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 let or not let anyone tell me what to do, but Cal was bigger, stronger, and I had a feeling he wasn’t above using bodily force if the situation called for it. All in all, the less he knew the better.

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 Informer’s building. After making a semilegal U-turn, Cal maneuvered his tank into it, and I bolted, grabbing Strawberry Shortcake and flying through the lobby with a speed generally only seen in Olympic trials.

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.