First Kiss (26 page)

All that could be done before breakfast. Decision made. Definitely the six-thousand-dollar Prada dress.

The paroxysms of delight were still pulsing through her as she continued to jump for joy on the impossibly high Christian Louboutin heels. Yikes ! All of a sudden, she noticed the jangling noise her bracelet was making. Kiki stopped in her tracks. But not before the heart charm fell offagain! It went bouncing, rolling, sliding and then stopped just inside the doorway of Fab's office.

Kiki crouched down on all fours. Holding her breath, she moved, inch by inch, hoping to just snatch it in a flash without being noticed. God, her shorts were really riding up high in this position. She glanced behind quickly, just to make sure someone wouldn't walk by and mistake her for Christina Aguilera. Then she turned back around, only to find a spotless pair of Gucci loafers in front of her face. Slowly, her gaze traveled all the way up.

Tom Brock was holding the heart charm. "Is it just me, or is this circumstance eerily familiar?" He offered a hand to help her up.

Kiki attempted to laugh it off. "Again, I do have better jewelry. You seem to always catch me when I'm feeling a costume vibe. It's the strangest thing."

Kirsten moved quickly toward Kiki to take possession of both of her hands. "I've tried to call you a

million times. I'm so glad that you're okay. This whole mess has been awful."

"I know. For you, too, I'm sure." Kiki managed to get this out calmly, though deep down, she was hysterically praying that Kirsten had left messages on the machine so that they could be played back for Suzi-Suzi and Danni.

She peered over at Fab. Yes, he was the same. Deliciously gorgeous in a way that almost took her breath away each time she saw him. But there was something else, too, an effect mirrored in his eyes, an effect that she had on him.

"I have an idea!" Kirsten blurted. The confidence in her tone argued instantly that it was a damn good one. "We should call a press conference. The three of us." She looked at Tom and Kiki as she said this. "We'll dismiss all of these lies for the garbage that they are. Together. As a unified front."

Okay, no matter what Kirsten had suggested, Kiki would've eagerly gone along with it. Let's give all of our couture fashions away and dress in Old Navy for a year . If you say so! Let's lock ourselves in a bunker and listen to Debbie Gibson CDs over and over again . Right there with you! Really, it could've been anything. But the upside was, this was a truly fantastic idea.

Fab nodded to the beat of Kirsten's enthusiasm. "The image of the three of you standing in solidarity? That's a very powerful diffuser. I like it."

"We should do it as soon as possible," Kirsten said eagerly. "I want an end to this nonsense once and for all." She looked at Fab. "What about your lobby?"

"It's yours," he said.

Tom merely shrugged, as if down for whatever.

Kirsten moved fast, commandeering Fab's desk phone first and asking permission to do so later. "Sarah Ann, it's Kirsten Brock I'm fine Listen, I'm at Affair with Tom, and Kiki Douglas is here, too. I want a press conference within the hour. Here in the lobby. We're going to take questions together and put a stop to all of this absurdity right now No, it's not a mistake Sarah Ann, this is not open for debate. Just get the media here, okay? I'll prepare my own statement This is me calling to ask for your help. If you're not willing to do it, then this is me calling to fire you." Kirsten checked her watch. "You've got five seconds to decide Good." And then she hung up and let out a frustrated groan, rolling her eyes. "She is such a bitch. After this is over, I am going to fire her."

Kiki smiled. If only she could be dancing in the room when Sarah Ann Duckworth got that news.

Kirsten turned to Tom. "We should go change. Kiki looks amazing, and I'm standing here in a Juicy warm-up with a baby formula stain on it." Now she addressed Fab. "So the May-December suite is out. What's the next best thing?"

"Wait," Kiki interjected. "I couldn't help but overhear when you mentioned your fondness for that suite. I insist that you take it. I need to return to my apartment anyway."

Kirsten shook her head no. "Absolutely not. We can take another suite. In fact, I insist. Besides, you're already settled in, and after the press conference, we're all going out together. You can go back to your apartment tomorrow."

Kiki was quick to accept the new plan. It was, after all, Kirsten Brock's plan. Who was she to argue?

Fab concentrated on his iMac. "The Nine and a Half Weeks suite is available." He looked up. "It's like an adult playpen with lots of toys and mild fetish accessories." His expression turned doubtful. "Too hot for new parents?"

"Nothing's too hot for us," Tom joked. "Compared to us, Mickey and Kim were like clumsy band geeks on a first date in that movie."

"Tom!" Kirsten scolded, blushing an instant pink

Everybody laughed.

Tom and Kirsten ambled out to check into their S and M suite, leaving Kiki alone with Fab. She could feel the heat of his gaze burning up her body before turning to him.

"If you heard the bit about the Brocks, then I'm guessing you heard what I had to say, too." His eyes were still doing that intense survey thing.

Kiki had Fab hooked up like a light switch, and the sassy Vuitton number was flicking him up and down, playfully, cruelly, just because he was there, as if a bored child were operating the panel. She thought about responding coolly, to make him work harder, but in the end, she just gave in to her impulse. And that was to lose herself in his embrace. "Oh, Fab," she whispered, grinning against his chest.

His arms tightened around her. "I was miserable last night. I never went to sleep. No woman has ever made me lose sleep before." One beat. "That's not exactly true. But I've always been there. Rewrite. No woman has ever made me lose sleep when I haven't been with her. Except you."

Kiki leaned back and looked at him. "Now is not the time to bring up all of your ex-lovers. Relationship rule number one: Pretend you never had any."

Fab laughed and spun her around. And then he stopped, planting her firmly down before cupping her face in his hands and moving his lips millimeters from hers. "Haven't you heard? I'm a virgin."

Kiki felt his tongue brushing against her own, and she opened her mouth wide. They were kissing now. It wasn't the first. It wouldn't be the last.

Slowly, his lips retreated from hers. "Still bored with me?"

Kiki smiled the smile of a woman in love. "You know, I must admit you're getting a bit more interesting."

* * *

The Manhattan press corps turned out in full force. Kirsten Brock, the media darling of the moment, had summoned them. No matter what she had to say, they considered the trip worth it just to get a new picture, some fresh B-roll footage, a quote about anythingthe weather, what she ate for breakfast, her impressions of the new fall fashion lines, the last time Music pooped.

The photoreporters were flying by the seat of their Nikons. The broadcast news babes were tapping impatient pumps while their cameramen balanced heavy video equipment on tired shoulders. And the shock jocks were waiting, phallic microphones in hand, proving the old saying, "He has a face for radio," more relevant than ever.

Kiki could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Nervous sweat slicked her breasts. Out there were the vultures she'd been running from. And now she was standing in open field, inviting them to take another dive at her. She glanced at the woman to her left, uncertainty in her eyes.

Kirsten clasped Kiki's hand in a public gesture of friendship, female solidarity, and sisterly support, a move that triggered a blinding lightning storm of flashbulbs in overdrive.

Kiki prayed that the image would find its way to the front page, that no mistake would ruin the picture. Finally, a headline to be proud of.

Kirsten somberly stepped to the podium.

The Affair lobby was pin-drop quiet.

And then she began to speak in a voice serious, stoic, and more than a little angry. "Members of the press, thank you for accepting this invitation. The last few days have been very difficult for the Brock family and for Kiki Douglas. The gross speculations, offensive innuendos, and outright lies that have been brandished in newspapers, on television screens, on the Internet, and over the radio is a disgusting example of the Fourth Estate operating on its most vile and irresponsible impulses. There is nothing to explain or defend here today because nothing happened. My family has been put through undue stress and humiliation. For no reason. Kiki Douglas has endured the same. Again, for no reason. Other than the sick hunger certain media channels have for creating scandal when scandal is nowhere to be found." She cast scolding eyes over the crowd. "You know who you are."

Kiki observed a collective shame swamp down on almost every media representative in attendance.

Kirsten reached for Kiki's hand again, pulling her up to the podium, and raising their arms in a show of us-against-the-world unity. "This woman is not a home wrecker, ladies and gentlemen. She's my friend."

A belligerent tabloid scribbler elbowed his way to the front. "Kiki!" he screamed out. "If Tom Brock's not the man in your life, then who is it?"

Kiki aimed a secret look at Fab. "I appreciate your interest, but that's really none of your business. I will say this, though. He's fabulous ."

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected] [email protected]

Subject: A Fashion Tragedy of Epic Proportions Avoided

Sydney and Vivien!

Okay, girls, even if you don't smoke, get ready to light up a cigarette. Why? Because you just might have an orgasm while reading this e-mail. By now I'm sure you've heard about the little scandal involving me and Tom Brock. Ridiculous! Tabloids can lie better than married men at a convention/conference in Vegas. Anyway, that is so over. In fact, Kirsten Brock and I laugh about it all the time. We're very good friends now. So here's how it happened. I'm talking to Kirsten about my brother's wedding and telling her how worried I am about the bridesmaid dresses. I mean, it's going to be impossible to find a dress that we all look fabulous in. Think about it. Sydney, you're an accountant. Don't take this the wrong way, but most dresses probably wear YOU. That's just how it is with girls who wear too many conservative suits. And Vivien, you know better than anyone that your height presents a few fashion challenges. I'm sure prom night was murder for you. Did your date have lifts built in to his rented shoes? I hope so. Anyway, Kirsten Brock (she's my friend nowdid I mention that?) thinks this problem through. It takes her, like, a minute. And she's got a solution. Amazing. Meanwhile social security is still a mess after all these years. Send this girl to Washington!

Where was I? Oh, the best part! Kirsten's suggestion? VERA WANG! Yes! THE Vera Wang! Vera designed Kirsten's wedding dress. So she calls up Vera right there on the spot and says please, please, please design bridesmaid dresses for my friend and two other girls. And Vera said YES! Oh, my God! Can you believe it? Are you totally having a Meg Ryan diner scene moment from When Harry Met Sally right now?

Air Kisses, Kiki