by Kylie Adams
To escape the seemingly endless and blistering phone jangles, Kiki raced into the bathroom and shut the door, crouching down, cellular in hand. No way could she do this alone. This was a job for the lace mafia. Suzi-Suzi, Danni, and the new gangster princess among them Tiffany Lynn.
Kiki jabbed in the first speed dial code.
"I can't talk," Suzi-Suzi whispered after the second ring. "We're at the sex therapist's office, and she's got Chad under hypnosis."
"This is an emergency!" Kiki yelled.
" So is this ," Suzi-Suzi hissed, still talking in a hushed whisper. "I just found out that in high school Chad got caught masturbating in the library with a National Geographic . That's why he cries. The semen emission triggers the pain of a repressed memory. That's also why he doesn't like a hand on his
Kylie Adams pecker. It's all related to the shame of the library incident."
Kiki gripped the mobile so tight she thought the casing might break. Her well-meaning friend always came through in the end, but sometimes it took a goddamn sledgehammer. "Suzi-Suzi, listen to me. The tabloid vultures are swooping down. They know where I am! I need your help."
"Oh, my God!" Suzi-Suzi cried softly. "Okay, hold on."
Kiki could hear her talking, obviously to the sex therapist.
"Excuse me, I have to go right now. My best friend's in a terrible bind. Keep working with him, though. And since you already have him under, suggest that he not slobber so much when he kisses. Oh, one more thing. When Chad goes down on me, all he does is lick like a baby kitten. A girl needs more stimulation than that. You know, some finger action would be nice. Maybe a more assertive use of the tongue, too." One beat. "I'm on my way." Click.
Kiki jabbed in the second speed dial code.
A groggy Danni answered, slurring her hello.
"You sound awful!" Kiki cried.
"No, I feel great. George Clooney gave me Vicodin. He's so wonderful. I think I love him. I've completely forgotten about the hedge fund guy. I can't even remember his name now."
"Thad Davis," Kiki filled in.
"Oh, yeah Thad," Danni murmured, totally blotto.
"What is this doctor's real name?"
"I have no idea." Danni giggled. "I just call him George. He doesn't seem to mind."
Kiki spoke in a loud, modulated tone. "Danni, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I need you to pull yourself together and come to Affair as soon as possible. I'm in trouble, and I need your help."
"What's wrong?" Danni asked, still loopy but showing audible signs of sobriety.
"I'll explain when you get here."
Kiki signed off and raced into the main suite to grab the note Tiffany Lynn had left, wincing at the incessant jangle of the suite phone as she darted back inside the bathroom and slammed the door. Her finger worked fast on the keypad.
"Hello?" Tiffany Lynn on the first ring. Not whispering and not drugged. Good news all around.
"Tiffany Lynn, thank God you answered!"
"Kiki? How funny. I was just thinking about you. I hope you didn't have too bad of a hangover."
"OhmyGodthere'sbeennotimeforoneofthosebutifl-didhaveonelhighlyrecommendgreatsexinashowerasa-cure-all," Kiki said, suddenly speaking in impatiently fused word strings. She sucked in a deep breath to slow down. "I need your help."
"Anything," Tiffany Lynn said. And she meant it. The girl was gold.
But a big problem hung overhead like a mushroom cloud. Kiki had the workers but no plan for them to work. Her razor brain began to cut. After a few long seconds of superconcentration, the sting started to take shape.
"I need a car," Kiki blurted. "Do you have a car?"
"I don't. I'm sorry," Tiffany Lynn said, sounding as crushed as a little girl who just found out that the My Little Pony factory had ceased all production. "Wait a second." Brighter now. "Kirby has a car." Hot damn. My Little Pony was back in business. "He keeps it at his mother's house in New Jersey."
"Will he let you borrow it?"
"Not a chance," Tiffany Lynn said automatically. "But I'll just make him come along. That way you'll have a car and a driver."
"You're a total lifesaver," Kiki gushed.
Tiffany Lynn giggled. "No problem. Now, it's not the fanciest ride. Can you deal with a Ford Taurus?"
"That's perfect!" Kiki yelped. She needed something hopelessly bland, the kind of car that would blur into traffic to such a degree that it might as well be invisible. A Taurus fit the bill perfectly. "What color?"
"Silver."
"Oh, my God. That's brilliant. I am so in love with Kirby right now."
Tiffany Lynn giggled again. "I don't know about that. It's pretty boring if you ask me. But it's spotless inside and out. He hand waxes it and shampoos the carpet every weekend. Kirby says the Taurus is the man's man car of today. Kind of like the Pontiac Trans Am was back in the eighties."
"Perfect. Just get to the hotel as fast as you can." Kiki hung up and felt her heart go bang. Oh, God, this had to work.
Within the hour, the Mission: Impossible team was packed into the tiny Mistress Hideaway suite: Suzi-Suzi, looking very Emma Peel in a form-fitting unitard; Danni, hobbling on crutches and fighting off sleep; Tiffany Lynn, knocking them all out in a simple college-girl-shops-at-the-Gap ensemble; and Kirby, playing impromptu bartender as he fetched Diet Cokes from the minibar for the girls.
Kiki experienced a dart of excitement. She felt just like John Forsythe from Charlie's Angels , dictating an assignment to the sexy undercover detectives. Tiffany Lynn could be Jill, the gorgeous one. Suzi-Suzi could be Kelly, the model. And Danni could be Sabrina, the smart one. Hmm. That left Kirby in the role of Bosley, the dorky one. Oh, well. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind.
She paced the floor in front of them, like an anxious cat testing the limits of a cage. "It has to be timed perfectly. Like an intricately choreographed ballet."
Kirby raised a hand. "Uh, you've got two strippers
Kylie Adams in the room. All I'm saying is the ballet analogy might offend." He shrugged impossibly broad shoulders. "Just a thought."
"Okay as I was saying," Kiki went on, "it needs to be like an intricately choreographed lap dance."
Kirby gave her the thumbs-up sign.
Tiffany Lynn beamed.
Danni stared back like a postsurgery lobotomy patient.
"Hold on a second," Suzi-Suzi cut in. "Let's back up. How did these bottom-feeders find out you were here in the first place?"
Kiki halted. It was a good question. But she'd had no time to consider it. "Actually, I have no idea."
"Well, who did know you were staying here?" Tiffany Lynn asked. "That's a good place to start."
Kiki nodded in agreement to her logical suggestion. "Okay, everyone here in this room Fab"
Kirby pretended to have a tickle in his throat as he coughed out the word "asshole."
Kiki paused to shoot him a warning look, then continued reciting the list of possible suspects. "My new friend Jackie Dickinson Fab's sister Serafina uh that should be it. Everybody else thinks I'm Jennifer Aniston."
"I don't trust him," Danni said.
"Trust who?" Suzi-Suzi wondered.
"Fab," Kirby confirmed. "He sells Kiki out to the tabs, and his hotel gets the kind of publicity you can't even buy."
"Now let's not jump to conclusions," Tiffany Lynn said, trying to provide the voice of reason.
"Oh, go ahead," Kirby said hotly. "Rush to your boyfriend's defense."
"He's not my boyfriend," Tiffany Lynn fired back. "I've been over him for weeks."
"Well, you were going to have his name tattooed on your ass cheek," Kirby sneered.
"I only thought about doing that," Tiffany Lynn clarified. "I also thought about putting Johnny Depp's name on my butt. Does that make him my boyfriend, too?"
Kirby stood up. "Just admit it. You're still hung up on the guy."
Tiffany Lynn gazed up at the ceiling. "This is so retarded." Then she looked at Kirby. "How can I be hung up on Fab
if I had sex with you, like, an hour ago? What does it take to prove that I'm into you?"
"For starters, you can stop saying his name all the time," Kirby snapped.
"What are you talking about? I hardly ever mention it!" Tiffany yelled.
Kirby pointed at her. "That's a lie! I asked you how I was in bed, and you said his name."
Tiffany Lynn shook with frustration. "I said you were fabulous!"
"Exactly!" Kirby thundered. " Fabulous . What are the first three letters in the word? F-A-B. You just had to get it in, didn't you?"
"Okay, I love these two," Suzi-Suzi announced to no one in particular. "They are so entertaining."
Kiki held up her hands. "Tiffany Lynn's right. It doesn't make sense to jump to conclusions and blame Fab. And I'm not just saying that because I had sex with him this morning."
She struggled to be heard. "Can we please focus for just a minute. This is a serious accusation." She put hand over heart. "I know that Fab wouldn't do that to me. He just wouldn't. It could so easily have been a member of the hotel staff. I don't know. Maybe one of them figured out that I wasn't Jennifer Aniston."
"You think?" It was Danni, finally showing humor and signs of life.
"But it doesn't matter anymore," Kiki said. "The fact is, the media knows where I am. And that's why all of you are here. To trick them into thinking I'm somewhere else."
Kirby whistled. "I realize I'm just part of the crew here, but I see a big gaping hole in your plan, sweetheart."
Kiki took a mildly annoyed say-what-you've-got-to-say breath.
"We're going to all this trouble to send the media on a wild-goose chase after a fake Kiki, right?"
She nodded.
"If the snitch is here at the hotel, whether it's that guy or a member of that guy's staff, then you're still right back where you started from," Kirby lectured.
"But I won't be in the same spot," Kiki argued. "I'm going to insist on changing suites." She smiled haughtily, as if she'd just solved not only her problem, but any dilemma plaguing the Middle East as well.
Kirby gave her a dumb look, putting thumb and forefinger to the side of his face in a telephone pantomime. "Hey, Page Six, she's on the third floor now." Then he pretended to hang up.
The collective glances from the girls said it without saying it: The man's got a point.
Kiki blanched. Her swallow became a gulp. Then she gave Kirby a glare that said shutting up was the polite thing to do. "Let's just stick to the plan." She turned to Tiffany Lynn. "Are you sure you're okay with public nudity?"
Tiffany Lynn returned a no-big-deal shrug. "They're just boobs. Plus, it's for a great cause."
Kirby shook his head. "No, baby." He pointed to Suzi-Suzi's chest. " Those are just boobs. What you've got is one of the most amazing pairs of't"
"Let's go, angels," Kiki cut in. "It's time to prep for the mission and assume our position."
Suzi-Suzi glanced down at her cleavage. "Okay, not loving the new guy so much anymore."
A short time later, Kiki was regal as she walked in advance of the team. It would work. It had to work. And when it did, one thing was certain: In the next headline cycle, the incident would be solidified in the wet newsprint of New York gossip. And she had a visual on the most obvious cover banner:
KIKI'S GREAT ESCAPE.
* * *
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Postcards from Paris
Breckin!
You're probably going to think, did she even READ my last e-mail, but, darling, I did, and it opened up a pathway to paradise in terms of ideas. Yes, more ideas! You were being a snarky little shit, but now I'm convinced that a European wedding is the ONLY way to go. I vote Paris. Why? Because I adore the people there. Have you read FRENCH WOMEN DON'T GET FAT? It's my new bible. I take it everywhere. Paris! It will be so magical. We have to plan a trip soon to scout locations. Of course, this means the wedding can't happen until sometime in 2006. At least. And what if we find the perfect place, and it's already booked? So it could be 2007 or even 2008. I hope Roman and Julia won't be too disappointed by the wait. Do you mind breaking the news? I'm swamped with a million things. If they put up too much of a fuss, just tell them that long engagements are good for couples.
Air Kisses, Kiki
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
Kiki was nervous. And when the ancient elevator spit her out and into the Affair lobby, she got more nervous.
Even in full costume, she felt exposed. There was always the chance that some tabloid urchin would recognize her, that her Agent 99 plan would add up to less than zero come execution time.
She scoured the area like a ghost town sheriff looking for outlaw drifters in the Deadwood Saloon. In the corner: two lovers going at it on a plush sofa that threatened to swallow them. At the front desk: a silver-haired executive checking in with a girl who was likely born the year he finally braved his first prostate exam. Near the entrance: the fidgety desperate housewife who needed an extra Xanax because she wanted her building's FedEx driver more than her own husband.
Basically, the usual suspects. No sign of the enemyon a visual level. A gut check revealed the sameon a metaphysical one. Kiki relaxed enough to park herself .in a club chair near the window that looked onto Fourteenth Street. From right here she could watch it unfold. Outside and in.
Jackie Dickinson had provided Kiki with all the accouterments to play the role of makeover recovery victim. Hermes scarf that covered the head. Dior sunglasses that eclipsed the eyes. Postsurgery salve that gooped onto the face and left it glistening like slime. The getup got looks. And then those looks looked away. After all, everybody wanted the after. Nobody wanted the before. So Kiki was more invisible than a Maxim girl on a gay cruise.
The scheme had spilled into her mind like an easy jigsaw. She put the corner pieces together first. And then the rest had fallen into place.
Kiki felt a rush of excitement. The moment of truth had arrived. She watched as Kirby's silver Taurus coasted to the entrance of the hotel and parked directly behind a gleaming black Escalade.
Danni hit her mark next, hobbling up the sidewalk on aluminum crutches and loitering just outside the door.
Right on cue, Tiffany Lynn appeared, moving through the lobby at a slow bump-and-grind until she stopped dead center, flung off the Affair terry cloth robe, and stood there, gloriously nude from the waist up, La Perla thong perfection from the waist down.
A torrent of attention began to build.
Tiffany Lynn vogued through her best poses, like a Cannes A-lister who lived for the superleaded fuel of being flash-bulbed on the red-carpeted stairs of the Palais.
The massive invasion was next. Paparazzi lurking outside became paparazzi busting inside. They played instant shutterbug music for the mystery blond goddess, occasionally raising hands to the ceiling in theatrical appreciation for the naked girl's considerable visuals.
"That's Kiki Douglas!" Danni screamed.
In a millisecond, the interest in Tiffany Lynn closed down. And stayed that way. Photographer nuts were cracking as the cash burned right in front of their eyes. The bigger get was getting away. Like a swarm of locusts they moved in the direction of Danni's voice.
Outside, Suzi-Suzi stepped into view, swinging the Raquel wig that made her look just enough like Kiki to whip the image stealers into a frenzy. She timed her moment beautifully, allowing them a view that lasted a heartbeat and a half before slipping into the backseat of the Taurus and diving down.
Kirby slammed the gas. The sedan took off with a screech. By the time the last picture pig stumbled onto the sidewalk, the Taurus was weaving in and out of traffic.
"The bitch got away!" A bottom-feeder with bad teeth made the most obvious announcement of the century.
And Kiki was reading his lips, smiling wickedly. A reprieve for the moment. She glanced around, surprised that Fab hadn't turned up in the lobby during Tiffany Lynn's travel
ing Camisole show. The thought lingered. Where was he?
Her cellular rang.
A secret twenty bucks said it was Suzi-Suzi calling from the floor of Kirby's Taurus. But Kiki lost the bet. And she was glad to end the gamble upside down. Because it was Fab on the line. And that put things right side up again.
His voice was dry. "I just got a call from the front desk manager. Apparently, Girls Gone Wild: New York is filming in my lobby. I'm guessing you had something to do with that."
"First sign of trouble and you think of me? I'm offended," Kiki purred.
"That easily? Funny, I never figured you for the overly sensitive type." In the background, construction workers made lots of noise.
Kiki waited for quiet. "You sound busy. Since when do you call from job sites?"
The building ruckus morphed into street noise. "I was just checking on a new project."
"Another hotel?"
"No, a nightclub this time. It's right next door to Affair. So I'm calling it Foreign Affair."
Now Kiki could see him strutting down Fourteenth Street. "Clever. Every girl dreams of having one of those. I predict brisk business."
"Let's hope. There's a lot of money riding on this." She sensed an odd timbre in Fab's voice, something that she'd never heard before genuine nervousness.
"Wait a minute. Fab Tomba hopes ? I thought he just knew ."
"It's a risky venture." His tone was serious. "The Gansevoort has a rooftop bar, there's Cielo, Hell, PM, Soho House, Hogs and Heifers, the Maritime. Plus, Spice Market and Pastis have big bar scenes" He trailed off. "Sorry. I don't mean to be a drag. It's just that I had a tense meeting with investors today. And I'm one of them." He sighed. "Can't you tell?"
"I wouldn't worry so much about competition," Kiki said. "Nightlife crawlers are like kids on a playground. Wherever you kick the ball is where they'll run."
Fab was gliding through the lobby now, cellular to ear, speed-walking toward his office. "Nicely put. I might have to steal that."
