Scandal Sheet aka Hollywood Scandals

I smirked. “I don’t actually ask.”

“But you have to disclose that you’re recording, right? Otherwise, well, that would be unethical, wouldn’t it?”

I shook my head. “Wow, do you have a lot to learn about working at a tabloid.”

When we got back to the Informer with our mega story, I stopped at Max’s desk first thing. “Hey,” I said, leaning over the fabric partition.

Max looked up, the droopy bags under his eyes a testament to his night with Jim Beam. “Hey, Bender. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d do me a favor. I’d like to see an obit for her.” I handed him a slip of paper with Hattie Carmichael’s name on it. “Think you can dig up some stats?”

Max took it, frowning at the name.

“Who was she?”

“No one famous,” I told him. But before he could protest, I added, “But she was a friend. It would mean a lot.”

Max nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.

I thanked him, glad I could do something for Mrs. Carmichael. I know, it wasn’t much. But at least it was something.

One time when I was sixteen, I was visiting Aunt Sue’s house in Long Beach and she’d let me take her station wagon out to a party. I’d had a little too much to drink and, instead of driving it home, I’d parked it overnight at the beach and took a cab. I’d had two parking tickets by the time I went to retrieve it the next day. Or, more accurately, Aunt Sue had two tickets. On her perfect, never even a speeding ticket or fender bender DMV record. I’d worked the rest of the summer at Togo’s to pay off the fines, but I still felt incredibly guilty about blemishing the perfect record she’d been so proud of.

Let me tell you, that guilt was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. This was guilt supersized. And it was a bitch.

I plunked down into my chair, cueing up my computer screen to type up my Pines interview. I was halfway through when an IM window popped up.

I missed you last night.

Man in Black. Shit. I’d completely forgotten about him last night. Again. Though, in my defense, a dead body was a pretty good excuse.

Sorry. Long night.

Hot date?

No!

Though even as I typed it, I remembered just how close Cal’s lips had been to mine and how hot things might have gotten had circumstances not intervened.

Good, Black typed. I’m not a guy who likes to share.

I grinned. Sorry. I know that’s two nights in a row I’ve stood you up.

If I wasn’t such a stud, I might start to worry. Then, Tell me about your long night.

I paused. Usually, I told Black everything. But he was likely to run for the hills the second I started talking about dead bodies.

I don’t even know where to begin, I typed.

You okay?

I nodded at my empty cubicle. Yeah. And I guess I was. Surprisingly. I thought back to last night and how much I’d leaned on Cal to get me through. I’d leaned so hard, my IM date with Black had been the last thing on my mind. I felt a little twinge of something. My good friend guilt again? Which was ridiculous because Black was a fantasy and Cal was a rent-a-goon. In reality nothing was going on with either of these guys.

I’ve missed you, Black typed.

I bit my lip. Nothing. Right. Then why was my chest suddenly clenching as I stared at those three little words on my monitor?

I typed back a simple, Me too.

I’m not making a date for tonight, because I hate being stood up. But type at me when you can.

I will, I promised, meaning it. Okay, so maybe he was just a fantasy, but Black was the one person who really got me. He always knew just the right thing to say-or type-to make me feel better. Let’s face it, my internet crush knew me better than anyone.

Jesus, I needed to get a life.

Chapter Thirteen

I was just finishing up my story when my cell rang from Strawberry Shortcake. I pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID. Marco.

“What’s shaking?” I asked.

“Dahling, did I come through for you, or did I come through for you!”

“You got Jennifer Wood’s alibi?” I asked.

“I did.”

I grabbed a pen. “Shoot.”

“Well,” Marco started, and I could tell he was going to give me the long version. “I met up with my friend’s friend’s boyfriend at a party in the Hills last night, and he said that he did, in fact, see Jennifer at Ashlee’s housewarming.”

I felt my heart sink. One by one my suspects were falling. I could feel myself slowly being dragged back to square one again. “Did he see what time she got there?” I asked.

“No. But he said he was there at eleven, and she was already drinking appletinis with a Jonas brother.”

“How long was she there?” I asked.

“She did a table dance in Ashlee’s dining room at two.”

Shit. “Did she leave the party at any time?” I was so grasping here.

“Sorry, dahling, no idea. Ricky didn’t keep that close tabs on her, ya know.”

“Right. Thanks anyway.” So, Jennifer had been telling the truth. Granted, there was a slight chance she could have snuck out of the party, booted up her computer, used the Audio Cloak software to disguise her voice and play it back into a phone to leave me a threatening message before slipping back into the party. But, considering the phone was on the Sunset Studios lot, that chance was very slight.

“Hey, before you hang up-whose party were you at last night?” I couldn’t help the gossip hound in me from asking.

“Oh, honey, it was to die for! A birthday party for that kid who plays the brother on that medical drama. He turned twenty-one, and man, does that boy know how to throw down.”

“Sounds fun.” I tried to remember the last time I’d gotten an invitation to a birthday party. I think it was Aunt Millie’s. And we’d all had pudding cups instead of cake ‘cause she’d cracked her dentures.

“Oh, it was, doll. Everyone was there. The Kardashian girls, Jessie Simpson, Katie Briggs.”

That’s it, my social life officially sucked. “Anyone get drunk? Make out? Cat fights?” I asked, mentally preparing tomorrow’s column.

“Well…Kim K. and Jessie showed up in the same dress, and of course Jess looked better in it, so that almost turned into a wrestling match. But luckily that guy who does the Mac commercials was there to break it up. Oh, and Katie, she totally lost her iPhone in the pool when one of the Playboy bunnies bumped into her. She was pretty pissed about that. Apparently those suckers sink.”

“Wait,” I said, my mental hamster stopping in his tracks. “Did you say Katie Briggs has an iPhone?”

“Well, she did. It’s toast now.”