Apparently she’d had a small part as the kid’s babysitter. Huh. Small world. Well, considering “Samantha” was already pals with Jennifer, it was a place to start.

“Salami on sourdough.” Cal dropped a sandwich on my desk. “Extra mayo.” He gave me a wink.

I had to admit, I could get used to this lunch delivery thing.

An hour later we were parked outside the Sunset Studios lot, watching as one flashy BMW after another was waved through by a security guard who looked like he’d started shaving yesterday.

“So, how are we going to get in this time?” Cal asked behind his shades.

I stared out the passenger side window. Across the street were a liquor store, a souvenir shop and a Krispy Kreme.

I grinned. Now, this I could use…

Ten minutes later Cal and I were at the front gate, facing the baby security guard with two dozen glazed donuts.

“Who did you say you were again?” he asked, pulling out his list of those-cool-enough-to-be-allowed-entry.

“Crafts service. For the Celebrity Diet Wars show.”

He frowned, his baby-fine brows drawing together. “It says here crafts service already came in at noon.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. But, see, they didn’t anticipate how much those chubby celebs like their pastries.” I held up the Krispy Kreme box. “We had to go get more supplies.”

The guard nodded. “Oh. Right.” He consulted his clipboard again. “Okay, well, um, I guess go on in.”

I gave myself a little mental pat on the back for my fabulous acting skills as Cal maneuvered the SUV through the gates.

Five minutes later we’d ditched the tank for a golf cart and were speeding our way toward the Pippi Mississippi set. We parked outside, near a row of white trailers, and made our way onto the sound stage. Today’s filming was taking place in Pippi’s “bedroom,” a three-walled set decorated in more pink tulle than the entire cast of The Nutcracker. I tried not to gag on the cottoncandy-colored overload as Cal and I hung back.

In the center of the scene, on a ruffled pink daybed, sat Jennifer and her co-star. Jennifer was texting someone as a makeup artist powdered her forehead. The brunette was listening intently as the director gave her instructions.

“Okay, Lani, this is where Chloe confesses to Pipp that she has a crush on her boyfriend. So, I need you to look really contrite, okay?”

The brunette nodded seriously. “Okay.”

“You can do that, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Julius, I’m a classically trained Shakespearean actress. I think I can handle ‘contrite teen,’ okay?”

“Right.” I saw the director’s nostrils flare as he took in a deep breath. Then he shouted, “Back to one, everyone,” causing the crew to scatter like mice that had just heard the kitty coming.

The guy with the clapboard yelled, “Speed,” someone yelled, “Rolling,” and a loud bell sounded, signaling that shooting was under way.