.”