Yes, the rumors are true . . .
. . . I’m actually coming home to Colorado for the summer. Maybe it won’t be so bad. After all, I’ve got cocktails, shopping, and gab sessions with my girlfriends to look forward to. Plus time with my dysfunctional family. Yippee. I’m Helaina, by the way. Helaina Denner if you’ve known me since junior high, like Hannah and Marti. Helaina Merrill if you know me from film school at NYU. See, I lead a bit of a double life: “starving” student when in Manhattan, daughter of privilege when in Denver . . .
And it gets even better . . .
. . . depending on your definition of “better.” First off, I’ve picked this time to try and reconnect with my father. Which would be easier if we’d ever had anything resembling a relationship to begin with. I guess this is one of the pitfalls of having a parent as rich Bill Gates and as accessible as the pope . . .
Seriously, some of this stuff you cannot repeat . . .
. . . like what I’ll tell you about Owen, the adorable journalist I just met. He’s sweet, sincere, sexy . . . real soul mate material. But something’s keeping me from letting him get too close. What’s my problem, anyway? No need to answer: that’s what friends are for. Now, amid high-altitude parties in Aspen, bikini waxes gone mad, and caught-on-tape blackmail fodder, I’m about to find out exactly what one heiress’s problems amount to in this crazy world. Just remember, whatever I discover is off the record - for the moment, at least . . .