Love & Loyalty (15 page)
“I'm drunk and pissed, Daisy. Go back into the house and leave me alone,” he said stubbornly, stepping back from her.
“Pissed about what? I should be pissed. Claus showed up, you disappear into a corner
sulking
, and then you leave without saying good-bye. What kind of friend are you?”
And really, that was the tiny droplet that sent the reservoir overflowing.
“What kind of…” Griffin wished to God he had something to throw at this moment. “What kind of friend am I? Are you fucking delusional? Tell me something, Daisy—when were you going to tell me about the prenup?” For a second he saw a glitter in her eyes, like she was calculating a lie, but when her head dropped, he knew he'd get the truth—or at least a version of it before she cried or threw a fit so he'd back down.
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“I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd be upset,” she started, but Griffin couldn't hold his tongue.
“Smart move, because I'm furious. Goddamn it, Daisy—you had a chance to get away from him, to get out of this stupid life that sucks you dry, and you stayed? Worse, you signed away everything to stay, and then what? You whine to me about how bad it is, how much you want more out of life, and we take on this project…”
His voice trailed off, and a sudden realization almost rocked him off his feet.
“If you signed away the prenup, that means Claus owns everything.” Daisy bit her lip. “Yes.”
“That means Claus technically owns the Ed Kelly project.” Griffin's face went ice-cold, his heartbeats tripping over each other until they actually started to hurt his chest.
“You don't have to worry; he doesn't know about it.”
“But he will, Daisy, he will. And when he does, he can do whatever he wants with it.”
Claus and Bright Side were not known for their sensitive, artistic films—
and Claus was not known for letting things like outbidding him for a project on the sly go by without retribution.
“He won't care.” Daisy crossed her arms over her chest; he could see her pout, and it made him nauseated.
“He won't care you went behind his back, used his money, and got the hottest property in town on your own? Really? Are you new to this world, Daisy? Because I can remember about a hundred people parking cars and shampooing dogs in this town because Claus got pissed at them and made sure they didn't find work again.”
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Tere Michaels
“God, why are you so dramatic tonight? He's got his new girlfriend to think about, he won't care about anything but her for a good long while,” she said dramatically.
“I know she's a fake.”
Daisy's eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“I talked to her, I talked to Jules, and I know she's a fake. Is Claus really that worried the new
Master Fighter
movie is going to tank? Worried about market shares? Gotta keep everyone in the news? This is such bullshit.”
“Jules shouldn't have told you any of this, Griffin. I didn't want to upset you…”
“You leave Jules out of this. I don't want you to even give her a hard time, Daisy—I'm totally serious here. She's been more of a friend to me tonight than you have.”
Daisy went into full lip quiver, her eyes filling with tears. “That's unfair.
You don't know what it's like living with him and dealing with all the bullshit, Griffin. You think you do, but you don't.”
“Then you should have left when you had the chance.” She shook her head. “Right. Because there are so many opportunities for me outside of this. Producers knocking down my door, bemoaning the lack of thirtysomething actresses who do their best work naked. You have no idea.” Griffin was incredulous. “What is this? Have I been talking to your clone all these months? We've been working on this, Daisy—the Ed Kelly project, remember? But see, I've been working under the assumption we were on the same page.”
“Don't worry about your project, Griffin—I won't let anything happen to it.” She was humoring him, and that just set him off further. He felt completely used—by the last person he could ever imagine doing this to him.
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Headlights swung over them as a black sedan waited at the gate twenty feet away; Griffin thanked the gods for perfect timing and began walking toward the car, ignoring Daisy entirely.
“Griffin!” Daisy called after him.
He kept walking.
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Tere Michaels
Chapter Seventeen
Jim changed the sheets and brought the laundry downstairs to put the last load in before bed. He felt tired but accomplished, a good feeling to take between the covers with him. There was even another day of his weekend off to enjoy…although that was puzzling him a bit. What to do with a Sunday when you had no chores, no work, and no company.
He considered calling someone in the Cabal, but he knew Terry and Mimi had “plans,” Heather and Nick were doing wedding stuff, and well, he hadn't had much luck in working up the courage to spend time with Ben and Liddy.
While his best friend had no idea, Jim still churned with guilt over his crush, half nursing his idolized version of Ben and half wondering what in the hell he had been thinking.
It was embarrassing. No one knew except Matt in New York, but it was still cringeworthy.
So that left him alone for Sunday.
As he measured detergent into the machine, a thought crossed his mind, a wild, wild thought about calling Griffin, but he chased that away.
He closed the machine, turned to go into the kitchen for something to eat before bed, and the phone rang.
“Shit,” he muttered. A ringing phone at midnight meant work for a homicide detective. He was surprised they called his landline, but he grabbed the receiver and barked, “Shea.”
“Uhhhh…Drake?”
“Griffin?”
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“Jim?”
Jim laughed. “Yeah, it's me—sorry for that. I thought it was work.”
“So I'm guessing right and you were awake?”
“Yeah.” Jim paused. Something sounded off. “You okay?”
“Yeah. No. No, not really. Hey, can I ask for a favor?”
“Sure.”
“If I showed up on your doorstep tomorrow, could I hang out and write on your sofa? I swear I'll be quiet and really clean.” They'd talked hours before about Griffin coming back, but this didn't sound like a request for a long date. It sounded like a place to hide out for a while.
“You on the run from the law, son?”
“No. Just avoiding everyone I know for a bit. That cool?”
“Sure. You need me to pick you up at the airport?”
“My flight gets in at one o'clock.”
“You got a gate?”
“You got a pen?”
* * * * *
He considered things that might be wrong and came up with nothing. He didn't know the other man well enough to guess and didn't have enough experience with “relationships” to venture a hypothesis.
He considered things to do to cheer Griffin up and came up with grilling steaks and sex.
He hoped that was at least a good start.
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Tere Michaels
But Jim clearly needed a little assistance.
* * * * *
“Unfunny.”
“Hilarious, actually.”
Jim heard noise in the background—kids' voices, the television. Matt calling that he was on the phone and please keep it down, and then a door closing.
“All right. I made it to relative safety and quiet, but I gotta warn you, we have a Little League game at eleven.”
“This isn't going to take that long.” Jim was exasperated and embarrassed and feeling silly. “I just have a question.”
“Go. Wait, lemme get comfortable… Okay, hit me.”
“I wish I could.”
“Har, har. So is this movie-related?”
“No, and sorta. I'm, uh—I think I'm dating the guy who's writing the movie.”
“You think?”
“I am.” Jim looked around the living room to make sure no one had materialized to overhear.
“And how are things going?” Matt was clearly delighted by this news.
“Good, pretty good. I like him. He's a good guy to hang out with.”
“Wow, that's some gush for you.”
“So we haven't known each other long, and he's coming to stay with me again…”
“Again?”
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“Yes, again.”
“Hmmmm.”
“You're an ass.”
“Get to the problem, Detective, or else I'll have to brush off my interrogation skills.”
“He called last night, and he seemed really down.”
“Okay. Did you ask him what was wrong?”
“No, I asked him if he liked cats—of course I asked. He doesn't want to talk about it.”
“Uhhhh-huh. So we've established he's a typical man. Proceed.”
“He's flying in today, and I just wasn't sure what I should do.”
“Pick him up at the airport.”
“Matt…”
“No, seriously.” Matt laughed. “Pick him up, take him to eat, be a buddy.
Then get him into bed. If he wants to tell you, he will. If not, at least you'll be showing him you care how he's feeling.”
Interesting—that was pretty much what Jim thought. Good first instincts, at least.
“That's it?”
“Or you can strap him to a chair and interrogate his ass. I know you know how to do that.”
“Awww. You sound like you miss it.”
“I don't have to miss it. Katie is attracting miscreants like mosquitoes. I'm considering the purchase of a taser.”
“That's very domestic in a weird sort of way.”
* * * * *
Tere Michaels
luck at the end of their conversation, and Jim was thankful his stupid smile was unseen by the other man. It seemed ridiculous for a forty-five-year-old man to be this confused over how to handle serious dating.
After he hung up, Jim felt a little bit steadier. He changed into jeans and a T-shirt, took some steaks out to defrost. The apartment all but gleamed in the sunlight through the tall windows—showroom perfect but a bit…stiff.
All the art and pictures belonged to Ben, and they'd left when he moved out. Jim had repainted but never replaced anything else, so now he had perfect, gleaming beige walls and that was it.
Even a picture of dogs playing poker would liven up the joint.
He faithfully wrote down
buy stuff for walls
on his perpetual to-do list on the fridge, then grabbed his keys. There was time to kill before he met Griffin's flight, but Jim was too anxious to stay inside another second.
* * * * *
Angels & Demons
—purchased at a magazine stand along with an iced tea—waiting for Griffin's plane. It was engrossing enough to keep him from checking the arrival screen forty times a minute for an entire hour, which made it worth every penny.
When the flight from Los Angeles was announced, Jim gathered up his book, sticking it under his arm as he approached the arrival gate. He tried to look casual, which made him feel distinctly
un
casual, crossing and uncrossing his arms until it looked like he had a serious tic.
Thankfully Griffin's head appeared in the departing crowd, and Jim relaxed enough to smile and give a little wave.
Griffin seemed lost in his thoughts and didn't notice Jim until he reached the end of the ramp. When he saw him, a grin appeared, making Jim feel like approximately five million bucks.
“Hey,” he said, hauling a small suitcase behind him, another bag over his shoulder.
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“Hey, that's all you got, or do we have to go to luggage claim?”
“No, this is it.” Griffin's smile wavered slightly. “Thanks for picking me up, by the way.”
“My pleasure. Actually I was trying to figure what to do today, and your call was perfectly timed.”
“Well, I will do my best to be entertaining.” Jim shrugged. “I'm pretty easy to please. I'm just glad you're here.” That seemed to break Griffin's smile down further, so Jim brazenly reached down and took his hand. He couldn't work up the balls to actually kiss the man, so he hoped that would be enough—for now.
“I'm, uh—thanks, Jim. I kinda needed to hear that.” Griffin laughed nervously. “Can we get going? I haven't slept yet, and I'm about to face-plant on this lovely carpet right here.”
“Yeah, come on.” Jim didn't even ask; he just grabbed the handle of the rolling suitcase and urged Griffin toward the escalator.
* * * * *
He understood silence better than most people, and he recognized Griffin was processing; chatter wouldn't do anything but piss him off at this point.
Jim parked and grabbed both bags this time; Griffin murmured, “Thank you,” and followed him upstairs with ever-dragging legs. They just about made it into the loft before Griffin's eyes were closed, even as his body kept moving under Jim's urging.
“Upstairs,” he said, leaving the luggage near the door. “Just keep going; I'm right behind you.”
Griffin got up the stairs and even got his shoes off before crawling under the covers; he mumbled something like “I missed you, bed” before burying his face in the pillow and shutting off like a light switch had been flicked.