Kiss Kiss

by Various Authors

  Broncos 17. Chiefs 14.

  The game is very exciting and ends with the Chiefs winning, 17-28.

  Danny played brilliantly.

  After the game, the media is all over him. They tell him what a great game he had and want him to speculate on whether he should be the starting quarterback.

  Danny takes it all in stride and says very appropriately, “Mark Conway is the Chiefs’ starting quarterback. He’s our team leader, and I just went out there today and tried my best to fill his shoes. I really have to give all the credit to the offensive line. They took care of me and made my job very easy. I had all day to throw the ball.”

  “So how do you like KC so far?” a reporter asks.

  “Well, I came here from the University of Nebraska, home of the greatest fans in college football. So I feel right at home here in KC, home of the greatest fans in the NFL.”

  What a suck up, I think. Of course, I know he’s serious.

  Another reporter says, “And this is quite a day for you personally, as well. Congratulations. So what did you think when you saw your wife on the big screen?”

  “Well, it certainly took my mind off how nervous I was,” Danny replies simply.

  Now there’s an understatement if I ever heard one.

  Phillip has been staying at my house all week. We’ve been getting along very well and managed to fly under everyone’s radar, except for Danny, Lori, and Phillip’s parents. I mean, I’ve always been comfortable around him, but Danny’s right. This way has many benefits, and I am really liking them. Phillip has been good and hasn’t told me he loves me, and I haven’t been letting my mind screw things up.

  So far, so good.

  We’re sitting on the floor in front of the TV on Wednesday night when Phillip says, “Princess, let’s go on a real date this Saturday. You free?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, but then he grabs me and tickles, so I scream, “Yes! Yes! I’m free!”

  When he finally lets me up from tickling and kissing me I say, “So where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere nice,” he says, not really answering. “Well, a little nicer than Hooters anyway.”

  “Phillip,” I whine.

  But he just sits there with his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Fine. No more kisses for you until you tell me.”

  “Oh, okay. I thought The View Room. So do I get a kiss now?”

  The View Room is our city’s nicest and most romantic restaurant. It sits at the top of a local hotel and overlooks Omaha and the Missouri River, which from that far up actually looks pretty instead of yucky and muddy.

  “Yes, that sounds perfect,” I say and kiss him, “and romantic.”

  “That’s kind of the idea.”

  When I wake up Saturday morning, Phillip’s not in bed, but there’s a little note laying on my nightstand.

  I can’t wait either!

  I should also mention that I’m very proud of the fact that I don’t freak out and try to analyze or interpret all the possible meanings of the heart.

  Because it just doesn’t matter.

  I lie in bed staring at Phillip’s note. It makes my heart feel warm. I close my eyes and relive our week together. I’ve had such a wonderful time with him. I really could picture myself marrying him. And evidently the chicken shit in me has flown the coop, because it’s not even that scary of a thought any more. I probably should get up. I think I’ll pamper myself and spend most of the day getting ready. I really want to look great tonight. So I get up, have a bowl of Frosted Flakes, and decide to start by giving myself a pedicure.

  I’m digging through my bathroom closet for pedicure supplies, when my doorbell rings.

  I run to the door and look out the window. I see a huge bouquet of roses with two legs. I open the door and the deliveryman, who does have more to his body than just two legs, hands me a massive bouquet.

  Wow!

  There are three, yes three, dozen beautiful, long-stemmed red roses in a huge vase.

  I just stand there for a minute and breathe in. They smell wonderful!

  Gosh, I wonder who they’re from?

  Actually, I’m just teasing, I have a pretty good idea who they’re from.

  Phillip.

  Wow! He’s really getting into this whole first date thing.

  I mean, no one ever sends flowers like this before a first date. But I guess this isn’t your typical first date. I mean, we have had an amazing week together.

  And rarely do you get them after the first date because the guy would be all afraid to look like he was crazy about you, even if he is.

  Guys would think that’s not cool.

  But Phillip knows I love flowers, and knowing him, he probably knows exactly how many times and from whom I have gotten flowers in the past. My record is two dozen pink roses from Jason O’Connor. Jason was from a very wealthy family, so Phillip irritatingly called him Richie Rich. Jason was adorable, but he could be a bit arrogant and tended to drink a lot. Bad combination. He got wasted at my winter formal, got mouthy, and started a fight. I’d had enough, so I left him at the dance. The next day, he sent me the flowers as an apology. I accepted the roses, but not his apology. One of the few times I have actually followed Phillip’s advice on boys.

  So, Phillip knows that three dozen roses is by far the biggest arrangement I have ever received, or practically seen, for that matter.

  I’m just ready to close my door and go into the house when Phillip’s sister, Ashley, comes walking up the sidewalk. I can just see her through some of the stems.

  “Hey, JJ. Wow, those flowers are gorgeous! Are they from anyone I might know?”

  “Well, I don’t know, I have so many men in my life these days.”

  Actually, that’s how it used to be. I always had lots of boys around, and I liked it because it meant I didn’t have to get serious with any of them. And in retrospect, I probably didn’t get serious with anyone because I’ve always had Phillip.

  I’m happy to say that for one whole week, there has been only one man in my life.

  And has he been in my life. I can’t seem to get rid of him.

  He wants to be with me every second.

  And guess what?

  That’s not even bugging me yet! So things are going really well!

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to pick you up.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Ash, but I’m already sort of spoken for.”

  “Very funny.” She rolls her eyes at me.

  I walk back inside and put the big, beautiful bouquet on my kitchen table. It dwarfs it. This flower arrangement is so big it looks like it should be in the lobby of a Vegas casino. Oh, I don’t mean that they are tacky or gaudy in any way. It’s just so very large!

  “So,” Ashley says, “big first date tonight, huh?” She frowns at me. “Hmm. You don’t look like you’re ready.”

  “Ah, no, I’m not, since the date doesn’t start for like seven hours. I kinda thought I’d pace myself, Ash, but I was just getting ready to paint my toenails.”

  “Not anymore. We are going to get you beautiful.”

  Like I’m not already?

  “We are?”

  “Yes. I’m taking you to Bloom Beautiful Spa, that new place.”

  “Wow! I’ve heard that place is incredible.”

  “It is and I don’t want to be late, so we have to leave. Now!”

  Ashley is still very bossy. I’m glad she’s married, because now she has someone else to boss around.

  Bloom is a great place. I love it!

  Ashley and I are immediately treated to a glass of wine. When I question her about drinking wine at ten o’clock in the morning, she just raises her glass to me, takes a drink, and quotes a Jimmy Buffet song, “Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  We sit and relax for a bit. Ashley is babbling on about something, but I’m kinda tuning her out because my mind is on Phillip.

  I thought it was pretty cool he left me
a sweet note this morning, but then, wow, the flowers were amazing.

  And now the spa?

  I’ve known Phillip for a long time, and he has only sent flowers on two occasions, one being Valentine's Day and the other, I forget really why, but they were both waaaay back in high school.

  Really, that seems a bit odd to me now that I think about it, because Phillip has had quite a few girlfriends.

  They just never seemed to last.

  I wonder if that was my fault.

  And if it is, I’m glad.

  Sorry, but I am.

  Phillip has always given me flowers on Valentine's Day. They were not like delivered or anything, but he usually stopped at the grocery store and bought me a sweet little bouquet.

  I used to tease him, telling him that he must have a secret crush on me, and he would jokingly tell me that he only did it because he was afraid I wouldn’t get anything from a real guy, and then I’d be horrible to live with. He has always been so sweet to me. I seriously do not know why I never hooked up with him before this.

  Maybe I knew deep down he was worth more than that?

  The other night, I asked him why he never tried anything with me, and he said he was waiting for me to make a move. I was like, So you really didn’t want to? and he was like, No, I just—I don’t know, it just never felt like the right time, and I didn’t want to be like all the other random guys. And I was like, Chicken.

  And then he attacked me.

  Mmmmm.

  I hear my name being called, and it breaks my daydream.

  I stand up and ask Ashley, “Hey, did Phillip plan all the spa stuff too?” She just smiled that sneaky smile of hers. She loves knowing stuff that you don’t know.

  My first treatment is a gingerbread body scrub. After nearly an hour of having my body scrubbed and massaged, I’m feeling amazing. I go back to the relaxation area, curl up on a chaise, and read the latest Cosmo.

  Well, I am specifically reading an article about how to please my man, which I am hoping could be, um, useful tonight.

  Ashley comes out of her treatment room and says, “Isn’t this place just heavenly?” She looks all limp, like they poured her out of the room, and she is practically drooling. I think she is really enjoying herself.

  My name is called again, this time for a pumpkin enzyme facial. Afterwards, my skin feels so smooth, and I must say, I smell incredible.

  Seriously, Phillip will not be able to resist me tonight. I smell like pumpkin bread and gingerbread cookies, which are two of his very favorites!

  We are served a wonderful yummy lunch and more wine. I’m really quite relaxed, which is probably a good thing because if I weren’t, I might be thinking about tonight, about Phillip, about our future, if we have a future—all that scary stuff.

  And, all of a sudden, I am really, surprisingly, nervous for our date.

  I know that sounds silly, having known Phillip forever, but I want it to go well.

  It needs to go well.

  I think that in my mind I have always thought Phillip kind of crushed on me, and I’ve always felt sort of in control of our friendship, but now . . . I’m thinking that I did my fair share of crushing as well and, well, I really think I love that boy.

  I mean, I think.

  I’m pretty positive—well, practically completely mostly positive, and I really want to make a good impression.

  Like a knock-his-socks-off impression.

  Next up is a side-by-side pedicure with Ash. Ashley and I have fun during the pedicure. We talk and laugh about all the stupid stuff we did as kids, and how Phillip and Danny used to be scrawny little things. And how that has really changed. I mean, they are both very hot and very not scrawny.

  After a blissful pedicure I have sparkly, bright red toenails. What is it about painted toenails that make you feel so sexy?

  Next we get our nails done. French manicure for me and bright fuchsia for Ashley.

  “Okay, time for hair and makeup,” she says, floating down the hall in front of me.

  She leads me to Rico’s styling chair. Ashley and Rico start discussing my hair, like I’m invisible and have no say in the matter.

  Ashley is telling him, “This is a very special occasion. I really think it needs to go in a pretty updo.”

  And I’m thinking, very special occasion?

  Kind of special?

  Sure.

  Special?

  Yeah.

  Very special?

  I don’t know. It’s not like it’s Prom. I mean, yes, I want to make a good impression and look amazing, but it’s still just a first date!

  Rico says, “No, I do somezhing differint.”

  Different? Now that worries me. I could end up with purple hair or something. Plus, from personal experience, I have learned updos don’t stay up so good if the guy you’re with likes to play with your hair. And Phillip is always messing with my hair. I have to admit that I love it. Honestly, I love pretty much everything that boy does to me.

  So I take control and say, “You know, Phillip always sees me in a ponytail, so I definitely want my hair down. Maybe you could do some of those sexy waves all the stars are wearing these days?”

  Rico considers my request, by running his fingers through my hair. “Chez, I zink wee coud do zhat. Perfecto.”

  Two hours later, my body has had about all the relaxation and primping it can take. Aside from my sexy toes, pretty nails, and tasty body, I’m sporting long, sexy waves and a face full of artfully applied makeup.

  I look and feel great.

  “Almost perfect,” Ashley says, appraising me in the mirror.

  “Almost?” What else could there be?

  “Well, you can’t wear sweats there, can you?” Ashley snips, in her smart-ass way.

  Ashley drives me back home and lugs a beautifully-wrapped box and a gift bag into my house.

  “I have a couple of presents for you,” she teases. She knows I love presents. “But first, champagne.”

  She pulls a bottle out of the bag and opens it, without getting it all over. That’s a talent I didn’t know she had, and I’m impressed because I always seem to make a big mess with champagne. I get a couple of flutes from the kitchen and hand them to her.

  “Sit down.” She pours champagne into our glasses and raises her glass dramatically into the air—like she’s in front of an audience and not just me. “I propose a toast. To one of my best friends, someone who is like a sister to me. I hope that someday my brother will get off his ass and make us sisters for real.”

  I hesitate on that toast.

  “Drink,” she bosses.

  When the Queen says drink, we drink.

  “Ash, that’s very nice, but don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little?”

  “No, I don’t. And we’re going to toast again. This time to the fact that with this date you are headed down the road to becoming my sister.”

  “Ashley, I can’t drink to that.”

  I mean, I seriously hope that’s the road I’m heading down, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  She gets testy with me and says, “Well, what will you drink to then?”

  “Gosh, I can drink to the fact that I am indeed on a road.” She grins at me. I shake my head and say, “This road is long and windy and could have many forks in it as well, and it is a possibility, albeit a small one, that one of those paths could possibly, someday, eventually lead to marriage.”

  She drinks to this.

  I swear I’m going to be drunk before my date.

  A horn honks outside.

  “Crap, so soon? It’s only four-thirty. He is not supposed to be here until five. We’re not even ready yet.” She is muttering, as she heads toward the door, “I hate being rushed.”

  “Uh, Ashley, it’s ten till five. Is Phillip out there? I mean it’s okay with me if—”

  “No, he’s not out there,” she says, quickly interrupting me, “but the limo is.”

  I watch Ashley run out my front d
oor, and think, a limo?

  Ashley comes flying back in the house. “I told him we needed a few more minutes.”

  “Oh! I’ve got to get dressed, Ash. Come help me decide which dress to wear. I have four different ones, but I just don’t know who I want to be tonight.”

  “Who you want to be?” She laughs at me like I’m nuts. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, come in my room, and you’ll see.”

  Ashley sits on my bed, watching me.

  I’m cheap entertainment, I think.

  I pull the first dress out of my closet. “Okay, so this dress is the kind of sexy, wild me,” I say, holding up a slinky, red wrap dress. I put it down on the bed and grab another one. “This one is the more conservative me.” I hold a little black dress in front of me and then place it on the bed. “This third one,” a flowing, fuchsia and gold paisley dress with a scalloped hem, “is the creative, kind of artsy, me. And the last one,” a simple cream silk dress, “is the demure, innocent me.”

  I still have no idea who I should be. Really none of them seem quite right, and that’s not the way it’s supposed to be because I look great and, you know, I feel complete.

  And then I start to panic a little.

  “Ashley, what does Phillip like? Who should I be?”

  “JJ, don’t freak, he likes you. All of you,” she says, rolling her eyes at me and apparently insinuating I have multiple personalities.

  She runs in the kitchen, grabs the big box, and sets it on my bed.

  “Why don’t you open this and see if it’ll solve your problem.”

  So I open it.

  And I think she is very right.

  Problem solved.

  Nestled in the box is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. It’s made of stretchy ivory lace, lined with a golden colored silk.

  It’s the kind of dress in which, from a distance, you look naked underneath the lace.

  I know this because a girl from my sorority had a top made this way, and when we walked in the bar, the boys practically went crazy and couldn’t get over there fast enough to see her up close.