Page 1 of Totally Wrecked
DAISY
“So, there is one thing I forgot to tell you…”
“And that is?” I calmly ask my sister.
“Um, the host of the show…” she pauses.
I know who she’s talking about. “Harvey Bannister? The poor man’s Ryan Seacrest?”
She tuts and the sound comes loud and clear from the phone’s speaker. “I’d like to think Ryan Seacrest is the poor man’s Harvey Bannister, but yeah. Harvey. So, he and I are kinda having a thing.”
My brain short-circuits for a moment.
“Daze? You still there?” asks my dear sister, who I currently want to kill.
Oh yes, I’m still here—unfortunately.
“By your definition, what exactly constitutes ‘a thing’?”
“Daze, don’t get mad.”
“Brooke, I have the right to get mad. You are having an affair with HARVEY BANNISTER!”
Icannothave heard that right.
I start pacing around the hotel room. “OK, humor me here. You are doing the dirty with the host of the show, you forget to mention it to me, and everything is going to be alright? Have I got that straight?”
If only my hands could travel the 8,000 miles from Samoa to Rocky Grove, Missouri, so I could strangle my sister. To hear her begging for my mercy would be so sweet right now. I’m in over my head, and it’s all her fault.
“Daze, chill—” I can hear the sigh in her voice “—itisgonna be fine, you won’t even see him. We only ever hook up stateside. On the shoots, contestants are kept separate from the hosts. I’ve told you, the only people you’ll see are sound, video and production—you are completely in the clear.”
In the clear? I look at my reflection in a huge gilt-framed hotel mirror. My sister and I may have identical faces, but our personalities are miles apart. For example, I would never leave outimportant information—some might say CRUCIALinformation—when asking her to do me an EXTREME favor.
I realize I’m growling when my sister says, “Daze, for fucks sakes, you won’t even see him. He’ll be filming at a different location. Everything’s cool.”
Breathe, Daisy, breathe.
Harvey. Flipping. Bannister. My mind can’t move on from this revelation.
“Why are you even doing the deed with him in the first place?” I ask her.
“Firstly, can you stop saying ‘doing the deed’ like you’re twelve? Secondly, he’s alright. I kinda like him, and here’s the thing—he drops me hints about upcoming challenges, so it’s worth my while. Seriously, it’s no biggie, we’re just fucking, not making babies.”
“Doing the deed, not planting the seed…”
“And don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Make up weird rhymes when you feel awkward,” my sister says.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I sigh. “Anything else you ‘forgot’ to tell me?”
“Nope, that’s it. Just remember, I keep to myself, so don’t be chatty Daisy, alright?”
Brooke has always been a little…aloof with other people.
Probably comes with the territory of having a bigger brain and fitter body than everyone else around you. Is it a superiority complex if you are genuinely superior?
