First Kiss (25 page)

Kiki took one last glance and tottered out on Christian Louboutin platform sandals that were circus-act high. This was walking in the nosebleed section. But she found her balance, perfected the catwalk-worthy gait, and charged forward, never once losing the laser power of her focus. God, she looked good enough to slay dragons for. Sometimes it was okay for a girl to

?

admit that about herself. This time was one of them. Put her next to Catherine Z right now and Mrs. Michael Douglaseven red carpet ready and diamond dazzlingwould seem like a mess on the side of the road.

Running on the rich fuel of success as the best revenge, Kiki vamped toward the elevator, her Juicy Couture charm bracelet jingle-jangling all the way. Yes, that bracelet. The junk jewelry that had been the tipping point for her tabloid Waterloo was back on the wrist. It'd been the catalytic accessory for meeting Fab. Why not give it special billing as and starring in the role of karma reversal for the big goodbye scene that said she was leaving him?

Kiki had arrived at Affair quietly, sputtering like a broken-down car on its final cough to the Last Chance Auto Shop. But today she would exit loudly, revving like a twin-turbo Porsche. God, what a difference a few days could make.

The elevator went down. And so, as the saying goes, did Kiki's stomach. She stepped out into the lobby, took a deep breath, and made a beeline for Fab's office, the immaculate one where he worked his little hotel, worked his insecure plans for nightlife insurgence, and worked a speech yesterday that almost, just almost, made Kiki believe he might be capable of a relationship that didn't involve last names and job titles being exchanged as part of postcoital cuddling.

Kylie Adams

Kiki stood at the precipice of the doorway, the weight on her toes, a wonderful terrible feeling strong in her heart. She was mere nanoseconds from announcing herself, when, quite suddenly, she halted.

The hyper-real vision swamped her mind with such impact that it came close to shutting down her central nervous system.

Fab Tomba.

Tom Brock.

Kirsten Brock.

Together in his office. At this hotel. Kiki's skin heated up as her blood cooled down. It was fire and ice. With an inaudible gasp, she flattened herself against the door. And she prayed that she hadn't been seen.

The Juicy bracelet jangled.

Now she prayed that she hadn't been heard. God! This stupid jewelry! Always getting her into trouble. And yet she still wore it. This reminded her of that old Brady Bunch episode, the one where the boys competed against the girls in a house of cards challenge for the chance to pick out goodies at the trading stamps store.

Okay, there stands Marcia, about to louse it up for herself, Jan, and Cindy, all because her charm bracelet keeps dangling perilously close to knocking the whole thing down. Well, the question now , as the question should've been then , was Why, Marcia, didn't you just take off the fucking bracelet?

Hmm. Kiki found the absurd linkage fascinating. Whoever would've thought that, at this particular moment of insanity, or any moment for that matter, she would find herself mulling a Marcia Brady incident. Basically, a true testament to the Brady's staying power in the cultural landscape.

One thousand one one thousand two.

Kiki stopped counting. Obviously, Fab, Tom, and Kirsten hadn't seen her. Or heard her. Because they went on talking. And she went on listening.

"The May-December suite is our favorite," Kirsten was saying. "Tom and I stayed there the night I told him I was pregnant with Music."

"Third happiest day of my life," Tom said.

Kiki heard the smooch of a kiss.

"And what's number one and number two?" Kirsten prompted sweetly.

"My wedding day and the day Music was born," Tom answered dutifully.

"Isn't he adorable?" Kirsten asked. Now, most women who acted this way in public could make women who weren't in the throes of a happy relationship vomit things they might've eaten ten years ago. But somehow Kirsten Brock pulled it off, as she remarkably did with everything. In fact, it astonished Kiki that she didn't have the overwhelming urge to push Kirsten into a boiling vat of battery acid.

"There's nothing I would want more than to be able to accommodate you," Fab said smoothly. "I feel honored that Affair has been a setting for some of your most precious memories."

"But" Tom said, cutting to the chase with just a hint of edge.

"The suite is currently occupied," Fab said. One beat. "And I must be honest, although this is terribly awkward. Perversely amusing but still awkward."

"What?" Kirsten asked.

"I understand that it's been a rough couple of days for you in the tabloids, and I appreciate the fact that you thought of Affair as a place to go to get away from the pressure. But, as it happens, Kiki Douglas has sought refuge here as well."

"Are you serious?" Kirsten bellowed.

"This is one of those moments when Manhattan feels like a small town." Tom chuckled. "I've got to say, Fab, I didn't see that one coming."

"Yeah, well, that's only part of the irony," Fab said. He paused a beat. "She's staying in the May-December suite."

Kirsten was the first to laugh. A real laugh. From the belly.

It proved contagious, because Tom chimed in next.

Fab laughed, too, but not with quite the same abandon. "I'm sorry. But I'm glad you have a sense of humor about this. Especially since you came here for the express reason of getting away from it."

"It's not your fault," Kirsten said. "It's not Kiki's fault, either. It's those awful tabloids. I can't stand them. And they've really raked that poor girl over the coals. How is she holding up?"

Fab cleared his throat. "Fine, I believe. Just fine. She's got a lot of spunk."

Spunk . Please. If Kiki had a thesaurus within arm's reach, she would've lobbed it straight for Fab's head. Yellow lab puppies with a full meal in their fat little bellies had spunk. Precocious child actors with psycho stage mothers who annoyingly referred to themselves as "momagers" had spunk. Kiki Douglas did not have spunk. Thank you very much. She had diva attitude . So there.

"And you're absolutely right, Kirsten," Fab went on. "The tabs have really done a number on her. Kiki's got no designs on Tom, and she never said anything untoward about your child. If anything, she's a huge fan. Of both of you. This has been very stressful and upsetting for her."

"Oh, I'm sure of it!" Kirsten spat angrily. "This whole thing has been a ridiculous farce. They will come up with any rubbish to make it sound like our marriage is in trouble. It's completely insane. I would sue, but that just takes too much energy. And who wants to relive it for years with a bunch of expensive lawyers? I truly hate what the press has done to that sweet and beautiful girl. I'm just glad to hear that she's safe and sound. I've been calling her apartment for days, trying to reach out, but it just rings into the machine. We talked for a spell at Stella McCartney. I thought she was adorable."

Kiki was overwhelmed. No, "thunderstruck" was a better word to describe it. Sweet and beautiful. Adorable . This was huge. Okay, take a Sally Field moment. Kirsten Brock liked her. She really, really liked her . That just had to be done.

Suzi-Suzi and Danni were going to die. No, they were going to double die. Die first. Have a future life in some sort of weird Shirley MacLaine way . And then die again. Oh, God, it was just like being accepted by the most beautiful and popular girl in high school. Hmm. Kiki had been that girl in high school. Well, it was like what other girls must've felt like when Kiki accepted them back in high school. At any rate, it was a marvelous feeling.

"I'm happy to hear you say that," Fab said.

"Well, obviously, you find her adorable, too," Kirsten said shrewdly.

Fab was silent.

"There's a slight change in your eyes and face whenever you talk about her," Kirsten went on silk-ily. "I don't know what that is exactly, but I know it's something good. I saw the same thing on Tom's face shortly after we met."

"Permission to speak candidly?" Fab asked.

Tom and Kirsten clearly nodded yes, because Fab started talking.

"If I'm being completely honest, I have to say that I'm glad this scandal happened. I'm glad Kiki got raked over the coals. I'm glad your family got pulled through the mud. Because without all of that taking place, she might've never walked through the doors of Affair. And I might've never met the first woman I've ever really fallen for. I'm crazy about that girl. And Tom, those love songs that you sing all the time they're finally beginning to make sense to me."

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: CALL ME!

Keith,

I'm sending you a tape from the Miss America Pageant 1995, featuring me doing a dramatic monologue from St. Elmo's Fire. Please show it to the network BEFORE you sign off on negotiations for my return to All My Children . ABC might want to build a prime-time special into the contract. If need be, I have enough dramatic monologues for a three-hour block! My favorite: The funeral scene from Steel Magnolias . Be a tough little bastard. If they don't show interest, tell them that this idea has to be better than those Nick & Jessica specials.

Air Kisses, Kiki

Kiki tried to adjust to what she was hearing

Fab's voice.

Fab's words.

To listen to him say these things seemed surreal. She'd given her all to get him to open up. Yet nothing. And now he was venting to Tom and Kirsten with on-the-sleeve emotions that only pros like Oprah were known for drawing out. Talk about the last to know.

"I think this could be serious," Kirsten said teas-ingly. "From what I've heard, a long date for you constitutes the cab ride from a nightclub back to your apartment. Clearly this is more than that."

"Yes," Fab said. "Clearly."

"You know what? We should go out together," Kirsten suggested. "All four of us."

"Yeah," Tom agreed. "A double date. That'd be fun." He laughed a little. "We're on the outs with another couple, so I guess you could say that we're in the interviewing stage for potential social hires."

"And I have to apply ?" Fab asked in mock outrage. "I thought I'd just get an offer."

"This is a couples position," Tom said.

"Yes," Kirsten put in silkily. "And given your track record, you're a bit of an insurance risk."

Unable to contain her excitement, Kiki was practically jumping up and down. Okay, she was all the way jumping up and down. A double date with Tom and Kirsten Brock? Oh, God! That would be the ultimate social masterstroke in Manhattan.

Where would they go? Maybe Mas. It was a darling little restaurant in the West Village with a French countryside vibe. There was antique barn wood on the walls and a limestone bar. So charming. And the food was amazing.

What would she wear? Hmm. Something flirty and feminine. But classy. A look that would conjure up old Hollywood glamour. A memory downloaded. Her last visit to the flagship Prada store in SoHo. That chiffon dress that she cried over because she couldn't afford it. But now, with Keith negotiating a major offer from ABC, and her book as good as sold, she could definitely splurge. Okay, so she hadn't written page one of the proposal. But she could bang that out in no time. One sample chapter, a brief chapter by chapter outline, a marketing analysis. Please.