First Kiss - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 02]

by Kylie Adams

  Kiki took off in hot pursuit. "Feel free. And rememberall you need to guarantee success is a brutal door policy."

  Fab laughed. "Brutal, huh?"

  "I take that back. Brutal is too soft. Make it excruciating ."

  "Nightlife as social masochism," he said wryly. "I'm intrigued."

  "And keep your listing out of Fodor's ," Kiki went on. "You'll never want tourists invading the island. That's a sure sign things are going downhill."

  "You know, maybe I should offer you a six-figure salary to be my velvet rope bitch."

  Now it was Kiki's turn to laugh. "Ten years ago, I would've said yes to that. When do you open?"

  "Next month. That's the plan. But it looks like the contractors have a year's worth of work left."

  "They probably do. That doesn't mean they won't finish on time, though." She stepped inside his office to find him at his spotless desk. "Boo."

  Fab glanced up. There was hesitation. "This must be a new look." He closed his mobile. "Don't get me wrong. I like it. But I prefer the green face. Reminds me of that sexy alien woman Captain Kirk slept with on Star Trek ."

  Kiki smiled. "Well, if it doesn't work out for me in New York, I'll always have a career on the Trekkie convention circuit to fall back on." She paused a beat. "Listen. I think you should be aware of something. There's been a breach in hotel security."

  "I'll say," Fab said, his voice brimming with mock outrage. "Spontaneous acts of stripping are taking place in my lobby. I'd have the girl arrested, but all my guests are demanding an encore."

  "I'm serious, Fab. Somebody tipped off the media that I was staying here. I think it might've been someone on your staff."

  He shook his head. "No way."

  Kiki started to protest.

  "Not my staff. But I think I know who it was."

  She waited for his answer.

  "Zac Toledo. I got a call from a columnist just before I left for my investors meeting. Of course, I refused comment on everything. She got frustrated and let it slip that she already had a reliable source in Zac and that the story would run as is. The little punk pulls this shit all the time, apparently. He feeds columnists stories in exchange for mentions about himself."

  Kiki knew the type. Society boys had to work much harder for the attention that girls like Paris Hilton got just for pulling dresses over their heads. "Does Serafina know?"

  "At this point, I could give my sister proof that he's the Antichrist, and it wouldn't make a difference." His sigh was troubled.

  "I know it must be difficult to sit on the sidelines, but it's just a phase. Most girls her age go through it. I did, too. I even lost a trust fund as a direct result of my stupidity over guys. But Serafina's stronger and smarter than I was at her age. She'll be fine.

  Trust me. At the end of the day, your sister is Teflon-coated."

  Fab managed a half grin. "Thanks. I needed to hear that." For a moment, he grew pensive, almost melancholy.

  Kiki sat down. "What is it?"

  "Nothing it's it's just hard for me to accept that my sister thinks that I'm like him that I'm an overgrown Zac Toledo." He glanced up, and for the first time she saw him as vulnerable. "I'll be the first to admit that I've got some commitment issues, but"

  "Commitment issues don't make you a Zac Toledo," Kiki assured him. "That just makes you a man. God, it makes you human . I've got commitment issues, too. For instance, I can't settle with a good fa-cialist. And don't get me started on stylists and colorists." She leaned forward to whisper, "I'm a total hair slut ."

  Fab grinned. All the way this time. "I'll say this, Kiki. You do have a clever way of putting a sunny spin on things. That's why I think that book of yours is going to be a success."

  Kiki paused a moment, allowing the comment ample time to evaporate. He talked about her book dream with such seriousness. It made her uncomfortable, because deep down, she knew that she would never finish it. And even if she one day managed to produce the discipline to get something down on paper, she'd never in a million years have the temerity to show it to anybody, especially a professional within the publishing industry. The thought alone terrified her.

  "So put those thoughts out of your head," Kiki said, circling wide around the book talk and steering back toward Fab's sister. "Zac is certainly one of those creeps who breaks up with a girl by e-mail, if he even bothers to tell her that the relationship is over at all." She smiled at him shrewdly. "I'm sure all of your exes got a nice dinner and a lovely parting gift with their exit speech. At the very least."

  Fab grinned and offered a modest, diffident shrug in a show of self-deprecating amusement, but, ultimately, the reaction revealed nothing at all. Which seemed to be a pattern with him. Revealing very little.

  Kiki sat there as the Fab Tomba folklore tumbled down. The columnists had their spin. Kirby and Tiffany Lynn had theirs. Serafina got her licks in. Fab himself had a prickly nature when comparisons to Zac Toledo or any other womanizer from the same smarm pool came gurgling up. And all of it led back to the same dead-end cliche: a heartache waiting to happen. So why did she still believe that her experience with him would be totally different?

  "What are you thinking about?" Fab asked. "I see a question trying to form, but you seem to be holding back."

  "Oh, I seem to be holding back?" Kiki sniffed. "That's rich. You'll hardly tell me what your favorite color is."

  "Green."

  Kiki rolled her eyes skyward.

  He leaned back in his chair and formed a pyramid with his fingertips. "Okay, ask me anything. Nothing's off limits. Shoot to kill."

  It was her opening. She went for it. "Tell me what happened with Tiffany Lynn."

  He smiled, saying nothing. But there was a wince. A slight one. "Nothing happened . She's a sweet girl. It just didn't work out. That's all."

  " It just didn't work out ," Kiki repeated. "Let me give you a bit of advice. As it pertains to relationships, that's a word string you should probably delete from your vocabulary. It's almost as insulting as any apology that goes something like, I'm sorry you feel that way ."

  Fab's smile deepened. "But those are two of my favorites."

  "I have no doubt. Is that what the girl from The Apprentice heard, too? Didn't she come after Tiffany Lynn?"

  There was an expression on Fab's face that was not far from irritation. "I'm not leaving women at the altar, Kiki. I date. I date a lot . What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing, I suppose," Kiki answered. "As long as you're up-front about it and getting involved for the right reasons."

  "Can you give me the Kiki Douglas version of a right reason to get involved?" He was getting angry, and his playboy baggage was filling up the small space of his office. Soon they would have to cut out of the room to make room for it.

  "I can give you a wrong one," Kiki said. Enough dancing around the bush. Time to burn it. "It would be wrong to date the new dancer at Camisole because she's fresh from the West Coast and the club's number one girl. It would also be wrong to date a girl just because she's on television's hottest reality show."

  "Or leading the headlines over the last few days," Fab finished. One beat. "The accusation being that I'm some kind of trophy dater who only gets off on novelty chicks." He waved his hand in a quick dismissal of the theory altogether. "Bullshit. I went out with Tiffany because for a quick minute Camisole was balm for my soul. I was stressed out and needed to loosen up after work. I walk in a club like that, and there's no asking, no begging, no charming. Just a one hundred percent guarantee that girls will get naked for me. It's a Barbie fantasy. And Tiffany Lynn's as gorgeous as they come. What man wouldn't want to go out with her? It was casual for me, but I saw her getting attached, so I cut it off before any more damage got done. I never wanted to hurt her. She's a sweetheart. As for The Apprentice

  girl, she has a name. Amanda . We met at a restaurant opening and went out twice. She canceled our third date and stopped returning my calls. Turns out she just wasn't that into me. Imagine that.
And as for you, the fact that you've been leading the headlines in the Post is the least interesting thing about you. For once I've met a girl I can play serious verbal volley with. Sometimes it's frustrating, but it's never boring."

  For long seconds, Kiki just sat there with nothing to say. And then she found the words. "Uh, I guess now is a bad time to ask for a room upgrade."

  Fab grinned, leaning forward to access the information on his iMac. "The May-December suite just became available this morning. I'll set you up there." He spun around to retrieve something from a working table behind him. "I mentioned that I spoke to a few literary agents, right?"

  Kiki nodded. Oh, God. The book again.

  "Both expressed interest. They'd like to take a look at a proposal." Fab slid a packet across the desk. "Here's an explanation of the format and a model example to follow. Act now while your name is on people's lips. This is the kind of book that gets sold over lunch."

  Kiki watched him, her chin balancing on the tips of her fingers, her elbows on the desk. "You actually think I can do this, don't you?"

  "Absolutely. And I want to be on the book tour when you go up against Bill O'Reilly." That should be an interesting match up.

  Kiki held his eyeshonest eyes, and maybe, just maybe, even committed eyes

  * * *

  From: kiki@misstexas95.com

  To: numbersgeek@aol.com vshelton@kleinschmidtbelker

  Subject: Just for Fun

  Hi Girls!

  Any word on the groomsmen yet? I know this sounds very seventh grade, but let's have a little fun and list our top three dream groomsmen and see if any of them match up. What a hoot!

  KIKI'S GROOMSMEN WISH LIST

  Brad Pitt (must have short hair and no facial hair)

  Clive Owen (can show up with syphilis as long as he comes)

  Michael Vartan (must go sleeveless to show his tattoo)

  KIKI'S GROOMSMEN WISH LIST ALTERNATES (in the event that one or more from the main list can't fulfill their duties)

  George Clooney (must agree to take me to his Italian villa after)

  Jon Stewart (cute funny Jewish guys are always good in a pinch)

  Jon Bon Jovi (has to sing "It's My Life" at reception)

  Now it's your turn!

  Air Kisses,

  Kiki

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  The May-December suite was opulent, luxurious, and, at almost one thousand square feet, larger than Kiki's apartment.

  A velvet curtain divided the romantic bedroom sanctuary (with an egg-shaped tub placed in front of an enormous Venetian mirror) from a separate living area complete with a dining table and a guest bathroom.

  "I'm never leaving!" Kiki thundered as Tate followed behind, lugging her garbage bags filled with so many useless things that Suzi-Suzi had packed. " Ever ! Do you hear me? I'm moving in."

  Tate merely smiled as he struggled with her belongings, offering a respectful, "It will be our pleasure to have you."

  Kiki cocked her head to one side. "By the way, how much is this room per night?"

  The blank look on Tate's face matched his blank answer.

  Oh, God, it must be an enormous amount. It was more than twice the size of her old hovel. But after seeing this , Kiki was practically insulted that Fab had ever put her in the Mistress Hideaway in the first place. It amounted to nothing more than a closet!

  Okay, so the hotel had been booked solid. Still, something could've been done. A bit of rearranging, that sort of thing. It happened all the time in restaurants and clubs. For instance, if P. Diddy showed up at, say, Bungalow 8, with twelve bodyguards in tow, people would be plucked from tables to make room. Just ask Tori Spelling. Her night was cut short once. Anyway, why should that icky politician who liked to be dominated get a nicer room?

  Kiki banished the categorical unfairness from her mind. Now that she had the proper accommodations, she could get some real work done. It was hard to accomplish anything without enough space or too much clutter junked around. A girl needed a clean environment.

  She settled in at the desk and jotted down a quick checklist on Affair stationery:

  KIKI'S THINGS TO DO

  1) Write book proposal

  2) Get agent info for Suzi-Suzi

  3) Find Kirby a better job

  4) Head-to-toe glamour treatment

  Kiki reviewed the list and decided that the best thing to do would be to start with smaller tasks. That way the act of checking them off would serve as a motivator to get more doneas opposed to starting with some enormous project like a book proposal and then not being able to finish it.

  Well, who knew the glamour treatment would take hours? Thank God for Suzi-Suzi's A-Z thinking in packing the complete beauty arsenal. Kiki was able to do a manicure, pedicure, body wrap treatment, eye mask, face mask, throat mask, deep hair conditioning treatment, light chemical peel, teeth bleaching, light waxing session (eyebrows, upper lip, bikini), and a cellulite-fighting cream blast. Exhausting!

  But she did double up on tasks. Confused about the waxing directions, she called Bliss Spa for a bit of phone help and secured the name and number of that agent for Suzi-Suzi. Now, finally able to relax for a moment, she was soaking in a vitamin-enriched Sake bath and had time to make at least one phone call. She rang Suzi-Suzi.

  " You are brilliant. I'll never doubt your packing judgment again," Kiki said without preamble.

  "Oh, my God! You did the head-to-toe glamour treatment," Suzi-Suzi said. "I can tell just by the sound of your voice. How amazing is that feeling?"

  "More than amazing," Kiki agreed. "In a way, it's like great sex."

  "I've never heard it described like that. But you're so right. And can I just tell you that it is also exhausting ."

  "I was just telling myself the same thing."

  "People don't understand. I'd like to see some of these military guys go through a head-to-toe glamour treatment. Marines act like they can handle anything, but they'd fall down like ninepins."

  "They'd be complete powder puffs," Kiki agreed. She sank down a bit to let the Sake bath lap over her shoulders and neck. "So how did the sex therapist thing go?"

  "I won't know right away. It takes a few sessions. Otherwise, every girl would be clunking her guy over the head and dragging him in there."

  "I'm so excited about this new agent for you. I think he's going to find you some wonderful projects," Kiki said.

  "I was working on my resume earlier, and after today's caper, I think I'm going to add Alias to my list of shows that I've been on."

  "I don't see why not," Kiki encouraged.

  "Did you see me in the wig? I totally worked it. And then I jumped into the Taurus and dove down to the floor. By that measure, I'm not just an actress but a stunt woman, too."

  "Put that down," Kiki said. "It shows you're very athletic, and sometimes casting notices come in requesting that."

  "I want to add as many things as possible, so that I get tons of auditions."

  "Knowing other languages is always good."

  "I can't speak Spanish, but I love Latin male singers," Suzi-Suzi said.

  "Hey, that's half the battle," Kiki said. "If you ask me, that makes you bilingual."

  "And what about Japanese? Again, don't speak a word, but my nephew loves those Yu-Gi-Oh cards, and I'm constantly buying them for him."

  "Okay, fluent in Japanese," Kiki decided.

  "Really?"

  "Totally," Kiki said. She signed off and slipped into a sexy pajama ensemble by Picalina. The little shorts were fuchsia and had the cutest little heart buttons splitting up the side, flashing skin from upper thigh to hip bone. The matching tank was snug and featured a rhinestone-studded hummingbird on the front.

  Spritzing herself with Bobbi Brown's Beach, she inhaled the delicious Coppertone hints, a fragrance she loved but couldn't use as one. After all, it'd just be stupid to walk around wearing Coppertone all day.

  Three knocks rapped the door.

 
Her first visitor in the new suite! She raced to answer. And this time she wasn't surprised to find Fab on the other side of the door.

  For a second, his eyes did that crazy am-I-seeing-what-I-think-I'm-seeing thing. He swallowed hard. The bob of his Adam's apple was a main event.

  Kiki left him standing there and walked, slowly, to the French four-poster bed with the sumptuous silk canopy and crawled into it like a lazy cat who just finished a big meal. Yawning and stretching, she made certain that the work of Dr. Mendez was being properly exhibited. "God, I'm so tired."

  Without warning, Fab bum-rushed the show. He stormed inside, kicked the door shut behind him, and in a mangled voice growled, "You smell so damn good," as he climbed on top of her, kissing her like mad.

  Kiki mocked his need, playfully pushing him away. "Fab, stop, I'm ready for bed, and you're getting me all messed up."

  "I've never seen you like this," he murmured, hearing none of it, still nothing but hands.

  "Like what?"

  "Perfect. Beautiful. Like dessert. God, I just want to eat you up!"

  Kiki laughed. "It's no big deal. This is my standard bedtime routine."

  The expression was instant slave. The impression was a thousand nights of bedtime with her could still be considered relationship infancy.

  "I've never seen you look so gorgeous," Fab marveled. "Think about it. The first time we met you were running for your life from the paparazzi. Then I caught you with that Fango mud deal. Next time was the morning after your tequila raid. And earlier today, well, let's not even talk about that." He stroked her leg from knee to thigh. "But this is you." He lunged for her.

  She twisted away from him. "Fab wait. Don't you think we should talk about what happened this afternoon? Or rather, what seems to always happen to us whenever we're not having sex?" One beat. "Or trying to in the stairwell?" Kiki didn't wait for him to answer. "I don't know. Maybe we're two very passionate people. Or maybe we're just not compatible."