I’m finally here! And it only took an extra week of delays to get here, but I’m finally at the Aida Resort. I even have to pinch myself just to be sure.
Ever since I left Seattle for Miami, and then from Miami to Saint Lucia, everything seems surreal. Even getting on the boat that will take us directly to the front of the Aida feels like I’m still in a dream.
I wish I’d been able to get here without delays, but because I didn’t have a passport, there was a little wait to get one even if the production company paid extra to rush it. There was also all the legal stuff that I needed to deal with, all the dotted lines where I had to sign absolving the production company of any responsibility should anything happen to me, and that I had to abide by all the rules or be sent back home, blah blah blah. The documents were at least five inches thick, and I had to have one of mother’s friends, a lawyer, sit with me the entire time although she admitted later that reality TV contracts simply baffled her. She didn’t get the allure but she understood why young people like me would do it.
It’s a once in a lifetime thing so I understand the allure. You get your ten minutes of fame so might as well do it while you can.
In the end, contracts and all, I was actually looking forward to it. Tiffany and Mom were so excited with all the preparations, although their excitement only lasted for so long. The moment we got to the airport, they both broke down in tears, hating to see me go off on this adventure alone.
Even my third-grade students were all so thrilled to see me off, reminding me to use sunscreen and saying that the billionaire was sure to fall in love me. While I know I’m going to have fun, I doubt the second part very much, not when the remaining four women are all better matches to Tyler Drake than I can ever be.
For one, he’s quite outdoorsy. But then, who better to create a clothing line and accessories for the outdoors than someone who loved spending time there? Tiffany told me he’d trekked to a few of the world’s highest mountains, like Kilimanjaro in Tanzania and Mount Khuiten in Mongolia. He almost died while climbing Annapurna in Nepal when an avalanche hit their climbing party, killing 13 other people on the mountain. He would have climbed Mount Everest this year, but his family—his mother specifically—had finally said no. That little fact—him acquiescing to his mother’s request—made him more human to me because until then, he just seemed too good to be true.
One of the production assistants traveling with me, Steffi, told me that Tyler’s last long-term relationship ended just before he climbed Annapurna. His girlfriend had threatened to leave him if he went, but Tyler went anyway. True to her word, she dumped him and Steffi told me that he’d been single ever since.
But that didn’t mean he was celibate—not by a long shot. Steffi told me that he and one of the contestants, Camille, were pretty close and that she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d choose her for the final ceremony. She made sure to add that Tyler even had sex with Camille in the pool one night, though none of them will admit to it, Tyler denying that anything happened and Camille acting coy about the whole thing. I remember feeling a pang of jealousy hit me, like a stab to the heart, but I tell myself to get a grip. I’m only here for that vacation Tiffany promised me.
I know my wheelchair—or rather, the fact, that I am in one—is a huge deal to the whole production. No one had expected a disabled person to enter the Wild Card contest, much less, win it. It meant that the production had to make sure that everything I touched was compliant with the American with Disabilities Act or ADA, even if technically, we’d be outside the US for most of the show and so technically, it wouldn’t matter.
I bet she’ll be sent home as soon as he sees her, I overhear one of the production assistants say on the boat before someone shushes her. I could have said something, but I don’t see the point. I’m just happy to be out of Seattle for a while.
Ever since I woke up on a hospital bed three years ago unable to feel my legs, I haven’t traveled much, not even if I wanted to. Life since then has definitely been different, to say the least, especially with Mom and her chemotherapy treatments that leave her too weak to do anything else. But even if it felt like a double-whammy, Mom with her cancer diagnosis and me with my paraplegia, things could have been worse. It just means that I have to change the way I do things.
I used to swim, hike, rock climb and ride a bike. And while I can’t do most of those things anymore without my wheelchair, or Tiffany coming up with ways to make going places easier for me—like the addition of the removable big wheel to my chair—I’ve gotten used to it. At least, one thing hasn’t changed too much; I still swim every week like I used to. It amazes people to see me at the city pool, my wheelchair parked right next to my lane as I transfer myself to edge of the pool, adjust my swim cap and then slide into the water. It’s certainly helped increase swimming lesson attendance during the summers when children see that I don’t let my useless legs deter me from swimming laps. I can’t wait to test the waters of St. Lucia the moment I get settled into my suite.
After the boat docks and I wheel myself down the ramp, to say I’m not nervous would be a flat-out lie. I am. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, as well as cameras that have been filming me two days after my name was picked on national television. I’ve had a crew of four people tagging along with me the entire time since, but I don’t even notice them anymore.
Archer Mann, the resort manager, meets me the moment my chair rolls onto the dock. When he offers to push my chair, I tell him no, thanks. And then he asks me about the big wheel attachment in front of my legs which I can easily remove if I’m on even surfaces, and I tell him that it helps me maneuver my chair through uneven terrain.
Around us, the camera people are busy resetting their shots, ordering us to stop where we are till Les and Tyler get on the dock so they can film the first meeting.
Archer makes a face. “It may be called reality TV, but it’s still showbiz. Ask me how I know.”
I giggle. “I’m afraid to.”
“Alright,” someone behind us yells. “Rolling.”
When I see two men approach me, flanked by the camera crew, I know right away that the tall one is Tyler. In the flesh, he is gorgeous, with his broad smile and a definite twinkle in his eye as he introduces himself, leaning toward me to give me a deep hug. I can see why women would fight over him. I’d fight for him, too, if I knew I had a chance.
“This is such a cool chair. I love the addition of the big wheel,” Tyler says as we walk toward the entrance of the resort. He looks at me as he speaks the entire time, one hand tucked casually in his jeans pocket.
“Thanks. My sister designed it. She’s only sixteen, but I’m sure one day she’ll be an inventor.”
He looks at me in surprise. “Is this her prototype? I hope she patented this.”
“Never even occurred to her—or me. Should we have?” I ask before a blond man with a hook nose appears in front of me and introduces himself as Les Wiltern, the show host.
“Hello, Daniela. You and I have spoken over the phone a few times,” he says, shaking my hand. “It’s very nice to finally meet you.”
“Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”
“If only we didn’t have any delays, we’d have been able to include a lot of fun stuff for you to do while you’re here,” he says, exhaling. “But as it is, we’re running behind schedule and we may not be able to stick to the plans from last week.”
“You mean the tour of the island?” Tyler asks. “I can take care of that.”
Les frowns. “You’ve got a full schedule already, Tyler. The next three days alone are to be spent—“
“We’ll move things around,” Tyler says, grinning at me. “Daniela deserves a tour of the island, at least.”
“Thanks.”
“We’ll have to play it by ear,” Les says, looking around us till he spots someone and waves for her to come forward. “You! Over here! She’s got a lot of shine.”
A woman with short cropped hair and wearing a tank top and shorts suddenly appears in front of me and begins applying powder on my skin. Another woman sprays something in my hair, so it stays in place from the wind that’s whipping it in front of my face. Not that it’s my fault when they insisted that I’d look better with my hair down than in my usual ponytail.
“We need her to meet everyone else before we lose the light, Les,” a camera operator says to my left.
“Crap,” Les mutters before turning to me and beckoning for me to follow him.
“Don’t you want to film us first?” Tyler asks. “I barely got to talk to her.”
“We need whatever light’s left to film her meeting the other girls first,” Les says, his tone clipped. “Don’t worry, Tyler. You’ll have your chance later.”
Then without another word, Les pushes my chair toward one of the gazebos where four women with wide smiles plastered on their faces are waiting to meet me. All the cameras are there filming my arrival.
Oh, goody. Here we go.