Strong Hate (A Thin Line #1)

by R. D. Berg

  “Fucking priceless.” Harlow cheers. “That’s why you’re my best friend. Well, that and your obvious gangsta ways.”

  “Well looks like the party is over here.” Sue sweetly interrupts. Boys I didn’t expect you to take me so literally,” her eyes dart to every face at the table, before settling back on mine, “but I approve.” She me gives a reassuring wink.

  “Sue, this is my little sister Harlow,” I wave my hand in Harlow’s direction, “and her best friend, Lundyn.” I toss my head toward the devil herself.

  She smiles sweetly and nods, “Well nice to meet you girls. What can I get ya?” Lundyn excitedly orders pancakes, bacon and hash browns, and Harlow decides to get an omelet. Right after Sue leaves Finn and I’s food is delivered, the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs cause my mouth to water.

  Placing a fork in my eggs, my bacon magically disappears before my eyes. “Order your own!” I try to grab it out of Lundyns grasp, but then she wraps her lips around it. I give up, because if I keep looking at her, I’m gonna have a hard time getting up from this table with a reasonable excuse as to why there’s a tent in my pants. “So, you’re moving in with Harlow?”

  “Back where she belongs! She should’ve never moved off in the first place.” Harlow throws her arms over her chest to cross them.

  “Why did you leave?” Finn mumbles around a mouth full of pancakes.

  “Because her mom up and left and she thought she was,” Harlow rolls her eyes so hard, I’m scared they might get stuck before dragging out the words, “All alone.”

  Half wanting the truth and half being the asshole she claims I am I knock my shoulder against her small one. “Was that the only reason?”

  She darts her eyes to me so fast, I’m not sure she actually did it. “Sometimes we just need a new start, ya know?”

  The only thing I wanted last night was a fluffy stack of pancakes with a side of crispy bacon. Instead, I got a cocky stack of Maverick with his alluring hazel eyes, and a heaping side of nosy Finn. When I left Lansing, he was just a smart mouth bartender at the Brew Crew who at twenty-five still didn’t know where his life was heading. Now, I return and he looks like he just stepped right out of next year’s edition of the America’s Hottest Cops calendar.

  “Earth to Lundyn.” My head jerks up as Harlow’s voice brings me back to the present, where my thoughts aren’t swirling with Maverick and regret.

  “Yeah, what were you saying?” I feign interest in her conversation even though I haven’t been listening to a word she’s said. Shit like this is why I hate him, he plays these mind fuck games like he did at the table. He knows good and well why I left in the first place, yet he wanted to poke my burning flames just to see me falter. Here’s the truth, only two people know half the reason – Harlow and Mom. And only two people know the full reason – Maverick and me.

  “LUNDYN!” Harlow yells, grabbing my shoulders and squaring them with hers.

  “What the hell is up with you?” Her hazel eyes, with just a speck of gold, search my face.

  “What?” I shrug out of her grasp, taking two steps over to the bed where my suitcase is thrown open. I begin to shuffle through my clothes, not looking for anything in particular. Harlow’s huffs like a steaming kettle, before she stops to stand by my side. I wince as her unusually strong fingers ding into my shoulder turning me face her. One thing about Harlow Strong, she hates being ignored, and it’s evident with the annoyed expression that’s painted on her face. This time, I don’t dare shrug out of her death grip.

  “Well, for one thing, you’ve been picking at this same pile of clothes for the last thirty minutes.” She blows a piece of stray hair from her forehead that’s escaped from her lavender messy bun before putting up two fingers. “And second, I’ve asked you four times if you wanted to come and work for me at the salon, and you haven’t responded.” My mouth opens to offer some sort of excuse, but it just hangs there; I have nothing. “And I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t tell you that you look as if you are seconds away from a 2007 Brittany Spears breakdown.”

  One thing Harlow is good at is calling me on my shit. That’s one of the many qualities I admire about her no filter having ass. But, how can I tell my best friend that I am all types of emotionally fucked up due to her condescending, hot as hell older brother? As far as her knowledge goes, when I left it was only because of my mom getting married, and me feeling like my life was stale.

  I wave my hands dismissively attempting to thwart her accusations. “I’m just trying to make a game plan Lo, my life always seems to be in shambles. For once I just want a plan to actually stick, and I don’t mean up my ass.” Her expression goes soft, her death grip on my shoulders eases.

  “I hear ya, Lundy.” Harlow’s only twenty-three, but her forehead wrinkles in concentration as if she’s eighty-five. My hair lifts from my shoulders as she takes it between her slender fingers and twirls the long strands. “Let’s get your life together starting with this hair of yours.”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” My face scrunches in borderline offense. It is a little dry to due to the climate in Virginia, and I had a hell of a time finding a hair stylist that came close to Harlow’s skills. Without speaking a word, she pivots me around, and moves so our feet shuffle across the floor as she drags me until we are in front of the dresser mirror. Her reflection appears next to mine, as she tilts her head and squints.

  “Well, Lundy, it looks like crusted over dog shit.” She nods her head once confirming her observation. My jaw goes slack, but instead of being mad, I double over allowing my hands to rest on the dresser as laughter bubbles out.

  “Dammit Lo, you’re right, it does look like shit.” I manage to croak out between breaths.

  “No hooker lips, crusted over dog shit,” she replies through her own high pitch fit of laughter. “You don’t know how hard it was to hold that in all day.”

  “You better be glad you’re my best friend. Otherwise, I’d tit punch you.”

  Our giggles fade as we make our way to my bed where we sit on top of my mountain of clothes that are strewn across the bedspread.

  “I sure have missed you, girl,” I say as Harlow settles herself against my headboard. She looks up unexpectedly, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face.

  Her face softens, “I know, talking about your hair in person isn’t quite as exciting as over Facetime.” A small smile creeps over her face. “But for reals, I really am glad that boss of yours was such a bitch.”

  I scowl at the mention of Olivia. “Ugghhh, that bitch was,” my index and thumb join, “this close to getting her teeth knocked in.”

  “Gangsta Spence, that’s my girl.” We fist bump, then blow it up. That’s about as deep as it’s going to go with Harlow.

  Out the corner of my eye, I catch a light flash on my nightstand. Harlow reaches over and retrieves her iPhone to see what prompted the notification. Something causes a smile to spread across her flawless face and her fingers to move like an eager teenager as she types what I assume is a text message.

  Her face remains entranced with her phone, and she doesn’t notice when I toss my bra at her. Lucky for her, it whizzes by her head missing it by just a hair, just before it lands on my headboard. “What the hell are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing,” she says impassively with a shrug.

  “Liar, you’re talking to a guy aren’t you?” My tone remains playful, not accusatory.

  I reach out and grab the phone. She doesn’t protest or attempt to grab it back. I look down to see a handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed guy smiling back at me from his picture on the screen. The name displayed underneath is Levi. My nose scrunches in confusion. “Who’s Levi?”

  She peers over my shoulder. “Oh shit, I thought I swiped right, do it for me.”

  I comply and swipe his picture right with my index finger. The screen lights up with the words MATCHED, centered in a huge heart shape.

  I still have no idea what the hell I am looking at.
“Lo, what the hell is this? Some sort of dating app?” I peel my eyes away from Levi to see Harlow’s eyebrows waggle and her eyes light up with excitement.

  ‘Umm hmm, did I match with Levi the sexy Leo?”

  “Yeah.” I turn the phone outward for proof. “You don’t actually meet these guys do you?”

  She reaches out, yanking the phone from my hand. “Of course I do, Lansing's well of men ran dry years ago.” She looks at me from underneath her false lashes.

  “I mean isn’t that dangerous?” My finger finds a piece of fabric and begins to play with it, while I wait for her response.

  “Not when your brother is a cop and makes sure you have mace, and you’re packing Betsy.”

  “Wait, who’s Betsy?”

  “My Glock,” she states simply.

  My mouth hangs open, as I think of all the crazy things Harlow did as a kid and now she’s added a gun to her line-up. “Who’s gangsta now, Lo?” I half smile half laugh.

  She leaps up from the bed, ignoring my question, and crosses the room to get my iPhone from the dresser. “So anyway, we are going to set up a profile for you.” She swipes her finger over the screen.

  “No, Lo. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” She doesn’t bother looking up from the phone as she busies herself with ignoring my disagreement.

  Because your brother might find out. Wait, what the hell am I thinking? Why do I even care if Maverick finds out?

  “Lundy, you have no decent pics of you on here. Geez was Virginia that boring?”

  I leap from the bed and go over to where she is reaching for the phone. “I don’t want a profile, Lo.” She jerks it out of my grasp and thrusts her free arm out holding me at arm's length.

  “We all have one; Maverick, Finn and me.” She scowls as she says Finn’s name. Odd. That doesn’t deter my shock of her saying Maverick is using this app too.

  “What’s Maverick doing with it? I thought he was with Kellie?” I say passively, trying to hide the disgust that comes with saying Kellie’s name.

  “Hell, no. He broke up with her ass two days after you left town. The bitch was stealing money from him. Thought I told you that?”

  “No, Harlow, you didn’t.” My voice might be laced with a bit more annoyance than it should, but how could my best friend be so absent-minded? That doesn’t negate the fact that Maverick has this app also.

  A seed of jealousy is planted, and I water it by hastily agreeing to Harlow’s request. “Fine, go ahead then, set it up.”

  She relaxes her arm and looks at me surprised. “Are you serious?”

  “Hell, you were going to do it anyway, with or without my permission.”

  “Yeah, well, you have a point there. Anyway, we’ll take some pics tomorrow once we do your hair.” She beams at me like a giddy teenager.

  Lazily I fall to the bed landing across it on my stomach. I grab one of the plush pillows that line my headboard tucking it underneath my arms as I rest my chin on the fresh detergent scented softness. “Fine.” I huff out, suddenly not having the energy to debate with her on the subject any longer. She fires off different areas around town we can take pics, what I could wear and how she can style my make-up. My ears don’t register anything until something about Maverick and a gun. “Wait rewind Lo, what did you say about Mav?”

  She doesn’t realize I haven’t been listening. “Oh, I said we’ll get with Maverick so we can get you a new gun and go to the range. Good thing your mom made you get your CHL years ago.”

  Smiling to myself, I check out again, not paying attention to any of the nonsense she’s yapping about as I lay there fantasying about the perfect scenario I’ve been presented with; Maverick, a gun and me.

  “You’re gonna have to repeat that Harlow.” Hopefully, I heard her wrong, although there isn’t anything to distract my attention from her as she stands on my front porch.

  “Lundyn needs a gun, and we both could use some range time. Don’t you want us safe?” She gives me her pouty face and sad eyes, knowing good and damn well that I can’t deny my little sister anything.

  “Of course,” I agree with what feels like an uneasy grin, or is that just my stomach? “I would like to stay alive as well, and I’m pretty sure you just asked me to give a terrorist a gun—and with me within shooting range.”

  “She’s not going to shoot you,” Harlow huffs out and adds with a finger pointed at my chest, “But if you keep callin’ her a terrorist, I can’t make any promises.”

  “I’ll think about it— and Finn will be there if I am. You know, for backup.”

  “Maverick Strong, are you scared of Lundyn?” Her voice drips heavily with sarcasm while her hand rests against her chest in mock shock.

  “She’s the stubborn one who refuses to set foot in my house.” I take a step outside the doorway. “Come to think of it—” I snap my fingers while looking out into the driveway at an indifferent Lundyn sitting in the car. “Vampires can’t come into house’s they aren’t invited into.”

  “It’s daytime,” she deadpans. Not amused by my find.

  “Maybe her best friend is a witch and gave her magic to be in the sunlight? Look at her… she’s so…pale.”

  “Did you just call me a witch?” Harlow shoves me but is unsuccessful at making me budge.

  “Is that all you heard in this conversation? Your best friend is a vampire. There’s more to worry about here than your witch tendencies.”

  “I hate to say this, I mean, it almost kills me, but I regret the day we binged all seasons of The Vampire Diaries.” She places her hands on her hips, scrunching up her work attire a bit.

  “Should have listened to me and watched “SOA.”” We debated for about ten minutes that day, until she gave me ‘the look’ and got what she wanted.

  “Lesson learned.” Harlow laughs, and it’s contagious. “When are you going to make nice with Lundyn? It would make things so much easier.” She sighs glancing back toward her friend.

  Her idea of making nice and mine have two totally different definitions. Trust me, she doesn’t want me to make nice with her best friend.

  “Not gonna happen.” I shake my head for emphasis. “Don’t you have to be at the salon?” It’s Saturday, one of her busiest work days.

  She gives me ‘the look,’ and I’m positive this is the only time she won’t get her way. It just can’t happen. The hate between Lundyn and I is too strong.

  Letting out a big breath of air, Harlow gives up. “Fine. Be a stubborn man. Will you at least set up the gun range outing?”

  “Finn and I will, yes.” I emphasize Finn’s name to drive my point home. Lundyn may end up with a water gun, but I’ll schedule the damn range day. I won’t however, give her a deadly weapon to aim at my balls. I’m not stupid.

  “Thanks, you’re the best big bro there ever was.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I smile when Harlow places a kiss on my cheek and bounds down my driveway to her car.

  Harlow should really be careful. Maybe I should buy her some wooden stakes, you know, just in case.

  “I think we should lighten your hair up a bit and put some teal peek-a-boo highlights in.” Harlow talks to me through the mirror at her station, as she fluffs out my hair.

  Knowing that arguing with her is going to get me nowhere, I agree. “Sure, whatever you want Lo.”

  “Eek!” She claps rapidly and runs off to gather the coloring supplies.

  I take a heavy breath, allowing a mixture of scented shampoos and hair dye to greet my senses. I release it as I stare back at my pale reflection in the mirror. Damn Virginia didn’t do much for my complexion. I do need some sun or to fake bake. I watch Harlow through the mirror as she approaches with her tray of supplies. Little black bowls with pointed sticks shuffle back and forth as she pushes it over the uneven tiled floor. I swivel my chair when she finally reaches me.

  “How come you didn’t tell me I look like freaking Casper the Friendly Ghost?”

  Shock
mixed with a tinge of confusion invades her perfectly contoured face. “Huh?”

  I circle my index finger around my face. “I’m pale as fuck.”

  She regards me for a moment before she starts to giggle, and then I follow suit. “Yeah, Maverick did say you were looking sort of Interview with Vampire-ish earlier.”

  My friendly smile quickly disappears from my face. “He what?”

  “He said you looked like a vampire.” She taps her finger against her chin. “Actually, he said you are a terrorist vampire or some shit.”

  “He called me a terrorist?” I firmly state as I stand from my chair. I want off this rickety rollercoaster called Maverick. He makes me overthink and overreact as his personality turns and dips.

  “Quit being a Dramatic Donna. It was just a joke, Lundy.” She rolls her eyes, as she begins to mix the colors together for my perfect shade of teal. “If it makes you feel any better he called me a witch.”

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, I lazily plop back down in the chair and cross my arms. He’s such a grade A jerk, and someone needs to knock him down off of his high horse. I knew I should’ve flipped him the bird when he was in the doorway earlier. That smug, sexy smile he was wearing screamed trouble. Why am I even referring to his smile as sexy? He’s a troll. A gnarly troll with nasty fingernails that can’t wait to dig into his prey or rip their heart to shreds.

  “No, it doesn’t, and I don’t see why you accept that form of verbal abuse from him,” I state flatly.

  “Well, what are big brothers placed on this earth for?” She shrugs off my statement and places a polka-dotted cape around my neck.

  “Pompous ass troll,” I mumble under my breath when she turns her back.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh nothing, just thinking of how much I loathe your brother. One of these days, the gasoline he keeps dousing on my fire is going to explode in his face.”

  My chair is involuntary whirls around, as Harlow adjusts it to her workable height.

  “Well, for now, just let that fire simmer. We are about to get you all beautified, and Swipe Right ready.”