"No." She shook her head. "Don't you Daisy me. You straight-up ignored me for over twelve hours after the meeting at The Agency. You didn't answer a single one of my texts or phone calls. What kind of sister-slash-assistant are you?"
My head dropped, and I stared at the top of the coffee table, where there was a pile of hardcovers about cities in Europe-places Daisy had never even been to, nor did she care about them. "You're right. I deserved that. But my intention wasn't to hurt you or make you feel ignored. I just wanted you to have some time to cool off-that's all." I glanced back up at her. "Time away from me, so both of our emotions could settle."
"Do you think my emotions were going to settle once I found out what show you're going to be on?" She grinned, but it wasn't out of happiness. "That I had to hear it from my team and not you?"
"I haven't signed the contract yet."
She leaned on the pillow next to her, throwing her legs over the end of the couch. "Please. You're on the verge. You're probably just demanding more money, and that's what is holding up the signing." Her lids narrowed. "So, let's spell this all out, shall we? You landed Brett fucking Young, my unicorn agent; Valerie Spears, the leading manager at his agency; and Dominick Dalton, my attorney." Her voice was getting louder by the second. "If you wanted to be me, then why didn't you say that when you moved out here? We could have skipped the whole assistant part, and I could have just handed you my life." She sighed in disgust. "Seriously, Kendall, what the fuck?"
I stared at my sister. Someone who had competed with me since I was a child.
Except it had never been a competition-at least, not in my eyes.
We were on completely different paths.
Daisy, the popular cheerleader, the center of attention, who had dated only athletes-and there had been handfuls of them. She had so many friends that she barely knew most of their names, and instead of going to college, she'd moved to LA and immediately begun auditioning for roles.
I had been the artsy kid, a paintbrush or colored pencil always somewhere in my hair, with only a handful of close friends before earning a bachelor of arts in graphic design from Northeastern. There hadn't been many relationships in my past, but the ones I'd had lasted for years-distance usually the cause of our breakup-and it would take me months and months before I could even consider moving on.
Our last name, childhood home, and our family were the only similarities.
I did me.
Daisy did her.
But that wasn't the way she saw it.
"We both know that isn't what this is about," I started, taking a long, deep breath. "I have no desire to have your life or steal anything from you. I was offered a job, and I'm considering it." I set down my coffee, the idea of drinking something warm and caffeinated making my stomach churn. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"
Her gaze was practically penetrating me. "This is about you, Kendall. You came here to make my world easier, and one of the first things you did was try to outshine me. That meeting was about me. That team-Brett, Valerie-they were supposed to eventually be mine. The TV audience I've gained is in love with me, and now, once again, I'm going to be compared to you." She crossed her arms over her chest. "This was the one thing I never had to share with you, and now, here we are. Shocker."
I hugged my arms around one of the many throw pillows. "What are you talking about?"
"You're the one everyone was always proud of, the one who crushed every goal that had been set for you, the one everyone cheered for. No one gave a shit about me. No one showed up for me. No one had any high hopes for me. It was you, you, and fucking you." She pushed herself to the edge of the couch. "But I came out here, and I made a name for myself. Suddenly, people started taking me seriously." Her lips were moving so fast that I could barely keep up. "I finally got the attention and credit owed to me, and now, this happens."
Memories from our younger years were swirling through my head-snapshots of holidays, trips, contests at school, events. How could she think this?
"That's not true, Daisy."
"No?" She glared at me. "You should see things from my side. It looks much different than your distorted reality."
"I'm not trying to take anything away from you. I'm an equal. I'm not superior in any way."
"Tell that to the bloggers when they're posting our pictures side by side, when the tabloids get wind that you'll be joining a competing show. You're going to be the hot, new, young blood, and they're going to forget about me."
She lifted a magazine from the end table and tossed it next to my coffee for me to see-a cover that had Beyoncé on it. "Do you see Solange in that photo? Do you ever see her?" Before I could respond, she added, "I didn't think so. It's always Paris, never Nicky Hilton. Kim, never Khloé Kardashian. Kate Middleton because no one gives a shit about Pippa. One sister continuously shines brighter, Kendall, and I'm telling you right now, I haven't worked this hard to have you sparkle like a fucking diamond."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I couldn't believe she wasn't able to see the love and support she had received when she was growing up, the words of encouragement, the praise, the accomplishments. That she was blind and deaf to all of it because she was so focused on my light.
"I'm sorry you feel that way." I held the pillow so tightly against me that it was making it hard for me to breathe.
"Then, do something about it. Turn down the role."
I sighed, the hurt eating at my chest. "You know, it's really sad that you think this is about winning. That we can't be in the same space and build each other up."
"It doesn't work that way. Not in Hollywood." She laughed like Cruella. "Hell, not in life."
I set the pillow aside, crossing my hands between my legs. "Why did you have me come out here? If you wanted things separate, then why bring me into your world?"
"You were barely making your rent, sharing an apartment with three roommates, with not even enough money to buy yourself a skinny margarita after a twelve-hour workday. My financial advisor said I needed to be more charitable, so instead of donating to the food bank, I contributed to you."
God, she was such a bitch.
She couldn't even admit she needed my help. It would pain her to say those words.
But she wanted me to tell her I wasn't going to take the job, that I would stay on as her assistant.
As if that request were even fair.
My sister couldn't see past her ego-that was what this conversation was really about.