“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.”