“Hey? Jennifer, right?” I asked, approaching the actress. I noticed Cal move off to my right, trying to blend into the scenery. Luckily, Jennifer didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in her creamy drink.
“Yep,” she answered, slurping through her straw.
“How’s the shooting going?”
Jennifer shot me a wary look. “Fine. Who are you again?”
“Samantha Stevens. I’m on that new Steven Bochco show, two doors down,” I said, waving my hand in a very vague direction.
Luckily, Jennifer didn’t seem to need specifics. “Oh. Right,” she said, between sips. “Yeah, I heard that’s a really cool show.”
“Well, it’s no Pippi Mississippi.”
She shot me a wan smile. “Right, like the Emmys are gonna be calling me any day now.”
“Hey, you won a Kid’s Choice Award! That’s awesome. Besides, you’re wicked popular,” I said, laying it on thick. “I see your name all over the place.”
“All over kid’s lunchboxes.”
“No, just the other day I was reading about you in the Informer,” I said, carefully gauging her reaction. “In Tina Bender’s column.”
Jennifer snorted. “That trash?”
‘Kay, if people didn’t stop dissing me this way, I was likely to get a complex.
“Not a fan of Tina’s, huh?”
Jennifer shook her head. “That’s putting it mildly. Let’s just say, if she got hit by a bus tomorrow, I wouldn’t be crying any.”
That’s it-she was off my Facebook friend list.
“I saw that bit she ran about you at the Martini Room,” I said, goading her on. “So mean!”
Jennifer nodded vigorously, her blonde bangs bobbing up and down. “I know, right? She said I smoked ‘Mary Jane’? I didn’t even know what Mary Jane was. I had to google it!”
“But you were holding the joint,” I couldn’t help myself from pointing out.
Her face reddened. “Kinda, I guess.”
“So…” I worded my next question carefully. “That party at the Martini Room, that was the night before last, right?”
She shook her head. “No, the after-party was the night before that. Two nights ago I was at Ashlee’s housewarming party.”
Bingo. Houston, we have an alibi. “Ashlee…Simpson?”
“Well, duh!”
I hated teenagers. “How late were you there?”
She shot me a look. “Why do you care?”
“Well…I was there, too! Just wondering how we missed each other.”
Jennifer shrugged. “I dunno, maybe one. All the champagne gave me a headache.”
The perils of being a star.
Unfortunately, one was late enough. Okay, it wasn’t totally outside the realm of reality that she could have snuck out, made the call, then snuck back in. But I found it unlikely she could have done it at the party without someone noticing the robotic voice emanating from the next room. I remembered the way Max had poked his head up over the partition when I used it. It wasn’t something you heard every day. Never mind the fact that the call had come from PW Enterprises and not “Jen’s Cell Phone.”
A PA picked that moment to pop his head out the stage door. “Miss Wood? They’re ready for you.”
Jennifer sucked the last of her latte through the straw, then set her empty cup down on the ground. “Gotta run,” she said. “Catch you later, Sylvia.”
“Samantha.”
She gave me a bored look that clearly said, “Who cares?” then pulled open the side door.
“Nice meeting you!” I called after her.
But she was already inside.
Automatically, I picked up Jennifer’s cup and tossed it into the nearest garbage can.
“Any luck?” Cal asked, joining me as I walked back toward our golf cart.
“Not much.” I filled him in on Jennifer’s story. “So far all I know is people aren’t fond of me and everyone goes to better parties than I do.”
“Cheer up. It’s not everyone who has their own stalker.” Cal threw an arm around my shoulders. It was a casual gesture, but it made me acutely aware of the heat coming off his skin.
“Gee. I feel much better now,” I countered, trying to decide whether I liked or disliked that heat.
Before I could come to any solid conclusions, he pulled away and hopped in the golf cart again. I joined him and held on to the white roll bar as he deftly maneuvered through the sets.
“Okay,” Cal said, “so Katie doesn’t own a computer-”
“So she says.”
“-and Jennifer was at Ashlee’s house.”
“So she says.”
“Any way to check that out?”
“I was just about to do that.” I grabbed my cell, quickly dialing Marco’s number. He picked it up on the third ring.
“Fernando’s salon, how may I help you?”
“Hey, Marco, it’s Tina. Listen, party at Ashlee Simpson’s two nights ago. Know anything about it?”
“Does Coach make handbags? Of course I do!”
“Were you there?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
“Well, no,” he conceded. “But my friend Maddie’s friend Dana’s boyfriend Ricky was. He’s in Ash’s latest video.”
“Perfect! I need to know if Jennifer Wood was at the party. Think you can find out?”
“I’m on it, dahling!”
“Love ya,” I said, doing a smooch into the phone before flipping it shut. Then I turned to Cal. “Alibi checking in motion.”
“Great. Who’s next on our list?”
I looked down at my watch.
“Uh, actually, I think I need to call it a day.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Got a hot date?”
I scoffed. “Hardly. I have to get home to my aunt.”
“The lady with the tracksuits?”
“You were spying on me last night!”
“I was keeping an eye on you.”
“Through binoculars.”
“Yes.”
“Aimed at my windows.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head, indignation oozing from every pore. “That is such an invasion of privacy.”
“That’s my job,” he calmly replied, pulling the golf cart up to the lot and switching it out for the Hummer.
“Well, then your job sucks!”
“Says the girl who publicly trashes people for a living.”
“Hey, those people deserved to be trashed. You do stupid stuff, someone’s gonna point it out,” I replied, hoisting myself back into the truck.
He shot me a look. “Remind me to behave around you.”
“Yeah, well you can start by ditching the binoculars, buddy,” I shot back.
We rode the rest of the way home in silence. A long silence. It was rush hour in L.A. We were lucky to move an inch in twenty minutes. I was seriously jonesing for my Rebel when we got stuck behind a pileup on the 101. How easily I could have weaved between the cars and simply zipped my way home. Instead, I was stuck in a tank, getting dirty looks from every eco-friendly Prius driver who passed us.
By the time we pulled up to Oasis Terrace, I was tired, hungry, and really had to pee.
“Well, thanks for the ride,” I said, throwing open the door and dropping the two feet to the ground.
“I’ll walk you in.”
“You really don’t need to,” I protested.
“I’d feel better if I did.” And before I could stop him, Cal had beeped the car locked and was already following me up the front path.
“Look, I’m a big girl. I think I can walk myself to my front d-” But I trailed off as we approached the condo.
The door was open. The wood splintered near the handle as if someone had kicked the thing in. Hard.
I felt my heart jump into my throat, the breath suddenly knocked out of me as my mind latched on to one horrible thought.