First Kiss (2 page)

Ten years. An entire decade. Practically a lifetime ago. That's how long it had been since Kiki represented her home state of Texas in the Miss America Pageant. Thinking back on that crushing moment, when she realized that Miss California had won the title, when the cruel truth of being forever banished to the forgotten Siberia of first runner-up crystallized in her brain well, even now it still conjured up that familiar feeling called gut-twisting nausea.

And how many times had she played the events over and over in her mind? The evening gown competition. The swimsuit contest. The talent showcase. The all-important onstage interview. God, it was like her own version of the Zapruder film.

The swimsuit memory triggered Kiki's most intense regrets. How in the world had Miss California scored higher? The woman had ugly knees. And when the surfer girl did her turn-step-turn-spin in front of the judges, she tottered slightly and almost lost her balance. Robbery! That bitch had beaten her in the talent showcase, too. What did those judges know about opera? The idiots probably gave her high marks by default just for singing in Italian. Meanwhile, Kiki's dramatic monologue from the movie St. Elmo's Fire had earned a lukewarm reception at best. So over their heads. What did Charo know about acting anyway? Please. A few skits on Bob Hope specials hardly made a dinosaur like that the second coming of Meryl Streep.

Kiki pushed the replay of her personal Waterloo out of her mind and logged on to www.misstexas95.com to check her message board. It was amazing that she still had fans from that era. But the truth was, more girls seemed to seek her out from her pageant days than from her soap exposure. No wonder. The moment she felt settled into a role on a daytime drama, the writers dreamed up a plot twist to kill her off. On One Life to Live , she'd been the victim of a mob hit; on Guiding Light , she'd been poisoned by a psychopathic husband. God, what she wouldn't give to slip into a coma on one of those shows. That could mean months of dramatic screen time without having to worry about memorizing lines. Heaven.

As expected, Kiki found a new posting from Ariel C. A high school senior now, Ariel had represented Texas in last year's America's Junior Miss competition and routinely sought Kiki's counsel on everything from makeup tips to dealing with parents. But today's missive was her most serious to date.

From Ariel C: Kiki, my boyfriend (we've been together for six months) is really pressuring me to have sex. I'm one of the few virgins still left in my class, and he says there are plenty of girls who want to hook up with him. He also wants me to quit the Abstinence Club because his friends make fun of him about it. Part of me wants to hold on to my convictions, but another part of me doesn't want to risk losing this guy. I really love him. What would you do?

Kiki was determined to craft a response that would steer Ariel in the right direction, and for a moment, she was so engrossed in the assemblage of her own thoughts that Alfie's barking receded into white noise.

From Kiki D: Ariel, take it from a girl who rememberssex with high school boys is no trip to the moon. They care less about bringing you to orgasm than your future husband will a few years after marriage. This guy sounds like a creep who's more concerned about what his retarded buddies think than he is about your feelings. I say stick to your principles. He's not worth the compromise. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not a staunch moralist who advocates saving yourself for marriage. I mean, that could be disastrous. What if future hubby is an absolute bore in the bedroom? Better to learn such things before involving innocent bridesmaids. I've been one of those more times than I want to count, and whenever I hear about a divorce (so many occur within just a few years, and it's usually about sex or money), I feel like demanding a refund on the tacky dress and any gifts that I bought. Anyway, I digress. Back to the main pointlosing your virginity. Are you traveling abroad this summer? If not, you should plan a trip. There's nothing like a hot foreign affair to awaken a girl's sexuality. I vote to save yourself for an Italian named Antonio or a Frenchman named Jean-Paul. It could be so delicious!

Kiki signed off, her spirits soaring. A few minutes upon rising and already she'd set a young woman on the proper path. What a glorious feeling of pro-

Kylie Adams ductivity. Suddenly, it dawned on her that she should write a book. Some sort of quasi-autobiographical/self-help/practical solutions tome.

First Runner-Up But Still a Winner.

The inspirational title hit her like an internal thunderbolt, causing the fine, tiny hairs on her arms to tingle. What a brainstorm. She scribbled the thought on a Post-it, then wrote call asshole agent, and underscored the reminder three times, each successive line scratched with increasing hostility.

Keith Bush. The bastard never returned her calls and so far had done nothing to turn around the slump in her acting career. But he did have the William Morris Agency clout behind him.

One more chance , Kiki thought. Better to give him the opportunity to redeem himself than shop around for new representation from a point of weakness. Word could get around that she was desperate. Which she was. But the trick in the industry was to never let anyone see you borrow money from your parents. Or was it to never let them see you sweat? Hmm. Maybe it was both. No matter, she made a second note to call her father. Rent was due soon, and American Express was stalking her. Come to think of it, they always called about this time of day. Yikes. Time to go.

Kiki rushed to get ready and get out. A quick Reclaim routine. The lines were fading or was she simply fooling herself? Truth be told, there was noth-ing like the magic of Botox. Amazing. Certainly the best medical advancement since penicillin! A brilliant observation. Must save that for the book. She gave her teeth a good brushing with Sonicare, swiped on some mascara and lip gloss, dressed quickly in a tight Junk Food-label Cookie Monster baby tee and matching hot pants, tossed on a Juicy Couture charm bracelet for a bit of trendy flash, and dashed out the door just as the phone started to jangle. Thank God those pesky bill collectors didn't have her mobile number. The torment would be endless.

She stepped out into the middle of the street and raised her right arm to hail down a cab. It would gobble up her last bit of cash. Whatever. How could she walk in this suffocating heat? Nobody wanted to show up at an important luncheon shiny with perspiration. Okay, in all honesty, it was just a quick bite with the girlsSuzi-Suzi and Danni. But still. They deserved the same consideration Kiki might reserve for, say, the League of Women Voters. Hmm. This reminded her. Better register to vote before the next presidential election. Anyway, trying to tough it on foot was out of the question. And so was the subway. Way too early to deal with a pervert rubbing up against her or a mother with a stinky baby. Yuck.

A taxi jerked to a stop. Finally! A survey had been done revealing that unattractive people have to wait even longer. How awful. Kiki lamented the horrible injustice as she tumbled inside. That had been a good five minutes in the blistering heat. She could empathize with what it must feel like to just stand there like a statue in the park. Where were the social crusaders when you needed them? They should make this cab situation a priority. Hmm. More fodder for the book. Maybe a whole chapter. A mini-polemic on aesthetic worthiness in America. That could get her on Meet the Press . It was all about expanding your audience. Face it, the whole beauty queen/soap star bit all but guaranteed her a slot on Regis and Kelly . She had that demographic in the bag. But the Tim Russert crowdthey had no idea who she was or that she had great ideas for, say, all the hullabaloo about the obesity crisis in America. Example: Manufacture refrigerators with photos of Brad Pitt and Salma Hayek built in to the doors. That will curb late night snacks and make people want to exercise!

Suddenly, Kiki took one look at the cabdriver's posted identification and realized that his name had, like, fifteen consonants. Impossible. Out of sheer frustration, she screamed out the address for Pastis and told him to drive on the sidewalk if he had to. "Otherwise, you might not get the full fare. I'm short on cash."

He took off like Dale Earnhardt Jr.

Kiki slumped back in the battered seat and fanned herself in an attempt to help the car's clunky air conditioner do its work. No mercy. The long wait on the angry, steaming concrete. The stifling cabin. Her legs were actually sticking to the leatherette. God, it felt like a tour of duty. This definitely made her an honorary Swift Boat Veteran.

At last! They pulled up to Pastis on Ninth Avenue. Kiki handed over the fare (plus a little tip!) and swung out. She was only twenty minutes late. For her, that was basically early. Definitely on time. Suzi-Suzi and Danni would be so proud, as she was working on punctuality as a personal improvement issue, and this represented significant growth.

The French bistro bustled with buoyant chatter and the requisite power lunch activity. Surreptitiously, Kiki checked her reflection in one of the antique mirrors as she click-clacked along the mosaic floor tiles to find her adorable friends at a corner table.

"Oh, my God!" Suzi-Suzi squealed, beaming as if Kiki had just put on a magic show. "You are so early!"

Danni checked her watchthe Chanel J12 number. Kiki loved that timepiece, and if any woman in the restaurant other than Danni were wearing it, then she would have to hate her on principle. But sweet Danni got a pass. "We've only been here for about twenty minutes."

Kiki plunked down with a dramatic sigh and immediately flagged a waiter for a Diet Coke with lime. "You don't know what I went through to get here." She glanced around quickly for famous faces. Celeb-rities frequented the eatery all the time. Ooh. Wasn't that the hot guy from Survivor ? Yummy. Civilization definitely agreed with him. "I have two dollars to my name," she announced without preamble. "And a credit card that the manager will probably cut up in front of my face."

Danni opened up her clutch to flash a thick wad of cash. "No worries, sweetheart. I did a new routine to Tour Some Sugar on Me' by Def Leppard last night. After I nailed my new move on the pole, it rained money."

Danni Summer worked as an exotic dancer at Camisole, the hottest gentleman's nightspot in Manhattan. The hysterical part was this: She never took off her clothes. For Danni, a nice Christian girl from Mississippi, it got no skimpier than a modest bra and panties set. She merely loved choreographing and performing dance routines to songs by her favorite bands from the eightiesDef Leppard, Poison, Bon Jovithe list went on. Where else could a girl do that but a strip club? And who else could get away it but Danni Summer? She was drop-dead beautiful. A near dead ringer for Nicole Kidman with her auburn hair, lissome body, and porcelain skin. Management at Camisole kept her on because she packed the club even without flashing the goods.

Suzi-Suzi glanced at Danni with imploring eyes.

"Everything's on me today," Danni offered. As if anyone had to hold their breath. She was one of the most generous people Kiki had ever known.

"I didn't get that feminine pain relief commercial I was called back for," Suzi-Suzi grumbled. "It's all because of that irritable bowel syndrome campaign. I just know it. People already think of me as the girl with cramps. They want a fresh face."

Suzi-Suzi had to be the wnluckiest model in the entire world. Or maybe she just got hooked up with the worst agency. PLK Management had done nothing for her. They goofed and allowed her to sign a few modeling releases with broad language. With considerable legal latitude at work protecting "editorial usage" of photographs, she had no recourse when the trouble started. Like the public service announcements for STDs. Or the photo illustrating the advice column in Cosmopolitan dealing with a wife whose creepy husband wanted to "swing" with a neighbor couple. Now Suzi-Suzi was part of an aggressive ad blitz promoting a new treatment for IBS. People stopped her on the street all the time to talk about diarrhea. She wasn't supermodel gorgeous. Her beauty was much more accessible than that, nonthreatening to women, yet still captivating to men. Most people said she had a girl-next-door quality like Jennifer Garner. Only Suzi-Suzi didn't have the action heroine body. She hated working out.

The waiter swooped by with Kiki's Diet Coke but forgot the lime.

"I'll die without the lime," she told him.

He smiled tightly in apology and off he went.

"Did you get my e-mail?" Kiki demanded.

The girls nodded.

"It was hilarious," Suzi-Suzi put in. "I want to know who this girl is that your brother's marrying all of a sudden. But I guess the more pressing question is when's the baby due?"

A chorus of girlish giggles.

"She's from New Jersey ," Kiki said, putting enough topspin on the words to equate New York's neighbor state to the hills of Appalachia.

Danni pointed to Kiki's Diet Coke, which sat there untouched and sweating, as if angry about its no-lime status. " New Jersey ? You're going to need a stronger drink than that."

"Ughthat's only the beginning," Kiki said. "Her family owns a chain of motels. Marv's Motor Inns . Can you imagine?"

"Is that the kind of place where kids with no money go on prom night?" Suzi-Suzi asked.

"They're actually not that bad," Danni put in. "I have an aunt and uncle who love road trips. I've heard them rave about the chain."

Kiki remained skeptical. "Oh, and here's another fun fact. Guess who's best friends with the bride?"

Suzi-Suzi's eyes sparkled. "Is she famous?"

"Yes," Kiki answered. "Famously awful. It's Vivien . That horrible woman who represented Walter in our divorce."

A look of alarm flashed across Danni's face. "Is she a bridesmaid?"

Kiki nodded. "Why can't my brother elope? Or just get drunk in Vegas and be done with it like Britney and Nicky Hilton managed to do."

"Um, I think both of those marriages were annulled," Suzi-Suzi pointed out.

"Whatever," Kiki grumbled. "It's just so unfair. I don't expect this Julia girl to know any better. I mean, she's from New Jersey. But Roman's my brother! And did he consider me in any of this? How self-involved can one person be?"