Dirty Laundry (Camren G!P)

Chapter 15

Camila's POV

"Camila, honey, come down for supper!" Gran calls from downstairs.

"Be down in a minute!" I call back and pause my music.

I've been writing all day long. The article that is never going to see the light of day woke my out of a dead sleep at three o'clock that morning. I suppose you could say that is my version of a love letter to Lauren, but I want her to see herself through my eyes.

That assignment started out as a hail Mary to save my job. I approached it all very arrogantly and with more selfishness than I knew I was capable of. Lauren Jauregui was my target and she unknowingly invited a predator into her home. I walked in with an open mind, unsure of whether or not that shy, quiet sweetness was genuine or just an act put on by a talented newcomer.

Within a few minutes I had my answer.

When I landed on Lauren's doorstep, it was with the intention of throwing myself at her mercy. I was prepared to grovel at her feet for a chance to put her on the record and get the interview no one else could. I remember praying in my car before walking up to her front door. I prayed for a miracle, for Lauren to be the kind of woman that would be merciful and grant me an interview out of pity.

Instead, the Fates smiled on me. In a twist generally only found in romantic comedies, Lauren mistook me for a candidate her manager sent over to be her personal assistant. It felt like the good Lord was smiling down on me. Surely, I thought, it was a sign that I was in the right place at the right time. So I did what any young reporter with questionable morals would do; I played along.

I let her believe I was that to be her assistant. It seemed like a fantastic opportunity. She got an assistant out of the deal and I would be able to observe and question her. I could bide my time, question her little by little so she didn't get spooked or suspicious.

"Camila, dinner!" Gran calls again. "It's not gettin' any hotter!"

I stop rereading my article and get off the creaky, old bed I've been sleeping on. That's a more to be said before I'm finished, but it's a good start and it feels good to get it all out. I go down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Gran is sitting at the table, dressed in black slacks and a leopard print top. She might be in her eighties, but she doesn't dress like it.

"Sorry," I apologize as I take my seat.

"Glad you could finally join me," she smiles.

"I've just got a ton of words all in a hurry to get out," I explain as I pick up my fork. She's made shrimp and grits.

"Camila, you can tell me if it's none of my business, but why did Lauren Jauregui call here for you?" Gran asks. "I know something's been plaguing you, and now I'm wondering if it has something to do with her."

"It has everything to do with her." I set my fork down again and tell her the whole story from start to finish, minus the part about being molested because that's not crucial to the story.

"Oh... Well, that is a pickle," she says and leans back in her chair. "So... she asked you to come work with her again? Even after learning what you were up to? I'm very disappointed in that, by the way."

"I'm a terrible person, Gran. Deep down I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I ignored it. The worst part of it is that she's a really good person. She doesn't deserve what I did. I can't fathom why she would want me to come back or how she could ever trust me again," I tell her.

Gran chuckles and says, "Sweetie, that's simple. She's clearly in love with you."

"What? No," I laugh. "Gran, she's not in love with me."