by Kylie Adams
Kiki rolled over onto her stomach. "Okay, I am such a terrible friend. Do you realize that I have completely spaced out and forgotten about Danni?"
"Oh, please," Suzi-Suzi said, dismissing the subject altogether. "I talked to her before I called you. She's back at home, has a date with the George Clooney doctor tonight, and can start dancing again sometime next week. Danni Summer is fine. We are the ones with problems."
Kiki felt better now. She had just parted her lips to reply when a second call beeped in. The number didn't ring any bells. "I've got another call. Let me know how the hypnosis thing goes." She clicked over. "Hello?"
Heather Vandercamp was on the line. Another summer bride, and a quasi-friend from a hundred years ago who really dug deep into the past so she could have eighteen bridesmaids. Ridiculous with an upper case "R."
"Kiki, how are you?" The voice was all faux distress. "It's Heather in Seattle. I had to call as soon as I heard."
Ugh. The Tom Brock Affair. God, she kept forgetting about it. Of course, it did happen to be the reason why she was ensconced here. "Heather, please," Kiki said reassuringly. "That situation is a complete joke. I barely know Tom Brock. 1 am friends with his wife, though."
" You're friends with Kirsten Brock?" The tone suggested that such a development ranked up there with other impossibilities like a straight husband for Liza Minnelli or an Oscar for Pamela Anderson.
"Of course," Kiki lied. She kept her tone breezy. "We've been laughing about this. As soon as the maelstrom dies down, we'll be able to go shopping again."
On the other end of the line, Heather Vandercamp was silent. Then she got to the point. "That's good." But clearly she didn't think so. "Kiki, I have some disappointing news. My mother is convinced the wedding has gotten too big. It kills me to do it, but I have to go on a bridesmaid diet." She laughed a little. "In other words, lose a few."
Kiki just lay there, fuming, the theme from Jaws playing inside her head. So the bridal sharks were circling. First Misty Dallin and now Heather. "Are you telling me that I'm out?"
"Deciding who to cut was torture ," Heather said.
"And there were so many girls to considermy sisters, my cousins, my closest friends, girls at the office." She sighed heavily. "I wish I could have fifty bridesmaids."
Kiki couldn't take another word. "Heather, get over yourself. On my who-gives-a-shit meter, your stupid wedding registers a flatline. That's how little I care about it. My concern is the nonrefundable super-saver airfare to Seattle that I already purchased. And that god-awful dress I bought. Not to mention the gifts, which I ordered way in advance from Tiffany and Co. so they could be mono-grammed. By the way, personalized items can't be returned. And 1 don't believe for a second that your mother is making you cut bridesmaids ." She put all her emphasis on the plural. "It's probably just me. I bet you have seventeen in the ceremony now."
"Actually," Heather said tartly, "it's still eighteen. I brought in an alternate to take your spot."
"Bitch!" Kiki screamed.
"Scandal whore!" Heather shot back.
Kiki hated to go nuclear on a blushing bride, but the girl had gone too far. "Heather, you should be smart about things and plan a wedding in direct proportion to how long the marriage will last. I give it just a few months, a year at best, so you should really consider one of those late-night Vegas chapels with the Elvis impersonators."
Heather drew in a shocked breath, then recovered to snipe, "Is that what you did when you married that rich man who escaped from the nursing home?"
"Walter might've been old and disgusting, but at least he wasn't gay! Darling, you've been watching too much Will and Grace ."
"Kippy is not gay!" Heather shrieked. But it was obvious that this outraged defense had scratched her throat more than once.
Kiki gave a tinkling little laugh. "Kippy is prettier than you are and manages an Ann Taylor store. Do the math, sweetheart. One plus one equals queen of denial ." And then she hung up, obliterating Heather Vandercamp from her life.
The moment Kiki rose up, her eyes fell on the New York Post hanging halfway off the nightstand. Damn the Internet. There was no such thing as local news anymore.
Quite suddenly, she felt like a caged animal, locked up in this tiny suite, waiting zombie-like for something interesting to happena phone call, a meal, another visit from Fab.
Of course, this couldn't go on much longerthe whole hibernation bit. Today's news was mainly a rehash of the day before yesterday's news. And as for yesterday, nothing really happened. Okay, so they booted her out of Stella McCartney. It's been covered. Ancient history. No way this nonsense could last another news cycle.
Kiki swiped on some lip gloss and dressed quickly. It wouldn't be wise to leave the hotel, but she could camp out in the lobby for a refreshing change of pace. Besides, Fab might wander by. And that alone was reason enough for a location switcheroo.
The elevator creaked down to the first floor.
Kiki stepped out to an ugly scene between Fab and a gorgeous younger woman. Luckily, he hadn't seen her. She scooted off to the side to keep it that way. With interest that stretched on to infinity, she sized up the situation.
The Girl: Twenty-one years old, tops. And that would be ancient, too. Probably younger. Hopefully , old enough to vote. She had the same exotic features as Fabthe dark hair, the dark eyes, the insanely effortless beauty. Somehow she'd managed to squeeze into a tight little baby tee with I'm bored with you emblazoned across her chest. The shirt came up short above a skirt that should've been a belt, exposing enough bare belly to prove the bitch could drop and give you five hundred crunches and never stop smiling. Definitely Miss Universe-worthyby way of a vice rap for prostitution, of course. In those nosebleed high heels, the only thing missing from her hooker act was the lamppost prop. How could a woman walk around dressed like that? It was disgusting.
The Boy: Her boy. At least a short time ago he was, all wet and steamy in the shower. Now he was red faced, agitated, and front and center with a tramp who made the back alley girls rounded up in the vice squad paddy wagon look like a cotillion raid.
If feelings matched skin tone, then right now Kiki would be a raging jungle green. But this time it had nothing to do with Fango mud and everything to do with jealousy.
"You're not staying in this hotel," Fab was saying. He beamed a look to kill over the girl's shoulder at a smug, smirking party-boy type lurking several steps behind.
Kiki recognized him. It was Zac Toledo, basically the male version of Paris Hilton without the trust fund. The columns tracked his moves. And they were easy to track because they didn't change up very often. He club-hopped, he danced, he slept around.
"We were here last night," the girl hissed. "The bed's already been broken in, so what does it matter?" She challenged him with wild, angry eyes.
Fab's face became a kaleidoscope of feelings revealed: hurt, anger, guilt, regret, disappointment. The whole gamut.
"Don't worry," the girl went on bitterly. "I'm sure Zac didn't do anything to me that you didn't do to my classmate, Tiffany Lynn." She grinned, because she knew that her verbal cruise missile had hit its target. And blown him to smithereens.
Fab conflicted metamorphosed into Fab devastated.
That's when Kiki knew for certain. That's when her heart started to break, too. Because he was as easy to read as a child's big-letter storybook.
Fab loved this girl.
* * *
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Cinderella's Castle!
Breckin!
I'm SO over the winter wedding idea. That can be SUCH a dreary time. I mean, the weather is totally unpredictable, some people go through holiday depression, and let's face it, there is no busier time than the Christmas season. Who has time for a wedding? Guess what I'm thinking? You never will. Disney World! Oh, my God! It could be so fabulous. Julia can get married in Cinderella's Castle, and Roman can be her prince. Okay, I'm s
wooning just thinking about it. Find out more on Disney World. It's not just for kids anymore. Haven't you seen the commercials?
Air Kisses, Kiki
* * *
Chapter Twelve
The cackle came courtesy of Zac Toledo, a postcard-perfect image of LA cool in his distressed/paint-splashed Grail polo and destroyed-wash Chip & Pepper jeans.
Fab lunged toward him, like a lion pumped up for a fresh kill. "Hey, buddyyou might want to wait outside."
Zac disregarded the suggestion in that infuriating way that only twenty-year-old boys who think they're God's gift can.
The girl pressed her hands against Fab's chest in a begging attempt to stop him from removing Zac by force. "Screw Affair!" she shrieked. "We don't have to stay here! I don't even want to stay here anymore! There are a thousand hotels in this city! Every last one of them better than this hellhole!"
"Serafina!" Fab yelled back. "What are you doing? This guy's a jerk, and he's just using you."
"Well, if anyone should know about a guy using girls, then it would be you," she fired right back.
"This isn't about me," Fab said.
"Exactly," Serafina snapped triumphantly. "It's about me . Which means it's none of your business."
"You're my sister," Fab said quietly, his voice close to being sinister. "It will always be my business."
The floodgates of relief opened up, and Kiki got washed away by the most wonderful feeling in the world. Not his lover , but his sister! Oh, thank God! For a minute there
Kiki swept into the Tomba sibling dustup like a fairy godmother, giving Fab a secret look that translated Let me handle this . She smiled at the girl, who, up close, was practically Fab in glorious female form. "Serafinawhat a lovely name. For an equally lovely girl." She put out a hand.
Serafina warily accepted it. "Who are you?"
Kiki glanced around. There were guests lurking about, taking in the family drama as if it were a new reality show. Hmm. Never can be too careful. "I'm Jennifer Aniston."
Serafina pulled a face. "No, you're not."
"Yes, I am, dear. Check the register if you must."
"You're that skank from the Post ."
Kiki hooked an arm around Serafina's shoulder, dug her nails into her flesh just enough to let the girl know that skank was not appreciated, and gently led her away from Fab. "That's all a terrible misunder standing. Sort of like that skirt you're wearing. Of course, you didn't mean to put it on and walk out the door looking like you'd do anything for fifty dollars and a dime bag of pot."
Serafina stopped in her tracks. "Excuse me, but I don't even know you. So why are you in my face?"
Kiki simply gave her an empathetic smile. "I, too, have a brother."
Serafina thawed slightly. "Is he overprotective? Does he basically track your every move like some stalker? Does he think every guy you've ever dated is an asshole?"
"Not so much," Kiki answered. "He's younger, and we don't even live in the same region."
Serafina gave her a dumb look. "So what's your point?"
"My point is this brothers have a finely tuned radar for creepy guys. It's not any guy that he wants to keep you away from. Just the bad ones. Think about it. If you were with a quality, stand-up guy, then Fab would feel relieved . Not only would you be with someone fantastic who'd look out for you, but you'd be off the market for the Zac Toledos of the world."
The look on Serafina's face said she was listening. Sort of. "How do you know Zac?"
"Oh, honey," Kiki said, laughing the laugh of the weary. "Zac is not a person. He's a type. Trust me. I know all about the Zac brand of boy." She snapped her fingers in a homegirl Z-snap formation. "Been there. Done that. Got the soundtrack." Then she leaned in conspiratorially. "Explain this to me. What guy with half a brain in his head would bring a girl to her own brother's hotel? Okay, it'd be one thing if Fab owned the Waldorf. You know, a place so big that you could easily keep missing each other. But Affair?" Kiki shook her head in disbelief. "Please. This hotel is so small that Fab probably knew what you were up to before you even got out of the cab! Was it Zac's idea to come here?"
Serafina nodded.
"Figures," Kiki sniffed. "He probably thought you could get a free room."
Serafina shot a cool glance over to Zac, ignoring Fab entirely. "Guys can be so lame."
"Yes, they can. If we had more timesay, the rest of the afternoonI'd tell you about my ex-husband, the two guys who sank my trust fund, the pervert who thought I was clueless about the hidden camera in his bedroom or we could just sit quietly and discuss Ben Affleck."
This got a laugh. A real one. "Did you date him, too?"
"No, but sometimes a girl just has a feeling."
Serafina beamed a glare at Fab. "He treats me like I'm still in eighth grade."
"Just think about what I said," Kiki advised. "If you were with a decent guy, you wouldn't be getting any static from big brother over there."
Another look to Zac. This time Serafina melted a little. "Zac is cool, though. The columns mention him all the time. And he's so cute."
"He is now," Kiki agreed. "I'll give you that. But wait until the heroin addiction sets in. We'll be having a different conversation one year from now." She paused a beat to allow this jaw-dropper to sink in, then moved on. "So you have classes with Tiffany Lynn? She's a friend of mine."
"Really? Are you a stripper, too?"
It was all coming back to Kiki nowhow annoying younger siblings could be. "No, I'm an actress."
"Do you play strippers?"
"I haven't yet, but I'm not opposed to the idea," Kiki replied sunnily. "Especially now when I really need the work."
Serafina smiled shrewdly. "Do you subscribe to the way-to-a-man's-heart-is-through-his-family theory? Is that the reason for this big-sister act?"
"First of all, it's 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.' And I can't cook. So there goes that. But believe me. Fab's not the motivation here. When I see a beautiful young girl with bad taste in guys walking around poorly dressed, it's my duty to get involved. I was runner-up for Miss America in 1995."
"I was only eight that year, but I remember watching." Serafina's eyes went wide. "Wait a minute. Are you the one who did the dramatic monologue from St. Elmo's Fire ?"
Kiki gave her an upbeat nod. Finally! A viewer who remembered something besides Miss California.
"News flash: It's really better to sing," Serafina said.
Kiki blanched. This girl did not need bitch training wheels. She was definitely ready for prime time.
"I think I'll go upstairs and pack now. Obviously , Zac and I are changing hotels."
"So after all of this spectacle and drama you're going to stay with that night creature?" Kiki asked.
" If I decide to kick Zac to the curb, I'm not going to give my brother the satisfaction of thinking he had anything to do with it." Serafina punctuated the grand announcement with a bounce of her hair. She started off, then swung back around. "Mind if I give you some advice on the subject of men? As it relates to my brother, of course."
Kiki saw a gleam of something in Serafina's dark eyes. And it wasn't kindness. She steeled herself as she nodded.
"Don't get too comfortable in the role of girlfriend. Or whatever it is you are to him. Fab tends to bore easily. And I don't think a runner-up has what it takes to hold his attention for very long."
"Don't count on it," Kiki shot back. No way was this little strumpet going to get the best of her. "Chances are, when you're crying on Fab's shoulder after Zac dumps you , I'll be the one handing you tissues."
Serafina's Tomba-perfect lips parted in surprise. The look on her face said the last word was always hers. Now the qualifier almost always had to be employed. She stomped away in a huff.
Kiki made a beeline for the front desk to join Fab.
"Thanks for stepping in," he said, drinking deep on a Red Bull. "I was about to kill her. Or him. Maybe both of them." His neck was pulsing with aggression.
Kiki questioned the lightning jolt of Red Bull at a time like this but said nothing. "She's at that age where you can't tell a girl anything ."
"Serafina's always been at that age."
"Zac's nothing but a phase," Kiki said. "But the more you object the more attractive he'll seem to her."
Fab shot up his brow. "Then maybe I should go tell her I'd like him to be my brother-in-law."
Skillfully, Kiki robbed the Red Bull and finished it off. He didn't need anymore. She did. "Now there's a plan."
Fab gave her a meaningful look. "The day started off much better than it's become."
"And you're surprised?" Kiki asked silkily. "Our shower scene is going to be pretty hard to top."
"Is that a challenge?"
Kiki threw down the gauntlet. "That depends. Are you up for it?"
He smiled at her, took back the Red Bull can, realized it was empty, and crushed it into his palm. "Oh, don't worry. I'll rise to the occasion." And with that he took her hand, leading her toward the stairwell, and, ultimately, directly into it. He was silent the whole way. Until the door closed.
"I'm getting addicted to you," Fab said.
Kiki felt it. The vivid brightness of the crucial moment. The rush of the push forward. The tempering that comes from not holding back.
Hungrily, Fab pressed his mouth to hers.
She breathed to the rhythm, and his deep know-ingness of the beat made the most delicious music as the heat and wetness of her tongue melted into his.
Suddenlyand painfully for herhe pulled back, outlining her mouth with the cool satin of his fingertip. "I'm not getting any work done. I might have to evict you."
Kiki pretended to be hurt. She did her best breathy bombshell voice. "Me? I'm just a girl who expects good service when I stay at a hotel. That's all." Somewhere in heaven, Monroe was smiling down.