Theodora Twist Read Online Free Page A

pokes her head in to tell me the cast and crew party starts at ten. Great. That only leaves me one hour with Bo and Brandon. After tomorrow I won’t see them for months.
    If a reporter ever asked me a real question, such as: Are you in love with Bo and Brandon? Either/or? I’d be so tempted to give the real answer, which is a big fat yes. I know that sounds a little crazy, being in love with two guys—brothers—but they’re so alike that it’s impossible to love one and not the other. I met them together (we were presenters at an awards show) and I fell for them together. When I’m with Bo and Brandon, I don’t think. Ever. I just feel.
    Larissa hands me my disguise: an ugly wig of mousy brown wavy hair, nonprescription horn-rims, jeans, a khaki blazer, and a string bikini (much more comfortable than the underwire bra I’ve been trapped in). My sticky tape is beginning to itch. I can’t wait to put on my tiny white tank top and white yoga pants and bare feet when I’m back in my room.
    But first I have to get through the fake “you were so great’s” and all the air kisses, including European style on both cheeks, even though everyone in the room is American. Ashley can’t make the cast and crew party, which means I’m free to be me.
    “Be a good girl,” she says, slapping me on the ass on her way out, her own personal assistant trailing after her.
    Freedom! I head into the private bathroom to change, then race out of the press area, my disguise saving me. The hotel is packed, but no one gives me a second glance. I get in the elevator with a waiting crowd and stand in front of the laminated poster of Family.
    “Stop biting your nails!” a woman whispers at the teenage girl sulking next to her. “Jesus, Carrie, would you stand up straight ? Why are you slouching?”
    I have a better question: Why are you ragging on your daughter in a tiny elevator with four other people in it?
    The girl rolls her eyes at me. I hear you, sister. Why are mothers so incredibly annoying?
    “Do you like Theodora Twist?” I ask her.
    She barely glances at me and nods.
    I reach into my bag for a couple of the free movie passes the producer gave me to the special sneak preview tomorrow night. I hand her two.
    “Wow—thanks!” she says. And immediately straightens up.
    The elevator opens onto my floor and I race to my room. Bo is lying on my bed, his hands behind his head, watching MTV. Brandon is in the comfy chair. . . reading a book? No, it can’t be. I look closer. Yup, it’s a book. The unauthorized biography of the Bellini Brothers.
    “Hi, I’m a crazed groupie and I’ll do anything you want,” I say, grinning at them.
    “Sorry, but there’s only one girl for us,” Bo drawls in his Texas accent.
    Some people have trouble telling them apart, but not me. Bo’s eyes are slightly bigger than Brandon’s; his entire face is somehow less intense. Both Bellinis are so good-looking that you just have to stare at them for a little while. I once told them that and they both said it was the same thing with me.
    I start a slow striptease, taking off the nerd glasses and blazer. “I have an hour before the party.”
    Bo shoots me a dazzling smile. “Let’s drive to the beach. It’s a skinny-dipping night.”
    It is. Hot and humid. In moments, we’re all wearing disguises—glasses, wigs, baggy shirts and pants. You’d never know what’s underneath. We slip downstairs, unrecognized, and take Bo’s Lexus to the beach, which is just the way we like it: dark and deserted. We walk until we’re around a bend. I glance up and down the beach, up in the trees, behind the dunes. Good. No people. No paparazzi. No problems.
    Bo and Brandon strip, leaving their stuff in a heap on the sand. They have the most amazing six-pack abs. Bo unties my bikini top, then twirls it around on his finger and runs into the water.
    “Come get it,” he says, laughing.
    I go running toward him, the cool water so refreshing against my skin. The