BAD: JENNIFER WOOD GETS A NEW TITLE THIS WEEK TO ADD TO REIGNING QUEEN OF TWEEN—LITTERBUG. TURNS OUT SHE NOT ONLY PUTS TRASH ON TV, BUT ON THE GROUND, TOO, LEAVING A TRAIL OF LATTE CUPS IN HER WAKE.

GOOD: KATIE BRIGGS WAS SEEN AT A CHARITY EVENT IN THE VALLEY LAST WEEK. HER DATE? HERSELF! TRUST ME, IT’S TRUE LOVE.

I bit my lip, tapping a pencil on the desk, trying to come up with an “Ugly” to round the column out.

UGLY: RUMORS ARE SWIRLING THAT HOLLYWOOD WILL SOON BE SEEING THE LOVE CHILD OF REHAB ROCKER BLAIN HALL AND HIS DIRTY DOGS BASSIST, CHERRY CHASE. ALL I CAN SAY ARE MY CONDOL-ENCES, MISS CHASE—IF BABY LOOKS ANYTHING LIKE DADDY, LET’S HOPE HIS TRUST FUND INCLUDES A PLASTIC SURGERY STIPEND.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously printing this?” I looked up to find Cal reading over my shoulder.

“What? It’s true. The rumors are swirling.”

“But you started them.”

I waved him off. “Semantics.”

“Aren’t these three on our suspect list?”

“So?”

“So, assuming one of them is your stalker, you really think it’s a good idea to piss them off like this?”

I swiveled in my chair to face him. “Look, this is what I do, Cal. I poke fun at celebrities. And these are the only celebrities I have at the moment.”

“So, maybe you should take a break from printing the column until this whole thing dies down.”

I lifted my chin. “I’m a writer, Cal.”

“I know.”

“A good one.”

“And humble.”

“Look, laugh all you want. I know what I am and what I’m not. I’m not pretty like Cam, I’m not stacked like Allie, I’m not a born leader like Felix. But I am a damned good writer. I can make an entire story out of nothing and word it in such a way that you’re dying to know more when I’m done. That is a skill. And I’m not letting some buttmunch with a voice disguiser take that away from me. I’m stronger than that.”

“You’re wrong,” Cal said.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Cal cut me off before I could get it out.

“You’re very pretty.”

I shut my jaw with a click, my cheeks instantly going hot. I looked down at my shoes, clearing my throat. “Look, why don’t you make yourself useful and go get us a couple of sandwiches, huh?” I asked.

“You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

“I have work to do, and I can’t do it when you’re all hovery.” I snuck a look up at him through my bangs. His eyes were laughing at me—I could feel it.

“What kind of sandwich you want?” he asked.

“Salami.”

Cal grinned, the laugh transferring to his lips. “I thought you hated salami.”