13. Camille

I felt weighted down as I returned home from Gran’s place.

After Brick had lit out of there, Gran talked me into staying for supper, where I’d finished the rest of the cookies he hadn’t eaten, plus gorged myself on a heaping plate of homemade spaghetti and meatballs.

She never would tell me what he’d told her—if we were friends, lovers, or enemies—and that drove me crazy. But I guess it didn’t really matter anymore. He wasn’t going to change his stance about the interview, which left me with two options.

Drop the subject completely or continue without his involvement and write an article that incriminated him to the point that he’d be exposed whether he liked it or not. I knew I could do it. I could take my story to Carmen, and she’d get me into the editing department within the hour.

But did I want to do that to Brick? Expose him against his wishes? Possibly get him into trouble with the law? And in effect hurt his sisters, who had become two of my very close best friends.

No. I