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Three weeks later, by chance, I saw the cameraman who’d been with the reporter that day He was a favorite of mine beca

use he didn’t delight in sending his editor the pictures of le “What happened to your friend as so interested into sound friendly “Fired,” the photographer said “I beg your pardon?” He was pushing new batteries into his caain, then looked up, not at me, but at Jimmie

Wisely, the photographer said no more And just as wisely, I didn’t ask any more questions

Jimmie and I had an unwritten, unspoken law: I didn’t interfere in whatever Ji

“Like a Mafia wife,” my sister said to me about a year after Jimmie and I were married

“Jier

That night I told Jie with littered in a way that, back then, I hadn’t yet learned to be wary of

A month later, my sister’s husband received a fabulous job offer: double his salary; free housing; free cars A full-tihter, three maids, and a country club membership were included It was a job they couldn’t refuse It was in Morocco

After Jimmie’s plane crashed and left me aat thirty-two, all the : that Ji” None of his billions—two or twenty of them, I never could remember how many—none of it was left to me

“Are we broke or rich today?” I’d often ask hi on what Ji at the moment

“Today we’re broke,” he’d say, and he would laugh in the same way as when he’d tell me he’d made so many millions that day