Free First Kiss by Kylie Adams Page B

I go? Let's be honest. I'm almost thirty, and it's not like anybody's tapping me on the shoulder to say, 'Damn, girl, ain't you Heidi Klum?' At the end of the day, I feel lucky to be with PLK Management."
    "I hate to hear you talk this way."
    "Kiki, please. I don't have an inferiority complex. I'm only being realistic. I've accepted the fact that I'm a third-tier model, but I just want some decent assignments."
    Kiki considered the situation. "Maybe you should try commercials. I know a girl who made ten thousand dollars from a Dr Pepper ad. And all she did was hold on to a cute guy while he drove a Jet Ski."
    "It sounds like a good idea, but PLK only books for print work."
    "So? You're in New York. There are hundreds of agencies. Wait a minute. That reminds me! I met this guy once in the recovery room at Bliss Spa. His name's Doug something. Gay, fabulous, flaivless skin. Anyway, he runs an agency for Broadway talent. All commercials. I mean, the theater doesn't pay anything. Those people have to supplement income. He even books for overseas work. Wouldn't it be great to fly to Japan for a commercial job? It'd be just like that movie with Bill Murray, Lost in Translation . I just know that Doug would die to sign you."
    "You really think so?" Suzi-Suzi wondered aloud, her voice rattling with self-doubt. "I've never been in a Broadway show. I don't even go to them. Except for Mamma Mia ! I've seen that twice. I love ABBA. Does that count?"
    "Sure!" Kiki sang, doing her best to rev up Suzi-Suzi's confidence. "At the end of the show, every-body gets up to dance in the aisles during 'Dancing Queen.' By that measure, you're practically in the show. Put it down on your resume'starred in Mamma Mia !' Nobody will ever know."
    "That is so brilliant!" Suzi-Suzi said. "And so true, too. I mean, last time I was totally rocking out in the lower orchestra. In fact, one of the chorus boys pointed at me and gave me this big smile."
    "See. It's not a lie. Maybe a slight exaggeration. But nothing more than that."
    "So how do I get in touch with this Doug person?"
    "Oh, God, I have no idea. I can't remember his last name or the name of his agency."
    "KM!"
    "Calm down. I know a girl at Bliss. He's a regular there. She'll know who I'm talking about and give me all the contact info."
    "I feel so much better about things now. It's like I suddenly have a new career or something."
    Kiki nestled back against the pillows, feeling quite pleased with herself. Basically, she'd just rescued Suzi-Suzi from a near breakdown. This would make another great chapter for the book. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Kiki heard the distinctive break of someone else's call-waiting.
    "OohChad's beeping in. I better go. He gets mad when the phone rings into voice mail. Call me later." And then the line went dead.
    For several long introspective moments, Kiki just lay there, wondering what to do next. Glancing over to the nightstand, she noticed Fab's business card. It practically glowed radioactive. She reached out for it, fingering the raised lettering and embossed graphics. Then she flipped it over to see his cell number scrawled on the back.
    The mere thought of him made her body itch, the so-vivid memory of Fab's impossible attractiveness crawling all over her like a hot rash. God, he really was extraordinary. Everything about himhis proud aquiline nose, his sensuously deliberate mouth, his strong, square jaw. And even covered up in his regulation Armani, Kiki knew that the body was the stuff of punishing five a.m. workouts. She could tell by his broad shoulders, the triangular shape of his chest, the discipline of his trim waistline, and his shapely butt that deserved its own cable channel.
    Kiki had to wonder, though, about the character of a man who lived such a charmed existence. The success was on the cover of Fast Company . The looks were instant legend. The media was covering his every move. The women were falling at his feet. Certainly he