Hollywood Confessions (8 page)

After I wrote all three names down, I sat back and looked at my list of suspects. Twelve beauty pageant contestants, two on-again-off-again parents, twenty-one dwarves, and three reality show judges.

Oh boy. Alec was right. I seriously had my work cut out for me.

I chewed on the end of my sparkly pen, doing an eenie-meenie-minie-mo over which suspect I was going to tackle first. I was just about to catch a tiger by the toe when a head popped up over the fabric partition of my cube.

“
Hey, Allie,” a six-foot-tall blonde said. “Watcha working on?”

Cameron Dakota, our resident photographer. She leaned over my shoulder, glancing at my pad of paper.

I quickly covered it. “Nothing.”

“
I heard you were on Barker,” she pressed. “Any hot leads?”

While her tone was friendly, her motives were suspect. Cam had been friends with Tina long before I’d arrived on the scene, meaning if she had to pick, her allegiance lay with Tina every time. And she did have to pick. Every time.

I glanced across the newsroom at Tina’s desk. She was engrossed in something on her computer screen. Maybe a little
too
engrossed.

I turned to Cam. “Tina sent you over her to spy, didn’t she?”

Cam blew air out through her lips in a
pfft
sound and rolled her eyes. “No!”

I gave her a get-real look.

She bit her lip. “Okay, fine, yes.” She looked over her shoulder once, presumably to make sure Tina hadn’t caught her spilling the beans, then collapsed into the plastic chair beside my desk. “God, I hate being in the middle of you two.”

Cam twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. Clearly she was not cut out to be a spy. Cam was a blue-eyed, blonde-haired, typical California surfer girl. A natural beauty, she rarely did the make-up or hairspray thing, going more for ponytails and lip balm if anything. The irony was, she’d recently started dating one of Hollywood’s hottest movie stars, making every surgically enhanced wanna-be starlet in Hollywood cry “no fair”. Honestly, I was happy for Cam. While she was often roped into being Tina’s henchwoman, she wasn’t really all that bad on her own.

In fact, when I first came on board, the tension between Tina and I had been immediate and fierce, drawing a clear line in the sand between us. Of course, me being New Girl, everyone on staff had fallen on Tina’s side of the line. Which was fine. I mean, it would have been nice to have someone show me the ropes—or at least where the ladies’ restroom was—but I didn’t need any special favors. I knew I could get the stories all on my own.

But those first few weeks Tina might as well have been handing out T-shirts that read Team Tina, because no one would give me the time of day.

Cam had been the only person in the entire newsroom who’d even talked to me. Granted, she also wasn’t vying for page space with me, but it had been nice not to be treated like a total leper. Since then we’d worked together on a couple stories, actually making a pretty good team. I wouldn’t go so far as to say we were BFFs, but I generally trusted her.

Generally, that is, when Tina wasn’t thrown into the mix.

“
Sorry,” Cam said. “She kinda roped me into coming to check on you before I could say no.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. In Tina’s place, I would have done the same thing.”

“
You know, I’m always amazed you guys aren’t better friends. You’re so much alike.”

“
Okay, now I hate you.”

Cam grinned. “So, how are things coming with Barker?”

“
Well…” I hedged, knowing anything I said was probably going straight to Tina. On the other hand, I didn’t really have much more than a list of reality show actors anyway. So I showed it to Cam, giving her the brief rundown of the case.

Cam looked at my list. “Well, Don and Deb—pretty much everyone knows about them. They break up and get back together, depending on the ratings. Total dysfunction.” She scanned down the list again. “I honestly don’t know much about Lowel Simonson. He pretty much keeps to himself as far as interviews go. I know he’s in town, though. I was doing LAX coverage last week and saw him arrive from Tonga.”

Which was, conveniently, just before Barker was killed.

“
Know where he’s staying?” I asked.

Cam shook her head. “No. But word is, he’ll be in town for at least a few days before flying back for the next judging round.”

I wrote:
In town when B killed. Alibi?
next to Simonson’s name. “Anyone else jump out at you?” I asked.

She looked at the list again. “This guy,” she said, pointing to the Little Bachelor, Gary Ellstrom. “He’s a real hothead. I was down at The Grove last week. Turns out he works in some boutique there now, and he totally cussed out some lady just because she wanted his autograph.”

“
Hot temper, huh?”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. When he was on the show, they brought in some anger management therapist. Apparently he kept blowing up and breaking camera equipment.”

“
Sweet.” I put a star next to his name, shooting him to the top of my list. “You remember the name of the boutique?”

She nodded. “Bella Sole. They sell designer shoes.”

I wrote the name down. “Perfect. I could use an afternoon at The Grove anyway.” I threw my notebook and a sparkly pen in my purse and turned to go.

Only, Cam was still sitting beside my desk, looking like she wasn’t quite done chatting.

“
Is there something else?” I asked, itching to get going. I had a four o’clock deadline to get my article in to Felix, and so far I had bubkis.

“
Sorta,” Cam said. She stood up and leaned in toward me. She lowered her voice. “Listen, I have to ask…”

“
What?”

“
Well…” She bit the inside of her cheek, chewing thoughtfully. “Look, I know it’s really none of my business, but there’s this rumor going around, and I…well… I just…”

Uh-oh. “What rumor?” I asked.

“
About you.”

“
About me what?”

“
Well, some people are saying…and I’m not naming names—”

I’d bet a million dollars it started with a T.

“—
but, well, it’s been hinted at that maybe…”

“
Maybe what?” I asked.

“
You and Felix are sleeping together.”

Mental forehead smack. “I’m gonna kill her,” I mumbled.

“
So, does that mean you’re not?”

“
No! God, no.”

Okay, there had been The Night, but that had been before he was my boss, before it would have gone from bad idea to completely inappropriate. It was ages ago. It was so past tense. As in
slept
. Once. And, technically, we hadn’t even really slept much. And I was definitely not
sleeping
, present tense, with him now.

“
No. Definitely not,” I emphasized.

“
Sure. Right,” Cam said. Though I could tell she still had her doubts.

“
We’re not!”

“
Okay, okay!” She held her hands up in defensive gesture. “I believe you.”

“
Where, exactly, did you hear this rumor?” I asked.

“
Um, nowhere in particular. Around. Here and there.”

I looked over the top of my cube. Tina was still engrossed in her computer, the back of her purple-streaked head hunched intently over her keyboard. She looked a whole lot like
here
and
there
to me.

“
Great,” I said, hiking my purse higher on my shoulder. “So now everyone thinks I’m banging the boss?”

Cam went to nod. Then paused. “Maybe our mailroom guy hasn’t heard yet?”

“
Fabulous.”

“
Sorry,” she said. “I just thought you should know. And, hey, I’m glad it’s not true.”

“
Right. Thanks.”

I watched Cam walk away. Then glanced around the newsroom. Max Beacon, our obits guy, peeked around the side of his cube at me. Mrs. Rosenblatt, who did our weekly astrology column, stood at the copier with Celia, our office manager. They were both shooting glances my direction then quickly back down at their copies, pretending they weren’t talking about me. Across the room one of our freelancers was talking to our summer intern, a pimply kid with braces. They both stared my way, and I thought I saw the intern wink at me.

I narrowed my eyes at the back of that purple hair.

That’s it. This is war, Bender
.

* * *

The Grove is a shopping center located between Beverley Hills and West Hollywood. It’s an open-air affair, but strip mall it definitely ain’t. This is a full block of the most prime retail real estate you could get, housing upscale boutiques, exclusive restaurants and gorgeously choreographed fountains. On any given day you might see Angelina Jolie strolling through Baby Gap, or Kat Von D dragging her latest rock (or road) star to Maggiano’s Little Italy. This was shopping, Hollywood style.

I self-parked in the garage off Fairfax and window-shopped (wishing I hadn’t seen those credit card bills yesterday) my way to the middle of the center where the directory said Bella Sole was located. It had a Grecian-style entrance, pillars flanking a window display with mannequins all dressed like goddesses. In three-inch heels. I felt my Visa do a little wistful sigh as I pushed through the doors, inhaling the scent of new leather and four-hundred-dollar pumps.

In the center of the room were two rows of plush red chairs, three of which were currently occupied by women who could have been on Real Housewives of Orange County (and maybe one of them was…it was hard to tell, but the brunette closest the door looked a little like Jeana Keough, with a smaller nose.). To my left and right were rows of white shelves, illuminated from below, filled with fabulous footwear.

I walked to a shelf and fingered a pair of iridescent pink kitten heels. Bella Sole was way too classy to display price tags, but I could tell by the way the supple leather gave way beneath my fingers that it was somewhere in the range of out-of-my-means, bordering on I’d-be-paying-off-the-loan-for-the-rest-of-my-natural-life.