“Jesus, Bender! That kid who was in Pines’s last movie? Came forward this morning saying that Pines asked him to pose for inappropriate photos while on the set.”

“Sonofa—” I caught myself just in time, remembering I was fresh out of quarters for the Swear Pig. “—goat.”

“No kidding. Allie’s been hounding his publicist for a comment all day.”

I cringed. The blonde was showing me up big time. “I’ll be right there.”

I flipped my phone shut, shoving it back into my purse. “Change of plans,” I told Cal. “We’re going back to the Informer.”

He raised an eyebrow my way. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

He shot me a look. “I notice you didn’t tell Felix about last night’s break-in.”

“No. I didn’t. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”

“He’s going to find out sooner or later.”

“Let’s hope for later. Like after I’ve scooped Barbie.”

Again with the look. But, thankfully, he didn’t ask, instead, making a U-turn (no small task in a Hummer) on Pico and flipping back toward Hollywood.

Ten minutes later we were riding the elevator to the second floor. The doors slid open, and immediately I could feel the energy of a hot story crackling in the air. Cam was laying photos out on the conference room table, Cece running back and forth from cubicles to the boss’s office with all the latest developments, Felix shouting orders in rapid succession, threatening jobs if someone didn’t get him an exclusive. And everywhere phones rang one after the other as reporters tried to get hold of the boy’s publicist, his other co-stars, the parents, the tutor, the former nanny, anyone who could be quoted as an “intimate source.” It was a race to find the winning angle that would land you above the fold.

Immediately I plopped myself in front of my computer and went to work, booting up my address book and sending emails like a mad woman to my network of informants. Even as I hit send on the third one, replies started to trickle in. As one after another popped into my inbox, it became clear the news was buzzing all over Hollywood. And I felt like a total lout for being the last to know the latest developing break on my own story. Felix was right—what kind of reporter was I?

“Hey, Bender,” Max said, poking his head up over the top of his partition.

“Yeah?” I asked, though I didn’t take my eyes from the screen as two more emails popped in.

“You know that guy in the movie with Pines and the kid? Jake Mullins? The one who played the kid’s dad?”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied.

“Turns out he died last month.”

I paused, giving the old man my full attention. “No shit?”

“Just found the obit in my archives.”

“How’d he go?”

“OD’ed. Prescription sleeping meds.”

“Wow.”