Page 62 of Single Malt

I looked up from zipping up my pants and found her holding something in her hand. It took me a moment to realize what she had. Her underwear. The same underwear I’d torn off just a couple minutes ago.

Oops.

I opened my mouth to apologize but closed it again when my phone rang. Each of my siblings had their own ringtones, and “Bad Reputation” was assigned to Paris. All my younger siblings preferred texting, so for Paris to call, it meant something was probably wrong.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, my pulse already picking back up, though this time it wasn’t from physical exertion. “Paris?”

“Hey, big brother.”

My eyes narrowed. Her tone was a familiar one, and it helped ease some of my anxiety. If she was starting things with that familiar phrase, it couldn’t be too bad.

Still, I knew she had a reason for calling. “Are you okay?”

“Technically, yes.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “You had a reason for calling me, Paris. What’s going on?”

“My date took me paragliding, and we had a little…accident.”

“Paris.”

“The short version is that my left shoulder is dislocated, and I need someone to pick me up from the hospital because I’m not calling that chauvinistic dick after he blamed me for it.”

She sounded more annoyed than anything else, which told me she was okay, or at least as okay as she could be with a dislocated shoulder. I didn’t ask why she’d called me instead of our parents or even one of our other siblings who lived in the area. I knew the answer to that, and it had nothing to do with location. And even though she’d been staying with our parents while she was between digs, for something like this, she still would’ve called me first.

Even though Paris and I weren’t biologically related, we liked to joke that she’d gotten her love of thrill-seeking from me. After all, I was the one who’d introduced her to surfing when she was a kid. Even now, when she wanted to do something crazy, she came to me to ask how to do it safely if I thought it was something she should avoid.

Like paragliding.

The main two things I always told her were to make sure she followed all safety guidelines, and if a place didn’t practice them, leave. As far as I knew, she’d followed those rules every time, but just because she didn’t mean other people did too, and it also didn’t mean that accidents didn’t happen.

She’d called me because she’d known I wouldn’t freak out or lecture her about doing something dangerous.

“What hospital are you at?” I asked.

“Kaiser ER in San Leandro.”

I looked at my watch. “All right. I’m not familiar with that hospital, but from Stanford to San Leandro should take me about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, depending on traffic.”

She didn’t ask me why I was in Stanford, and even though I had a completely legitimate business reason, I was relieved that I didn’t have to come up with something to say while Freedom was right here. I didn’t know what she wanted to call what we’d just done, but if she thought I sounded dismissive, it would hurt her.

“All right. I’m not going anywhere.”

As the call ended, I turned around to tell Freedom that I needed to go pick up my sister from the hospital and found that I was alone. I hadn’t heard Freedom leave, but she had. It wasn’t as if she could’ve been hiding in here. I double-checked my clothes and stepped out to thank Freedom for giving me some privacy. Except she wasn’t waiting in the hall.

Assuming that she’d gone back to the main room so as to prevent anyone from seeing her standing around outside of a supply closet, which would’ve been hard to explain, I went the same way. I’d take a few seconds to fill her in before I headed out. Paris wasn’t in any danger, and if I’d asked her, she would’ve told me to explain things to Freedom, even if it meant making her wait just a little bit longer.

But a scan around the room as I made my wait to the doors showed that Freedom wasn’t here. Or at least not visible. Which meant she had to be avoiding me. I supposed that was better than her being pissed at me for us hooking up at an event again.

I wished I had the time to find her and let her know why I had to go, but I had a feeling that if I had to hunt her down, Freedom would want to talk a lot more than just a simple “hey, I have to go.” I couldn’t make Paris waitthatlong. After Paris was taken care of, I’d reach out to Freedom and tell her what had happened. Right now, though, I had to think about what Paris would want to do since she clearly didn’t want our parents to know about her accident. That was where my focus needed to be.

Forty-One

Freedom

I really hoped that “Bad Reputation”by Joan Jett wasn’t some sort of foreshadowing, but the fact that I was holding my now-unwearable panties, I felt that it didn’t bode well for me.

And then he answered the phone.