Page 61 of Her Dark Lies
My heart swells a bit, and that nasty little voice that lives inside me says—see, even Katie says you’re better than Harper—but I shove her away and demur.
“That’s very sweet, but she’s good, great even, and you know it.”
The daggers she shoots at Harper are nothing new. Katie is horribly jealous of my little sister’s following, not that I can’t sympathize. Until Jack came along, I was, too. Everything comes easy to Harper.
For Katie? Not so much. Katie’s an aspiring songwriter by day, but that vocation isn’t paying the rent, so she bartends downtown on the vampire shift, as she calls it. She’d kill to have Harper’s following. It would make her. And it will come, eventually, if she sticks with her songwriting and performing. That Harper went viral on a random, unplanned post—a beautiful photo taken of her standing on a beach at sunset, her shadow stretching behind her, with the captionNever be afraid of what scares you the most—was admittedly a fluke, but that’s life, right? You never know what might connect with someone, or infuriate them, or both. Either way, you’ve gotten an emotional response.
I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that my sister can evoke emotions in millions of people at once. She’s been doing it to me all my life.
Katie is peering at me worriedly. “Are you okay, Claire? You’re pale.”
Am I okay? Nope. Not even close. But I can’t tell her everything, and the reality of what that NDA really means crashes into me in a wave of regret. With the stroke of a pen, I am cut off from everyone. My friends. My family. I have only Jack and the rest of the Comptons in my confidence now. The thought is positively frightening.
“Claire?” Katie asks again.
“I’m okay. I got a little seasick yesterday—I’ve been lying low since I got here. Haven’t even had the full tour yet.”
I’m saved by a familiar voice calling from the hallway.
“Hellooooo? Claire? Are you in there?”
“Harper,” we say in unison, with varying degrees of happiness, and turn to welcome my sister.
Harper, loaded down with packages, barrels into the room, talking a mile a minute in broken Italian to a man I’ve not seen before who is hidden beneath a mound of bags, both suitcases and shopping.
“Si, grazie, put itecco.Per favore. Thanks. You’re the best!Buongiorno.”
I bite back my first reaction—do you have to dump all your crap in my room?—instead wave my sister out to the terrace. Harper gives me a thumbs-up, pulling her wallet out of her purse to offer a tip, which is immediately declined. She rewards the man with a smile instead, and he leaves her belongings on the floor by the door, looking utterly lovestruck.
Harper can make anyone feel special. When that smile lands on you, it’s like the sun has paraded out from behind a cloud for the first time in weeks.
We couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. I’m relatively quiet, studious, shy; I let my art speak for me. Harper is larger than life, and rarely at a loss for words. Even our coloring is in contrast—Harper is a stunning brunette with perfectly balayaged extensions and the curves to match. What I wouldn’t do for some of that bust and ass. Her hair is bought, yes, but the rest of Harper is 100 percent good old-fashioned Hunter DNA. And the extroversion...everyone knows when Harper is in the building. She lives life with gusto, throwing herself at everything, heedless of embarrassment, upsetting people, or otherwise making waves.
Not to mention she’s a seriously talented photographer and writer on top of it all. And a successful social media influencer. Whose brother-in-law is about to be Jack Compton.
The sky is the limit for @HarperHuntsLife.
Harper and I haven’t always gotten along, but lately, things have been on a good, even keel. Both of us are happy. Both are having a measure of success. Being adults has helped. Without the triple-barrel carpet bombs of teenage hormones, our father’s death, and our mother’s alcoholism, it’s easier for her to put her fury at me aside, and easier for me to forgive her eternal anger.
Harper joins us on the terrace, chattering like a jaybird. “Jack’s brother was on the ferry with us. Tyler? He’s totally hot, and there was another equally hot guy with him. How are you? You look pale. I brought all my makeup—I can get some color in your cheeks before the rehearsal if you want me to. And when are we doing the last fitting for the dress? You know you need to have it nipped once more, you just keep losing weight, lucky girl. I don’t know how—”
“Harper. Take a breath,” I say, amused. “Look around. Enjoy the moment. Listen to the rain. Exist. Isn’t that your brand strategy, existing in the moment?”
“Sorry, sorry, I’ve had about forty espressos today.”
“We can tell,” Katie replies with an eye roll.
“Where’s Mom and Brian?”
Harper’s face falls a bit. “Mom went straight to her room, she is still super jet-lagged. She...”
She breaks off, looking at Katie.
“She what?”
Harper sighs. “She had a few glasses of wine this week.”
My heart sinks. This I don’t need right now.
