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and candy.  I just know she's the kind of person who doesn't eat sugar.  Or caffeine.  And who wakes up at some ungodly hour in the morning to do yoga and meditate before she heads to the gym.
    "I told your father it was probably best to not disturb you last night," she says.  "The way you found out about the engagement was...abrupt.  And I'm sure you're exhausted after finals and graduation."
    I nod.  I don't know what to say.  I know she's being nice, trying to console me or whatever, since it was probably my father's idea to spring that shit on me with no warning, but it's just too damn early in the morning for some kind of bonding experience with the breathtakingly gorgeous and much too perfect celebrity standing in my kitchen.  "Is my father around here?"
    "He's out for a run," she says.  "It's one of his longer runs.  He's training for a marathon."
    Of course he is, I think.  I don't remember my father being into running.  "Is there coffee around here somewhere?"
    "We've cleaned out the pantry," Ella says.  We, I note.  "Your father doesn't drink caffeine anymore.  But there's an herbal coffee alternative on the counter.  It's so much better for you than coffee, and it has a cleansing effect."
    I turn toward her, my un-caffeinated brain refusing to process what she's saying.  Have I actually descended into the seventh circle of Hell?  "So there's no coffee in the house," I say, my voice flat.
    Ella looks at me, her expression so earnest it makes me almost want to forgive her.  "I - I should have gotten some."
    "It's okay."  I turn and lean against the kitchen counter.  Am I expected to stand here and politely converse, without even having a coffee?  Is that how they do it in Hollywood?   It seems cruel and unusual.  "I'm just going to go find a coffee shop."
    "Oh."  Ella looks positively heartbroken, as if she's failed at some new fiancé test.  I just don't have the energy to reassure her right now.
    "Do you want anything from the coffee shop?" I ask.  "Like...a bagel or something?"
    She wrinkles her nose.  Ah, of course not.  Carbs.   I'm sure she doesn't eat them.  "Uh...No thank you," she says.
    I grab my wallet upstairs and slip out the door, relieved to get out of the house.
    "Following me?"  Caulter stands at the corner of the house, and casually blows smoke rings in my direction.
    "Of course not," I say, annoyed.  "There's no coffee in this place.  I'm getting caffeine.  I can't think."
    "Oh yeah."  He laughs.  "Did she try to offer you that herbal shit?"
    "You mean the green crap she's drinking?  What is that stuff?  It smells like fish."
    Caulter snorts.  "It's like algae and seaweed or something, I don't know.  It's rancid, right?  Like a milkshake made of fish tank.  But no, I mean the coffee substitute."
    "Yeah, some herbal thing?"  I ask.
    He laughs.  "It'll make you shit something fierce.  Don't do it."  Then he looks up at me. "Of course, it might help with that stick up your ass."
    "Seriously, I knew you couldn't go two minutes without being a dick."  I step down, and Caulter calls my name.  "What?"  I ask, my voice clipped.
    "That's what I'm talking about, Princess," he says.  "You need to get a fucking sense of humor."
    "Sure, Caulter."  I turn to walk away, but he calls my name again.  "What?"
    "Here," he says.  "You want one?"  He holds up one of those canned espresso drinks, and then tosses it to me.
    I pop the top and gulp down the life-saving liquid as I walk toward where he's standing.  He turns his head and blows a trail of smoke to the side.  "That's a disgusting habit," I say.  "You're going to get cancer."
    "I give you coffee, and you come over here to lecture me about my hobbies," he says.  "Those are some bad fucking manners."
    "Thanks for the coffee."  I take another sip, and look at the empty can by his feet.  "So you're out here mainlining caffeine and nicotine, or what?"
    "Gotta have my fix," he says, looking at me, his gaze