Page 20 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

“Look, I’ll call Mom tonight and see if I can start sweet-talking her into canceling it.”

She squeals loudly into the phone. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re the best big brother a girl could ask for.”

“Remember that next time I need something.”

“Please, you know I always have your back, Deanie Weenie,” she teases.

I groan at the use of the nickname I hate.

“Nowyou’re pushing your luck.”

“You’re just mad because you don’t have a nickname to torture me with.”

True.“Whatever. Look, I’m gonna go. Need to shower. I’m all gross from being at the park, and I need to make some lunch. The pie I had this morning just isn’t cutting it.”

“Pie for breakfast again?”

“Says the girl drinking orange juice and champagne.”

“Mimosas are totally a breakfast food! Pie isn’t.”

“Then why does The Gravy Train sell it at breakfast?” I retort.

“First of all, that name is utterly ridiculous, and you know it. Second…you went to the diner for breakfast, didn’t you? Please tell me you did not torture your neighboragain.”

I grin. “I didn’t torture my neighbor again.”

“Liar! You should be nice to her, Dean. She’s a sweet gal.”

“How do you know? You’ve never met her.”

“She’s lived next door to you and your antics for the last year and still hasn’t murdered you. That’s a huge indication that she’s way too nice.”

I try not to roll my eyes over the fact that yet another person—my own sister, no less—is taking River’s side.

Did they ever stop to think that I torture River because she’s mean to me for no damn reason?

Sure, I’m probably way too old to be acting this juvenile, but she brings it out in me. River’s wound too tight. She needs to learn to relax and stop taking everything so seriously. She’s wearing herself down and taking it out on everyone else.

“I’ll take that into consideration next time I’m cooking up some revenge.”

Holland doesn’t bother hiding her tired sigh. “You’re something else, big brother.”

“Don’t I know it, little sister. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too…Deanie Weenie!”

The line goes dead.

Brat.

After a quick rinse in the shower, I’m back in the kitchen pulling out the fixings for a hearty grilled turkey, bacon, and cheese sandwich. I grab the skillet from the cabinet beside the stove and crank the heat. I need this baby to warm up pronto. I am famished.

“Counter robot!” I command my smart device. “Play my Morning Music playlist.”

Bob Seger’sOld Time Rock & Rollhums quietly through the apartment, and my mood instantly lifts.

I pull out two pieces of sourdough and slather butter on each one. I load the bread up with turkey and cheese then hold my hand over the pan, seeing if it’s ready for the bacon.

---