We have the same intrigues
As a court of kings

A restraining order was all very well and good, but the newspeople staking out Team Steel's residence were professionals. They were prohibited from going within two hundred feet of the property, so they just retreated to two hundred and one feet and resumed their activities. The private N-Tek security guards strolling around made no impression other than defining the boundaries. The reporters, representing a broad array of print and televised services, spilled over into the streets and neighbors' yards, some of who were quite happy to host national crews.

And there were only so many ways to get into the neighborhood by car.

"Mob" didn't quite capture what happened when Josh and Kat returned, but it was close.

Kat waved cheerfully to all of the cameras, and the flashbulbs nearly blinded Josh, who was having enough trouble getting through the mass of people without hitting anyone - although he was sorely tempted to do just that. Many times.

"Traitor," Josh muttered in her general direction.

"Hey, it's my adoring public. I'm supposed to make them happy." She had the princess wave down pat, he had to admit.

His sarcastic retort died unspoken when he was forced to slam on the brakes to avoid flattening a guy with a microphone - a guy he recognized, as a matter of fact.

"Orrin," he said, surprised and a little disappointed and fairly sorry he had a convertible. "Don't tell me you've joined the paparazzi."

Orrin Carter, a veteran LiveSport correspondent, and who'd been covering Josh's career almost from the beginning, flashed a rueful smile. "Just going where the network sends me. So what's the inside scoop?"

In the time it took Josh to form a response, one of the other reporters yelled out, "Ryan! Who does your hair?" Kat waved. Flashbulbs popped.

"I can neither confirm nor deny anything," Josh said. The reporters were edging a bit too close; his foot twitched on the accelerator. His instincts, trained into a spy's paranoia, were insisting that he get away from the crowd NOW, but he didn't want to be rude to Orrin. Orrin was a nice enough guy, job aside.

"Come on, Josh," Orrin said. "One soundbite and I'm happy."

He launched into his line again. "I can neither-"

But the rest of it was lost when Kat suddenly invaded his side of the car, grabbed his face in one hand, and kissed him soundly. On the mouth. For a split second, before his brain caught up with his body, he kissed her back.

The reporters exploded into a full-out frenzy.

With something approaching panic, Josh pushed Kat away, floored it, and didn't care that he sent a bunch of people scrambling to get out of the car's path.

He parked the car behind the van and jumped out, barely remembering to get the keys out before walking to the door as fast as he could without looking stupid - although it was really too late for that. At the door, he stopped and waited for Kat, also because he didn't want to look stupid, and
then he slammed it behind her.

Berto was standing in the front hall. "What was that about?"

Kat collapsed against the wall next to the door, laughing hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Josh felt like throwing her back out into the evil public eye. "She kissed me." To Kat, he demanded, "Are you crazy?"

She just laughed even harder. "Did you see their faces?"

"I don't believe it. You are nuts," he said, gaping at her. "Why are you treating this like some kind of joke?"

She straightened and closed the distance between them, shaking her head, still half-laughing. "Let me see if I can break it down for you. A month ago, I did something that no one else but Tony Hawk has ever done - ever! - and I just busted up a bank robbery, and they'd rather talk about who my boyfriend is and where I get my hair done."

Her tone was hardening fast, and all trace of humor was gone from her face. "You get to be a hero, but I get to be an object. So yeah, I am treating this like a joke, because if I didn't, all those people out there and some of the ones in here would be suing for assault and battery!"

She emphasized the last part by shoving him, hard, towards the wall, and then stormed off to the rear of the house. A door slammed.

A great and nameless feeling of frustration, anger, and a dozen other emotions rose up in Josh's chest. He kicked at the couch, just because he needed to do some kind of violence, and dropped himself onto it. "Great, I can't even keep my fake relationships from falling apart!"

Berto coughed. "Uh... while you were out, you got some phone calls."

Josh leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. If only the media knew how far off they were. Dating Kat? He wanted to kill her. Or maybe just himself, for making the bet that started the whole thing. "Let's hear 'em."

"Jo called. She wants to know if she can be a flower girl at the wedding."

"No, but she can hold a wreath at the funeral."

"Yours or Kat's?"

"Haven't decided. What else?"

"Pete called. He wants to know if he can start giving interviews."

Josh hadn't heard from Pete in months. Calls to the Costa residence had resulted in answering machine messages that no one ever returned. But throw fifteen seconds of stolen fame into the ring, and Pete was his best friend again. "Figures."

"He promises not to mention Max," Berto added.

"Okay, that just sealed it. No, and get Dad to slap a restraining order on him."

"Harsh. But understandable."

"That's what I was going for." He raised his voice to a shout. "Kat, I'm sorry!"

"I don't care!" she shouted back. Another door slammed and ruined his theory that apologizing, regardless of whose fault it actually was, would get him out of trouble with people of the opposite gender.

"Looks like the honeymoon's over," Berto said, having entirely too much fun.

Josh blindly threw a pillow at him. "Go join the vultures outside."

"Hey, this could be worse."

Josh opened his eyes long enough to give Berto an utterly incredulous look.

"Well - you could be romantically linked to someone else."

"Like who?"

"Like... Dread."

It took Josh a moment to find the words: "That's sick."

Berto sat back with a smug look. "See? There's your silver lining."

"Gee, thanks, Pollyanna."

There was a small stretch of silence, and then Berto asked, "You know that kiss is going to be all over the world by lunchtime, right?"

Josh wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find that this was all a hideous nightmare, possibly brought on by too much pizza with jalapenos. Instead he sighed and said, "Give me Psycho any day."

Kat shouted, "You deserve him!"

"I've decided," Josh told Berto. "Kat's funeral."