Scandal Sheet aka Hollywood Scandals

“Wait,” Cal interrupted again. “Didn’t he say you were crucifying him?”

“Yeah, and I’m a member of the media.”

He shook his head. “You have a way with words.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not sure that was a compliment,” Allie pointed out.

“Quiet. I can’t concentrate with all this talking.”

PINES IS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR IN COURT FOR A PRELIMINARY HEARING THIS AFTERNOON ON CHARGES OF POSSESSING CHILD PORNOGRAPHY. ALL PINES HAD TO SAY? “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”

“Pines said the magazines were an accident?” Allie asked.

“Well, not exactly. But, he did say those words during our interview.” I didn’t mention that they were in reference to Mullins’s overdose.

“They’re out of context? That’s so unethical.”

“That’s how we do it at the Informer.”

Cal shook his head, mumbling something about journalistic integrity. Allie just stared at the screen, her nose permanently crinkled.

“When did you get this interview?” she asked.

“Today.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Felix said we were supposed to work together on this story. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“And if I hadn’t wandered over here? Whose name would have been on the byline?”

“Both of ours?” I said. Though it came out more like a question. One that did nothing to convince Allie of my honorable intentions.

Probably because I didn’t have any.

She stuck her hands on her round hips and narrowed her big blue eyes at me.

“Look, I know you don’t like me very much.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

“Spare me,” she said, plowing ahead. “I’m not stupid. I can feel you shooting daggers at me from across the room.”

I shut my mouth. What can I say? Subtlety was not one of my finer points.

“That’s fine,” she went on. “I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to make news. Pines is big news, and you’re not blowing this story for me. Not by printing half-truths and quotes that may or may not be taken completely out of context. From now on, I want to hear the context myself. I’m going with you next time you talk to Pines.”

“Like hell you are.”

She thrust her chest out toward me in a combative stance. “Oh, I am. Or I’m going to Felix.”

I ground my teeth together. While being shadowed by Barbie sounded about as pleasant as a root canal, I knew she had me. I was on shaky ground with the boss as it was. Any shakier, and I just might find myself replaced entirely by Miss Jugs.

“Fine,” I finally spat out. “Two o’clock. Before the trial. I’m meeting Pines at the courthouse.”

Her perfect ocean blue eyes lit up, and she smiled so wide I could see all five hundred of her bleached white teeth. “Great, see you then. Partner,” she added with a wink.

It was official. I hated blondes.

By the time I emailed our story on Pines to Felix, hopped in Cal’s Hummer, and braved the L.A. traffic home, it was late, I was beat, and nothing sounded sweeter than a long, hot meal followed by a long, cool swim.

“You coming in again?” I asked Cal as he pulled the Hummer down Oasis Terrace.

He shrugged. “You need me to?”

Yes.

“No.”

Okay, did I need him? No. Had I enjoyed having someone in the house last night who carried a big scary gun? Yeah. A lot more than I wanted to admit.

“I’ll hang here for a little while, then,” he said, adjusting his seat back and flipping the radio on.

“Suit yourself,” I replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “But,” I added, “no binoculars this time.”

He grinned. Then leaned his head back and slipped on his shades.

I left him at the curb and made my way up the walkway. Unfortunately, as I walked into the house, I quickly realized that whole hot meal thing was a pipe dream.

“What’s that smell?” I asked, wrinkling my nose as I followed the offending odor to the kitchen. On the stove a muddy brown mixture bubbled to a boil in a large pot.

“Your Aunt Sue made goulash,” Aunt Millie proclaimed, shuffling into the kitchen, Aunt Sue a step behind. Millie squinted down into the pot behind her monstrous glasses. “It looks delicious to me.”

That wasn’t saying much.

I got closer to the pot and sniffed. “What did you put in it?”

“All the usual stuff,” Aunt Sue answered. “Onions, potatoes, paprika.”

That didn’t sound so bad.

“Oh, but we were out of beef, so I dumped a can of Spam in instead.”

I felt a gag reflex kick up in the back of my throat.

“Actually, I’m really not that hungry tonight. I think I might just go for a swim.”

“You’re too skinny. You need to eat,” Millie protested.

I looked down at her shrunken form. “I’ll eat later,” I promised.

“Suit yourself,” Aunt Sue replied. “Millie and I are going down to the community room. They got bingo tonight.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” The idea of the hear-no-good, see-no-good twins gambling didn’t strike me as stellar.

But she waved me off. “Don’t worry, I only got ten bucks in my pocket. The way I play, I’ll be home by the time Jeopardy! comes on.”

“Have a ball,” I said.

“What?”

“Have a ball!”

“Well, sure you can go to the mall! Honey, you’re an adult, you don’t need to ask my permission anymore.” She kissed me on both cheeks.

Swell.

I saw them out the door, then slipped into my bedroom. It was still in a state of mild disarray from the night before, piles of clothes off their hangers, two slashed pillows facedown in the corner, the top of my dresser littered with the entire contents of my desk. I ignored it all, the sight just adding more tension to my already overtaxed shoulders. Instead, I waded through the chaos to my dresser, threw open the top drawer and, after digging only a few minutes, found my pink, polka-dotted bikini. I threw it on, added a pair of cutoff shorts, flip-flops and a towel and headed out, locking the front door behind me.

I slipped out the back, not wanting another confrontation with Cal, and headed toward the pool.

The Palm Grove complex consisted of thirty-three units, set in a series of connecting lanes that made a circular pattern. In the middle was a community center where senior yoga was taught in the mornings, watercolors in the afternoons, and movie nights and bingo in the evenings. Next to the center was the swimming pool that was largely occupied by aqua aerobics by day, but once the sun went down and the temperature dipped below eighty, was virtually abandoned. Like now.

I stepped out of my flip-flops, tossed my towel on a folding chaise, and ditched my shorts. I dipped one toe into the shallow end, testing the water. Crisp, cool. Perfect.

I walked around to the twelve-footer mark, raised my arms up, and dove in headfirst. The cool water washed over me, blocking out all sight, sound, and feeling but the energizing water. It was total sensory deprivation, and I loved it.