Secrets Excerpt

Chapter 1

Camille Brinkman sat on the floor of her walk-in closet surrounded by copious amounts of designer clothes. The shelves full of cashmere and the drawers overflowing with La Perla. The revolving shoe rack holding no less than fifty pairs of assorted Christian Louboutin, Prada, and Stuart Weitzman heels. The antique French chandelier hanging above the accessory island twinkled brilliantly over an impressive assortment of jewels. Necklaces, earrings, and bracelets all nestled in midnight blue velvet under the glass topped safe, not unlike a Tiffany’s display.

The closet had always been Camille’s favorite place to seek refuge. To her, it was a return trip to the womb, a place to feel safe and secure, surrounded by all of the material possessions she had worked so hard to acquire. She went there every time life threatened to overwhelm her with its endless details; the very details that had just multiplied tenfold.

Camille slid down the wall and rolled onto her side resting her cheek against the plush cream colored carpeting. With tears streaming down her face she let her mind go blank. Now if she could just stay like that, in a semi coma, until everything had sorted itself out. Yet somewhere deep inside her brain she heard the austere voice of Mr. Binks, her junior year Major British Writer’s teacher, solemnly quoting the Merchant of Venice:

All that glitters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

That’s when it hit Camille. Her closet was no longer her safe haven; it was a worm filled tomb, suffocating the life right out of her. She had sold herself too cheaply and now she was paying the price. If only she could go back in time and make better choices. If only she could have had more confidence in her abilities, her life could have turned out so differently.
* * * * *

Cammy Kelly couldn’t believe that she had finally saved enough money to buy her first Ralph Lauren outfit. She’d been hoarding her babysitting money for the better part of six weeks and after last night’s marathon stint with the Cooper kids she was ready to take the train into the city to Lord and Taylor’s and make the eventful purchase.

Cammy planned to blow her hair out just so, pulling the side of her wavy auburn tresses back in a slim barrette, just like the model in the Polo ads. Then she would apply the right amount of shimmering pink lip gloss and a touch of mascara. After all, she didn’t want the sales lady to know that this was her first time buying designer. She wanted to look like she had been born rich when she handed over her hard earned two hundred plus dollars. She wanted to feel the power that the popular girls felt every time they went shopping, which appeared to be the very second that Ralph created anything new. The “in” crowd purchased the latest designer looks the day they arrived in the store. She knew for a fact that Tricia Conroy’s mother made sure that her daughter’s sizes were held in the back every time a new shipment came in. That way Tricia could have any little thing that caught her fancy.

Unlike Mrs. Conroy, Mrs. Kelly did the majority of her shopping at Sears. Much to Cammy’s chagrin, she was never going to fit in if she looked like the working class daughter of a plumber; which was exactly what she was. So far she had managed to keep that information to herself but only because she didn’t have any friends to share it with.

Cammy was in her Junior year at Bloomfield Valley High School. Her family had just moved to the upper crust Chicago suburb the summer before and even though she had been at her new school for three months, she still ate lunch all by herself everyday. She couldn’t figure out why no one ever sat down with her or why they hadn’t invited her to join them at their tables. Even the townies ignored her. God knew Cammy didn’t want to sit with the unpopular townies, but you’d think that at least they would welcome a new member to their ranks.

That’s when Cammy started her scientific assessment of the popular crowd. She paid close attention to what they wore, ate, and even how they did their makeup. If she was ever going to consider herself a part of their group, she was going to have to know how they operated, from the inside out. She became fixated on Trica Conroy, Brooke Dunkin, and Annabelle Locke. They were the girls she wanted to be friends with because they were the girls who acted like they owned the world. Cammy knew that if she could just befriend those three, she could accomplish anything.

As she set the kitchen table for dinner, Cammy wondered how she would ever be able to invite her new friends to her house. The Formica table was about a million years old and every chair wobbled except her fathers. All the appliances in the kitchen were outdated; the olive green vinyl was peeling off the floors and the kitchen actual appeared to be on a slant. Once a week, she and her mom had to push the table back up against the wall where it belonged. And that was just the kitchen!

The only reason Cammy’s family even moved to Bloomfield Valley was because her great Aunt Edna had died leaving her nephew, Cammy’s dad, all of her worldly possessions. As the Kelly’s had been renting an apartment in a much less affluent suburb, this archaic residence on Chestnut Street in Bloomfield Valley looked like a the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was a pot of tin as far as Cammy was concerned. Their old place might not have been in a totally safe neighborhood, and her school may not have been the best but at least she had friends there. None of her old friends had ever even taken the train to visit her because now that she lived in Bloomfield Valley, they were convinced that she had become the epitome of a stuck up preppy. If only!

Cammy’s mom walked into the room carrying her youngest son Collin, on her hip. “Thanks for setting the table, hon. Would you mind changing the baby’s diaper and then calling every one in for dinner?”

Cammy took her little brother and proceeded to remove the filthiest diaper that she had yet to encounter. Swallowing down a burst of nausea, she wondered why her parents kept having children. It’s not that she didn’t love her brothers and sisters; it’s just that six kids were expensive and the Kelly’s never had that much in the way of spare cash. Cammy swore that if she ever had children she would make sure that she would be rich enough to hire a nanny. With five younger siblings, she had changed enough diapers for one lifetime.

Cammy spent the entire meal lost in the fantasy world in her head, a world where she could have all the Ralph Lauren outfits that she wanted, a world where she had more friends than she knew what to do with.
* * * * *

Camille finally dragged herself off the closet floor when she heard the maid coming down the hall. It wouldn’t do to have Maria reporting to Russ that she was acting oddly. After all, if she had any hopes of coming out of this situation unscathed she couldn’t afford to tip her husband off.


Chapter 2

Tricia Conroy had noticed the new girl on her first day of school but she didn’t bother speaking to her for two reasons. Number one, Cammy Kelly was prettier than she was and while Tricia was very pretty in her own right, she was also hell bent on getting a date with Troy Morgan. For that reason alone, she didn’t want to surround herself with anyone as stunning as Cammy.

The second reason was that Cammy appeared to be poor. That is if her clothes were anything to go by. Tricia didn’t personally care that she was poor but the other girls in her clique definitely would and she wasn’t about to be nice to a poor kid if it meant pissing off the friends that she already had. Then of course there was her mother. Louise Conroy paid close attention to who Tricia’s friends were. She wanted to make sure that her daughter was cultivating the right kind of alliances. Tricia was pretty sure that Cammy’s parents didn’t belong to the best country club or any country club for that matter. Hence, she would never pass inspection. So why bother getting to know her?

Tricia tied her pink sweater over her shoulders and checked her makeup in the mirror hanging on the side of her locker before grabbing her books and heading off for sixth period. Sixth period was Major British Writers and while Tricia was a very good student, for some reason Mr. Binks seemed to have it in for her. No matter how much she tried to participate in class or how hard she worked on her papers, she could never bring her grade up beyond a B. It was infuriating because if she was ever going to get into Northwestern, she couldn’t afford to get B’s in anything.
Tricia took her seat between Brook and Annabelle three seconds before the final bell rang. Mr. Binks eyed her as he stood up from his desk. Regardless of the fact that two other students were just walking through the door, he raised his left eyebrow and scolded, “Cutting a bit close, weren’t you Miss Conroy?”

Tricia wanted to scream, “at least I’m in my chair, asshole!” Of course she didn’t. She just glanced at the other late comers to make her point.

Annabelle leaned over and whispered, “He treats you like that because he wants you.”

Tricia rolled her eyes and stuck her finger down her throat as if the thought was enough to make her puke. Mr. Binks wasn’t that old, maybe thirty or so. He was tall and not totally repulsive looking but he acted like such a dick that Tricia couldn’t help but be revolted at the thought of him wanting her as Annabelle put it.

Mr. Binks started to read from The Merchant of Venice. Tricia paid close attention in a vain attempt to bring her grade up. Brooke kicked off her penny loafers and closed her eyes, thinking the pose made her look like she was deeply entranced in the dialogue. When in fact it just made her look like she was asleep, which she probably was. And Annabelle spent the fifty two minutes of class planning her seventeenth birthday bash.

Just as Tricia tried to stifle a yawn, Mr. Binks stopped reading and addressed the class, “I want a show of hands, who thinks that’s Shylock is a sympathetic character?” A smattering of hands shot up. “Now, who doesn’t think that he’s a sympathetic character?” The majority of the class raised their hands in response. Mr. Binks looked right at Tricia and asked, “Miss Conroy, why don’t you think that Shylock is sympathetic?”

Tricia answered, “Well, he killed Antonio didn’t he?” She added, “I don’t normally find murderers worthy of compassion, do you?”

Mr. Binks smiled at her in a condescending way without responding. Then he turned to Cammy and asked, “Miss Kelly, you thought Shylock was sympathetic, why?”

Cammy turned bright red and fought every impulse to get up and run out of the room. The last thing that she wanted was for the entire class to focus their attention on her, especially when she was disagreeing with Tricia Conroy. After what felt like hours, she finally answered, “I just think that because Shylock had been persecuted so horribly by the Christians that it’s hard not to feel for that all he’s had to endure.”

Mr Binks asked, “Even though he’s a murderer?”

Quietly, Cammy answered, “We’re all the product of our experience. I just think that if he hadn’t been mistreated, maybe he wouldn’t have become a murderer at all.”

Without opening her eyes, Brooke leaned over to Tricia and whispered, “We better keep an eye on that one. I bet she’s the type that would snap and slaughter her whole family in their sleep.”
Annabelle overheard and laughed out loud before she could stop herself. Mr. Binks glared at her and demanded, “Miss Locke, what is so funny?”

Annabelle, ever the calm cookie replied, “I was just thinking about a joke I heard in gym.”
Mr. Binks replied, “Why don’t you share it with us Miss Locke? I’m sure the class would appreciate a good laugh.”

Without missing a beat Annabelle launched into a tale about a horse with three penises. Mr. Binks immediately cut her off, “I’ll see you in detention this afternoon, Miss Locke.”

Annabelle countered, “I don’t see why, I was just doing what you told me to do.”

“Would you like detention tomorrow too?”

Annabelle fumed, “I didn’t want it today! Look Mr. Binks, it seems to me that I shouldn’t be punished for just doing what I was told.”

Mr. Binks slammed his book down, “I did not tell you to tell the class a dirty joke Miss Locke!”

“Actually sir, you told me to tell them the joke that made me laugh and that’s exactly what I was doing.”

Mr. Binks exclaimed, “Enough! You’ll report to detention this afternoon and that’s all there is to it.”

Brooke chose that moment to pipe in, “You’re being totally unfair, Mr. Binks. After all, she only did what she was told,”

“Your point is taken Miss Dunkin. I will expect you in detention as well.” Then he looked out at the class and asked, “Anyone else want to defend Miss Locke?” When no one answered, he looked at Tricia and asked, “How about you Miss Conroy. Don’t you want to stick up for your friend?”

Tricia crunched down in her seat, “No sir.”

Mr. Binks persisted, “Anyone else?”

Cammy saw this as the perfect opportunity to get in good with Annbelle and Brooke so she tentatively raised her hand. The way she figured it, if she could support them by staying after in detention with them, maybe they would have a chance to talk and she would be one step closer to becoming friends with them. She knew it wasn’t a great plan but it was more than she had to go on up until that point.

Mr. Binks stared at Cammy and said, “You can’t be serious, Miss Kelly.”

Cammy responded, “Well sir, actually I am. It seems to me that if this issue were before the debate team, Annabelle would have won her argument. I mean, she did do exactly as you told her to. She told you the story that made her laugh.”

Mr. Binks interrupted, “So you’re saying that it was my fault?”

“Technically, yes.”

Mr. Binks asked, “You’re saying that I should have asked Miss Locke if the story that made her laugh was a dirty one before she started telling it?”

Cammy cleared her throat, “Well, we are in high school sir. Chances are that if one of us laughs out loud in the middle of class at a story we remembered hearing in gym class, it has a pretty good chance of being a little off colored.”

Mr. Binks stared at Cammy and then surprised the entire class by laughing. After a moment he announced, “No detention for any of you. But heed my warning, no more dirty jokes or I’ll make the whole class stay.” Then he looked at Tricia and declared, “Miss Conroy, it seems to me that if you were any kind of friend to Miss Locke, you would have offered to defend her as well as Miss Kelly did.”

Tricia wanted to scream! What in the heck? If she had opened her mouth to so much as breathe, she would have gotten detention until senior year. Now Stinky Binky wanted her to actually disagree with him and think that he would have rewarded her for it? God, life was unfair! Using every last shred of strength in her body, Tricia managed to keep herself from storming up to Mr. Binks and ripping his larynx out with her bare hands, the bastard.

Cammy couldn’t believe that by speaking up she had actually gotten Annabelle and Brooke sprung from detention. In a way she was thrilled but then how was she ever going to actually get a chance to talk to them if she didn’t spend time with them? She’d have to go back to the drawing board on that one. She hoped that Tricia wasn’t mad at her for Mr. Binks’s crack that she should have been the one to stand up for her friends. After all, everyone knew that their teacher hated Tricia. If she had said anything he probably would have had her expelled.
When the bell rang announcing the end of sixth period, Cammy gathered her books and stood up. As she walked by Tricia, Annabelle, and Brooke on the way to the door, Annabelle called out to her, “Hey thanks for your help.”

Cammy smiled back and casually answered, “No problem,” when she really wanted to jump up and down from excitement. This was the first time anyone from the “in” crowd had ever so much as looked at her let alone thanked her. This day was turning out better than she could have ever anticipated.

Chapter 3

Camille ran into Maria as she exited the closet. The maid smiled at her and continued carrying a stack of extra thick butter yellow bath sheets into the master bath. When she emerged she asked, “Mr. Russ says dinner need to start at seven, yes?” “That’s right Maria. The guests will arrive by six-thirty but Mr. Brinkman wants you to have the first course ready by seven. Dessert should be served by eight and with any luck everyone will be gone by nine-thirty”
Maria nodded her head, “Okay Mrs. Russ. I tell Raul.”

The maid left the master suite with the lady of the house at her heels. Camille never tired of the beauty of her home. The grand stair case that swept up three flights, the hand carved banisters, the chandeliers that lit every room, the antiques and all of the lovely art work; most of it museum quality. She never would have believed that she would be living in a twelve thousand square foot mansion with so many opulent possessions, a handsome husband, and four live in servants. Camille briefly thought of her childhood and sighed. She now had everything that she ever dreamed of but nothing was turning out the way it was supposed to.

Camille walked into her robin’s egg blue and white sitting room and went straight to her nineteenth century Mahogany Carlton House desk. She loved her desk and never sat down at it without visualizing all of the ladies that must have spent hours sitting exactly where she did, accepting and declining invitations or writing to family members that had been left behind in some distant English shire. But today she didn’t spare them a second thought. She merely opened the center drawer and pulled out her black kid leather address book. Picking up the phone she punched in the number of one of her closest friends. After three rings she heard, “Anne Lockwood’s residence, how may I help you?”

Camille recognized the voice of her friend’s personal assistant, “Jenny, its Camille Brinkman. Is she in?”

“No Mrs. Brinkman, she’s not. She’s shooting on location today. Why don’t you try her cell phone?” Camille answered, “Thanks Jenny, I’ll do that.” Then she looked up her friend’s mobile number and punched it in. After barely one ring, the familiar voice of Annabelle Locke, a.k.a. Anne Lockwood asked, “Cammy, what’s wrong?”

Camille broke down, “Oh Annabelle, things are spinning out of control. Is the invitation still open to visit next week?”

Annabelle answered, “Absolutely! In Fact I just heard back from Tricia and she was able to get her mom to stay with the kids so she’ll be coming on the same flight as Brooke.” Concerned by her friend’s tears, Annabelle asked, “What happened, Cammy?”

Camille sobbed, “I can’t tell you over the phone.” Then she whispered, “I’ll tell all of you when I arrive on Friday, okay?”

Annabelle answered soothingly, “Okay honey, you just get here safely. Call if you need anything.”

Camille agreed and then hung up the phone. Now all she had to do was get through a dinner with Russ and the board of directors of Brinkman Pharmaceuticals. Then she could kiss her husband goodbye in the morning knowing that she would be long gone before he got back from his trip to Tokyo. Of course she had no intention of telling him that she was going away too. In fact part of her thought that she might never see him again after tomorrow.

Stopping off at the wet bar in Russ’s office, Camille poured herself a great big gin and tonic for strength and popped a Xanax for courage. Surely she could get through one more night, like so many before, without showing her hand. If only she could pretend that she hadn’t just learned that her husband of ten years was plotting to have her killed. But she couldn’t let herself get caught up in the emotions of her newfound knowledge. She needed to act as if all was well and then, next week, with the help of her friends she could start to plan her revenge.
* * * * *

Cammy floated home on cloud nine. Today was the best day in her entire three months at Bloomfield Valley High School. As soon as she sat down at her tiny little lunch table for two, she noticed Brooke Dunkin walking towards her. Cammy briefly glanced behind her to see if Brooke was on her way to see someone at another table. But there were only townies behind her. When Brooke stopped right in front of her, Cammy thought she might pass out.
Brooke smiled and said, “I really appreciate what you did for Annabelle and me in Major British Writers yesterday.”


Trying to sound calm, Cammy replied, “It was nothing, really.”
Brooke suggested, “Hey if you’re not eating lunch with anyone today, why don’t you come over and sit with us?” Cammy was so thrilled with the invitation that she thought she’d fall over if she stood up. She finally managed, “Really?”

Brooke responded, “Sure, unless you’re meeting someone.”

Cammy risked fainting and bolted to her feet. She grabbed her straw book bag and her tray and said, “No, not meeting anyone else. So, I guess I’d be happy to join you.”

Brooke knew that Cammy had sat at that very lunch table all by herself for the last three months so there was no way that she was meeting anyone. But she appreciated the new girl’s ability to make it sound like it was a possibility. Brooke would have gone ahead and let Cammy eat alone for the next six months as well if she hadn’t jumped in and helped her out in class. It’s not that one day of detention would have been such a big deal to Brooke; it’s just that she admired people who stood up for a cause, especially when she happened to be that cause.
On the way over to the popular table, Cammy was struck by the sheer terror of sitting with the cool kids. After all, it was one thing to be asked to join them once. It would be a completely different story to make their lunch table her permanent dining address.

Annabelle noticed Cammy coming towards them and scooted over to make room for her. She smiled, “Well if it isn’t the girl with the brass balls.”

Cammy smiled, “It was no big deal.”

Tricia had not been too keen on the idea of asking Cammy to join them. She interjected, “Well according to Binks it was a big deal. So much so that he thought I should have been the one to stand up for Brooke and Annabelle.”

Cammy sensed that her response to Tricia would be a test that she had to pass with flying colors if she had any intention of continuing to eat with them. So she took a deep breath and forged ahead, “I don’t want to sound mean Tricia, but if you would have stood up to Mr. Binks and said what I did, he would have sent you to detention for life. I mean, the man positively hates you!”
Tricia threw her hands up in the air, “I knew it was obvious! How can everyone in class know that creep has it out for me and yet he still gets away with it? I’m never going to get him to give me the A that I deserve.”

Annabelle blurted out, “I told you Tricia, he does it because he has a crush on you.”

Tricia disagreed, “If he liked me, don’t you think he’d be nicer to me?”

Cammy replied, “Actually Tricia, if he has a crush on you then his behavior makes a lot of sense. Chances are that you’re a lot like a girl that he liked when he was in high school. And if he was as big of a dweeb then as he is now, she probably turned him down flat.”

Tricia rolled her eyes and sarcastically drawled, “Well that’s fair, being punished because someone else bagged on him a million years ago when he was a kid.”

Cammy confided, “It happened to my mom. She went to high school with the butcher in our old neighbor. Mr. Schwimer asked her to the prom when they were seniors and my mom said no. So, when he became a butcher, he used to give her the worst cuts of meat. It got so bad that my mom had to change stores.”

Tricia slammed her hand on the table and declared, “I want revenge!” She looked at Cammy, “For me and your mom. Your mom got sucky meat and I’m getting a sucky grade. There has to be a way that I can get even.”

A devious smile crossed Annabelle’s face, “How badly do you want it?”

Tricia confirmed, “I would do anything.”

Annabelle smiled, “Good, because I have a plan.”