Read First Kiss for Free Online Page B

old saying? Oh, yeah. There's no such thing as bad publicity," Suzi-Suzi put in.
    "Everybody's going to know that I'm really thirty-four," Kiki whined.
    "What? That's crazy. They didn't say anything about your age," Suzi-Suzi said. One beat. "Oh, you're right. There it is. Well, don't worry. At least it's buried in the article. Hardly anybody will notice. Most people just look at the pictures. I only read the whole thing because you're my best friend."
    "Nobody is going to pay attention to this," Danni went on. "There's nothing to this story. It must be a really slow news day."
    Kiki gasped. "Are you saying that I'm not a worth-while scandal queen?" Almost worse than the public humiliation would be the prospect of boring the public. After all, at the end of the day, Kiki considered herself an entertainer.
    "No!" Danni and Suzi-Suzi exclaimed in perfect unison.
    "You're a great scandal queen," Suzi-Suzi assured her. "Way better than, say, Amber Frey. I mean, has she ever heard of Google? That's how I found out Chad was married. I just Googled him. Come on. You don't have to be Nancy Drew."
    "What we mean," Danni added, "is that there's no meat on this bone. It's an innocent situation completely blown out of proportion. If it lasts longer than this morning's news cycle, then I'll choreograph a dance to 'Two of Hearts' by Stacey Q. And you know how much I hate that song."
    Suzi-Suzi started singing, " 'Two of hearts two hearts that beat as one.'" Then she sighed. "I used to love that song! Whatever happened to her?"
    "Girls!" Kiki scolded them. "Would you shut up about Stacey Q already? I'm the one with the problem. Focus!"
    "Sorry," Suzi-Suzi murmured. "Do you want us to come over?"
    Kiki thought about it. "No, I'm fine." Her stomach did a low rumble. "God, I'm starving. Do you realize that I haven't eaten a thing since lunch yesterday?
    And there's not a speck of food in this apartment. I think there might be a jar of jam in the fridge, but I have no idea how old it is."
    "So go to the market," Danni suggested. "That will help take your mind off things."
    Kiki sighed miserably. "Ugh. That's too much trouble. I'd have to go there, pick everything out, haul everything back I'm exhausted just thinking about it. I'll just pop in somewhere for an egg white omelet." She said her goodbyes, signed off, tossed on a Krista Allen SexBrand tee emblazoned with the phrase you were never my boyfriend, squeezed into distressed denim cutoffs, slipped on the nearest available pair of Manolo Blahniks, and hit the door.
    "There she is!"
    Kiki heard this the moment her expensive shoe hit the sidewalk. She glanced up to see a gaggle of photographers positioned in front of her building. Right away she regretted not putting any makeup on. God! All she wanted was an omelet! Hmm. Note to self: Maybe you don't want to be as famous as Jennifer Aniston. But you do want her hair.
    "Are you in love with Tom Brock?" The question came from a sweaty man with bad acne.
    Kiki ignored him and started down the sidewalk. Honestly! The idiot needed a lesson in priorities. Shouldn't he be more concerned with ordering a trial package of Proactiv Solution?
    "Why are you going after a married man with a young family?" It was a female voice this time. Probably the butch-looking girl with sideburns growing down her face.
    Kiki walked on imperviously, never once looking back, doing her best to pick up the pace without coming off as frantic.
    "How much did the plastic surgeon charge for those tits?"
    Kiki stopped cold, spinning angrily to see a short, balding Danny DeVito look-alike smirking at her as he snapped off several shots. She stood there in a state of horrified silence, wondering how these vultures found out about her boob job. She had them done in Brazil. And everybody had always assumed they were real. Even her last boyfriend, Mike Jovie, a real estate developer and self-proclaimed connoisseur of breasts, was completely fooled by the teardrop implants. Ugh! Her