“Sorry, doll,” Marco said, shrugging his slim shoulders as I approached. “I held him off as long as I could.”

“That’s okay,” I reassured him. “You did great.”

“Oh, but I’ll call you tomorrow. The Lohan’s coming in for a cut and color, and you know there’ll be dirt.” Marco gave me a wink.

“That’s my boy. Hey, check your inbox for payment later.”

I gave him a wink as we exited the salon.

I felt Cal shaking his head beside me.

“What?” I asked.

“I just can’t believe there are so many people willing to sell secrets to you. You ever think of working for the CIA?”

I grinned, soaking up the compliment. Even if it wasn’t intended as one. “Thanks. But, you know, not all of them do it for money.”

“Oh?”

“For some it’s revenge. Some it’s a feeling of importance. Others just like to see their quotes in print.”

Cal gestured back at the salon as he beeped his Hummer open. “So, what’s Marco’s story? He squeal for cash?”

I laughed. “Marco? Heck no.” I looked back at my flamboyant friend. “He’s much easier than that. As long as I send him the weekly Clay Aiken update, Marco’s a happy camper.”

Chapter Six

“Alright, so who’s next on our list?” Cal asked as he pulled into traffic.

“Jennifer Wood.”

“Tell me about her.”

Mental forehead smack. “You don’t know who Jennifer Wood is?”

Cal shot me a look over the rim of his sunglasses. “Humor me.”

“Fine. Jennifer Wood was a pint-sized singing sensation in her hometown, winning the local cable access reality show Sheboygan’s Got Talent at the age of ten. At twelve she went national with her first recording contract, at fifteen her own TV show, which exploded onto the tween scene and has been going strong ever since. The girl’s got her face plastered on anything and everything an eight-year-old girl could want.”

“So, she’s a kid actress?”

“Correction,” I said. “She plays a kid actress. Her character, Pippi Mississippi, is thirteen. In real life, Jennifer just turned eighteen.”

Cal raised an eyebrow my way. “They grow up so fast. So, what’s she been mentioned in your column for?”

“The usual. Drinking. Drugs. Partying. Flashed her boobs at the cameras two weeks ago as she was getting into her limo.”

“May I never have a daughter. Alright, let’s go talk to America’s sweetheart.”

“Great. But first,” I said, glancing down at the clock on his dash, “lunch. I’m starving. Wanna hit a drivethru?”

Cal gave me a sideways look. “You know, that fastfood stuff will kill you.”

“So will global warming,” I countered, giving his Hummer a pointed look. “Oh, look, there’s an In-N-Out Burger!” I pointed to my favorite fast-food joint a block up on the right.