Love & Loyalty (22 page)
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The idea of this movie being made into a spectacle, the idea of Ed's family being raked over the coals like that. He stared at the room of dark-suited people and felt his heart break.
* * * * *
“Ed spoke of you so often,” Reverend Peller said. “He was as fond of you as if you were his own son.”
Jim's throat closed up, and he nodded. “Thank you. That's quite an honor.”
“You've done so much good for Ed, Jim. I don't think he'd mind me saying thank you and God bless.”
Jim clapped the man on his arm and led him to rest of the crowd, unable to go further than a murmured “thank you.” Terry caught him near the kitchen and pulled him to the back door.
“Listen, don't freak…”
“Oh, God almighty, what?”
“There are reporters outside. The truck just pulled up…”
“Terry, I swear I will rip their heads right off.”
“I called the local sheriff, and he's coming out to deal with it. One of them was asking if I had a comment about the movie news, and I had no idea what he was talking about.”
“There's some legal shit going on. Griffin's dealing with it,” Jim lied/hoped.
“Okay. Just so you know.”
“Right. Thanks, man.” Jim left Terry to the reporters and headed for the back bedroom, determined to find out what was going on, on Griffin's end. The door was locked, so he knocked urgently.
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“Griffin? There are reporters here,” he mumbled through the crack.
The door unlocked, and Griffin stood there looking shocked, as if he'd seen Ed's ghost on the other side of the doorway. “What?”
“Reporters…here. We called the sheriff.”
“Hang on,” he said into the receiver. “There are reporters here. Do you want to… Yeah? It's up to you. All right, Daisy Mae.” Griffin hung up.
“Daisy said she's taken care of everything this time. No screwups, no more games, Griffin said wearily. “I can't promise what that means, but she swore it.”
“Do you trust her?”
“No. Maybe.” Griffin shrugged. “I used to. Maybe I should one last time.” Jim tried to stay mad at Griffin, but nothing held fast; he pulled him into his arms as the other man shook with worry.
* * * * *
Jim stood near the door.
“Hey, is Griffin Drake in there?” one of the reporters called out. “He available for a statement about the announcement from Bright Side Studios?”
“Griffin!” Jim called into the house, his boyfriend appearing with a large tumbler of scotch in hand. “Someone said something about an announcement from the studio.”
“How do I look?” Griffin asked, shoving his drink into Jim's hand and fixing his hair. He looked slightly disheveled but went out the door without waiting for an answer. Jim followed, stashing the scotch on the front steps.
“Griffin Drake here—someone looking for me?” Griffin called breezily.
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“Hey, Steve Winzer, Entertainment Spotlight. I just got a call that said Bright Side is announcing they're moving operations to Germany in the next year, with all U.S. projects on hold or being sold off.”
“I can confirm the move,” Griffin said coolly.
“Are you still with the studio?”
“No, no. Taking my personal projects elsewhere. I of course wish Claus and Daisy and everyone at Bright Side Studios the best in their future endeavors.”
“Of course.” Steve laughed. “The Ed Kelly project moving ahead? I heard they optioned Ingersoll's book for a movie as well.”
“No idea about that either. Except that the Ed Kelly project is moving ahead with another studio without any input from Tripp Ingersoll.”
“Which one?”
“Oh, come on, Steve, like I'm giving you anything else. Call my agent, and we'll set up something when I make the official announcement.”
“I'll take it.” Steve shook Griffin's hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now the sheriff is going to kick you out. No hard feelings.”
“I'm used to it.”
His cool demeanor slipping, Griffin turned and walked past Jim.
“How much of that was bullshit?” Jim murmured, catching up with him.
“Like ninety-eight percent. I gotta get back on the phone. Oh, and call Liddy—tell her to shred whatever documents Bright Side sent over to the office.”
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Chapter Twenty-five
A few hours later, the house cleared out for the last time. People were carrying mementos Ed had carefully marked for them, plus leftovers. Heather, Nick, Terry, and Jim sat in the living room when the place finally emptied out, nursing the end of the coffee and cake.
“Is Griffin okay?” Terry asked finally.
“Business crap,” was all Jim would say, but he nodded. “I think he'll be fine.”
An hour later he said good-bye to his friends and found Griffin asleep on the bed, the phone lying next to him.
Jim got out of his suit and lay down next to him, exhaustion pricking at his eyelids even as he desperately wanted to know what was going on. An irrational part of him wanted to shake Griffin awake, but the drawn expression was impossible to miss.
He must've dozed, because movement on the bed caught his attention as his eyes opened.
Griffin was packing his bag.
“Where are you going?” Jim croaked as he sat up.
“Back to LA,” Griffin said quietly. “I have some loose ends to tie up.”
“Like what?”
“Like finding a studio for my project. Finding a part-time job. Valet or dog shampooing.” He laughed, raw and tired.
Jim got off the bed.
“What happened?”
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“I used every cent in my bank account to buy Ed's project, plus they now own my car, my condo, and the place in Aspen. Claus squeezed everything out of me he possibly could. Then I terminated my contract at Bright Side.” He was talking to himself now, methodically putting himself and his bag together.
“Stop, stop.” Jim put his hands on Griffin's shoulders and turned him around. “Stop, okay? You don't have to worry about money.”
“Yeah, I kinda do.” Griffin wouldn't look him in the eye.
“Griffin, I have money. I can give you what you need—hell, I'll give you the money back for Ed's movie, okay? And the no-contract thing—you wanted out, yeah? So you're out. Now you can change your career.”
“She gave up everything,” Griffin interrupted. He shook his head. “She gave up everything. I have stuff to sell. She's got nothing.”
“She? Daisy?”
“She offered him a divorce—no fault. No alimony. Not even the fifty percent she's entitled to of the studio. Just so he would agree to my offer. Jules said she packed her suitcase and left, and no one knows where she is.”
“Oh God.” Jim felt the reality of the situation settling over him.
“Listen…the important thing is you're out of there and you can make your own decisions now. Except for you leaving right now—I'm totally overruling that.”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“No, I'm using boyfriend's prerogative.”
“Boyfriend?”
“It's late and I'm delirious. I make no promises about what words I use in the light of day.”
* * * * *
“Okay, I lied. I'll probably say boyfriend in the morning too.” 186
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“That's cool.” Griffin paused, a dark shadow against Jim's shoulder. “Also, I still love you.”
“Thanks.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
“You don't even know why I'm saying it.”
“It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, just don't be sorry. Life's too short.”
* * * * *
His ashes were being interred at the gravesite where Della and Carmen were. Griffin asked about visiting, but Jim put it off. He needed to get back to his life as soon as possible before he decided never to leave.
The ride back was quiet. Griffin still seemed shell-shocked from his complete change of circumstance.
“I'm unemployed,” he kept saying, seemingly at each mile marker, until the morose tone gave way to something lighter. More optimistic. “I'm an unemployed screenwriter.”
“Luckily your boyfriend is a trust-fund baby.”
“Hey, wait—it's daylight! You said boyfriend!” Griffin actually laughed then, and Jim felt his job was, for the moment, done.
* * * * *
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“Let me put this stuff in the fridge…” Griffin yawned, leaving his luggage.
“Nah, let me. I'm hungry.”
“Again?”
“You want me to fix you a plate?”
“Yes.”
Griffin pulled two bottles of water and two beers out of the fridge—and a handful of napkins off the counter—and headed upstairs. Jim watched him go, and a thought happened into his mind, sauntering in with a casual stroll.
He belongs here.
Jim set out two plates and started filling them up. His brain darted about from worry to pleasure to a plan to another worry to that sheer panic induced when Jim thought about a close relationship.
“Hey, don't go crazy,” Griffin called from above; Jim looked up to see his boyfriend peeking through the rails. “But you know that apple crumb-topped thing… There's some room on the plate.”
“You want it warmed up?
“Nah. Get your ass up here.”
When Jim got to the top step, Griffin was lying spread-eagle on the bed in his underwear, watching the ceiling fan.
“Seriously, I love your bed.”
“It's a great bed. You should, uh…you should sleep in it more often.” Griffin raised his head. “Well, I
am
unemployed, so…” Jim put the plates on the dresser. “Yeah. And you have no place to live.
You could just…stay here. If you want.”
“James Shea, did you just ask me to move in?”
“Too soon?”
“No. I mean—for you? Yeah, I'm guessing this is soon, but…you know, since you asked…”
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“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. Just because I'm unemployed and homeless and all.” Griffin sat up, his expression lighter than Jim had seen in days.
“Right. This is about saving money.”
“And you clearly need someone to keep this place from falling into disrepair.”
Jim smirked as he handed Griffin his plate. “I found a dust bunny the other day…”
“Oh, dear God. Someone call public health.” Griffin scooted over enough to give Jim room.
“We're eating in bed again.”
“I know. It's okay. Live dangerously.”
Jim dug into the leftovers with occasional sips of the beer Griffin brought up. This was nice. He could get used to this.
He was used to this.
After they finished, Griffin took the plates downstairs. He threatened to wash them, just to show what a potentially good roommate he was, and Jim yelled, “Boyfriend!” and Griffin came back up, laughing.
Jim was never going to get tired of that.
“Come to bed,” he said, and Griffin clearly knew he didn't mean to sleep.
It'd been a long few days of stolen kisses, and both of them needed more.
“Nothing crazy, I have a metric ton of food in my stomach,” Griffin muttered, lying on top of Jim and nuzzling his jaw.
“Romantic.”
“Reality.” Griffin kissed him then, long and lewd, opening his mouth and twisting their tongues together with hot pressure. His hands drifted up to hold Jim's head in place, not letting him have any control over the kiss, forcing him to take it.
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That was the sort of reality Jim wanted. His hips bucked up as he reached down to hold Griffin's hips in place. Two could play this game—and they could both benefit.
Jim rolled them to their sides, kicking away the blanket and sheet. Their legs found a perfect scissor after a second of fumbling, hard and urgent thrusts as Griffin fucked his mouth with deadly precision.
He came up for air only long enough to murmur Jim's name, tip his head back, and come with a damp rush against Jim's thigh. It was the sexiest thing Jim had ever seen.
Griffin leaned his head on Jim's shoulder, his body still moving, but as much as Jim wanted the release, he wanted more to press his mouth against Griffin's ear.
“Iloveyoutoo,” he murmured.
Griffin, blessedly, didn't make a big deal. He wrapped his arms around Jim tightly, kissing him again with a fierce might, pulling the orgasm from Jim's body demandingly.
He didn't say anything afterward, but there was no mistaking the huge smile on his face as he fell asleep.
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Chapter Twenty-six
Jim spent a week meeting with lawyers. His father's lawyers, the PBA lawyers, the city lawyers. So many lawyers he started dreaming in legal speak by Wednesday.
Everyone said the same thing—Ingersoll didn't have an actual case, it was publicity, and a judge would probably throw it out at some point. What that point was, no one could tell him.