“I need you to buy condoms for me. A lot of them.”

Dead silence.

“Janey?”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“I can’t do it! It’ll be all over the island in ten minutes, and Maddie can’t deal with that.”

“Get Joe to do it.”

“He’s off-island until tomorrow.”

“So abstain for one night!”

“Janey, please. I’m desperate here.”

“You can’t ask me to do this. It’s too embarrassing.”

“How do you think I feel about asking my baby sister to do this for me?” He let out what he knew was a pathetic wail. “Janey. . . I need you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare play the need card.”

“Pretty please.”

She let out a swear that shocked him to his core. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “But you’ll owe me forever, do you hear me? There’s no statute of limitations on what you’ll owe me.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. For the rest of your natural life, anytime I say, ‘Jump’, you say, ‘How high, Janey? How high can I jump for you?’ Anytime I snap my fingers, you come running. Any. Time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“I’ll need at least a hundred dollars.”

“What the hell for?”

“Buffer items, you buffoon. I can’t just go in there and buy a gross of condoms and walk out.”

“So you’re going to soak me for a year’s supply of nail polish and tampons?”

“That’s the very least of what you owe me.”

“Fine. I’ll bring it to the vet clinic.”

“Pay me later. I can’t look at you right now. Meet me at noon behind the Beachcomber, and do not look at me. Just take the bag, give me the money and walk away.”

“I love you, Janey. Have I mentioned that lately?”

“Screw you.”

Holding back a laugh, he said, “Get the extra large ones, okay?”

“I hate you.”

Mac returned to Maddie’s and found her and Thomas still sleeping. He checked his watch and decided this would be a good time to take care of something else he’d been putting off. Taking his keys off the table, he tiptoed out of the apartment. In the driveway, he rolled the motorcycle to the street before he kick-started it. Driving along the south coast, he noticed dense fog—an island staple in June—clinging to the horizon as the sun fought to break through. Mac pulled into the parking lot at the South Point Light and killed the engine. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called his brother Evan, who was on speed dial along with Grant, Adam and Janey.

“Hey, man,” Evan said.

“Did I wake you up? You sound rough.”

“Nah, late night, but I’m on the way to the studio now. What’s up with you?”

“This and that. How’re you? How’s the recording going?” After years of struggle and toil, a small Nashville label had recently signed Evan.

“It’s the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.”