on the cheap renter’s doorknob. The force knocked it sideways.
I heard shouting from the other side of the door. Cal’s voice outside, Alexis screaming back, “Leave me alone! I’m a celebrity!”
I lifted the award for another go, slamming it down on the dented knob, knocking the brass thing to the ground with a clang. The lock fell away on the other side, and I easily pushed the door open, still brandishing the Golden Globe as a weapon.
“Freeze!” I yelled, suddenly feeling very
Though it turned out Alexis didn’t have much choice. She had the screen off her bedroom window, one leg thrown over the sill, her pleather skirt around her waist, and her fishnets caught on the latch, capturing her halfway between Cal and me.
She was totally stuck.
And crying, “I want a lawyer. Get me Robert Shapiro. Get me Paris Hilton’s lawyer. I’m too famous to go to jail!”
Chapter Seventeen
Three cups of coffee, two statements to the cops and four hours later, we were finally released from the police station for the second time that day. I swear the detective in charge was starting to look at me funny. Like I had some golden touch or something, but in reverse; whatever I touched eventually ended up in a homicide.
By the time we pulled Cal’s Hummer back onto the freeway, it was five thirty. Prime traffic time. And I only had half an hour to get my threatening column into the printer behind Felix’s back.
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” I asked as we crawled up the 101.
Cal shrugged. “Sure. I’ll drive on over the top of these other cars. I’m sure they won’t mind.”
Smart-ass.
I pursed my lips together. “Well then, maybe we should take surface streets, huh?”
He shot me a look. “What’s the hurry, Bender?”
“Nothing. No hurry. I just…want to get back to work.” I turned my face to the window so he couldn’t read the obvious lie in that statement. If Cal had even a whiff of my plan, there was no way he’d let me follow through with it. Not that I’d normally
So, even though I felt as antsy as a six-year-old on a double espresso as we inched forward, watching the minutes tick off on the dash clock, I kept my mouth shut. Trying not to do a little impatience dance in my seat.
At five forty-eight, the traffic miraculously parted as we neared Hollywood and exited the freeway. I held my breath as we hit two red lights in a row, losing precious seconds, then, of all the luck, got stuck behind a Beemer double parked outside a nail salon.
“I hope you get toe fungus!” I yelled out the window as we finally slipped into the left lane and passed.
Cal raised an eyebrow my way. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “What? Double parking is very rude. Oh, there! Right in front!” I pointed to the left as a cab pulled away from the curb, leaving an open space right in front of the
Giving up on the ancient elevator, I took the stairs, jogging up two at a time until I reached the second-floor landing, panting and holding my side. I looked up at the clock over Cece’s desk. Five fifty-six.
“Jesus, Bender, where have you been?” Allie slipped behind me, whisper-yelling in my ear. “I thought you said six o’clock?”
“I [pant] did [pant].” I sucked in a big gulp of air, shooting a glance at Felix’s office. He was sitting at his computer, no doubt making all the last minute changes to copy before sending in final draft. “Give me five minutes,” I said, hurtling toward my desk.
“You only have four!” Allie yelled. Then looked down at her watch and amended it to, “Three now!”
I ignored her, diving for my desk and pulling up the file I’d typed out earlier. No time to read over it. I prayed it was relatively typo-free.
I formatted it, logged it into the system, my finger hovering over the send button. Five fifty-nine.
I stood, glancing over the tops of the cubicles toward Felix’s office. Allie sat on the edge of his desk, giggling. Legs crossed, thigh exposed, boobs inches from his face. He was one step away from drooling on his button-down shirt. God bless the little tart.
I pounded my finger down on the enter key, sending my column in just as the clock changed to six. I held my breath, waiting for confirmation that I’d made it in time. Two second later, the little window popped up telling me my open note to my stalker would indeed appear in the morning edition.
I let out a sigh so big it ruffled my hair, then closed my eyes and fell back into my chair with a moan of relief.
“What was that?”
My eyes popped open to find Cal suddenly at my side, his gaze on my screen.
“Uh…my column. I forgot to send it in earlier. Just made it under the wire. Lucky, huh? Well, that’s it for today. Ready to go?” I gave him my best attempt at a breezy smile.
His eyes narrowed. Unfortunately for me, Cal was no dummy.
I ignored him, instead grabbing my purse, flipping off my desk light, and heading for the elevator.
Only I didn’t get far.
“Bender!”
I must have been a little on the jumpy side, because at the sound of Felix’s voice booming from his office, I think I peed my pants a little.
“Yeah?” I squeaked out, my heart leaping into my throat. Please tell me the blonde did her job…
“Your column,” he said, his eyebrows hunkering down in an angry slash.
I licked my lips. “What about it?”
“It’s late.”
I did a mental sigh of relief so loud, I swear even Aunt Sue could have heard it. “Right. Sorry. I just sent it in. Must have slipped my mind earlier.” I smacked my forehead in a super-graceful move as if to illustrate the point.
Felix nodded. “Good.” Then disappeared back into his office.
And I made a beeline for the elevators before anything else could go wrong.
At Cal’s place we found a note from the aunts saying Sue had over-boiled the macaroni and they’d gone to pick up hoagies for dinner. Cal mumbled something about getting some paperwork done and headed off to his bedroom. Which was fine with me. After the nerve-wracking day I’d had, I could use a little me time anyway.
I plopped down on the sofa and booted up my laptop, checking my email. I half-hoped, half-feared another note from my stalker, but my inbox was conspicuously empty. As in no messages at all. Not a one. Marco was right, news of my involvement with the police was spreading faster than a summer wildfire, and my informants had all gone mum.
This sucked.
I prayed my article tomorrow did its job. Otherwise, I was likely to be stuck covering the baby bump beat with Cam for any kernel of a story.
Trying not to dwell on that unpleasant thought, I pulled up a blank screen and began typing my exclusive story on the fall of a child star turned murderer and the final hours of character actor Jake Mullins. I was halfway through Alexis’s emotional confession-just to the part when she dissed her husband’s acting abilities-when an IM popped up in the corner of my screen.
I sucked in a deep breath.
