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potentially sharklike Hollywood assholes who wanted to make a movie about Ed's ordeal after Carmen's murder.
    He promised Ben he'd stop by their new house the next weekend. He swore to Mimi he'd make next month's Friday night Power Dinner. He made a lot of promises he knew he'd have to keep before he'd jumped in his truck and headed for Tacoma.
    Everyone thought it was proof of Jim's excellent character that he did so much for Ed. Visits, calls, money—only Terry and Jim's accountant knew about the money—whatever the other man needed, Jim took care of. He even had a local handyman on his speed dial who'd run over to take care of things so Ed didn't have to.
    Jim didn't mind carrying the burdens. Ed had a lot; he could use the help.
    Others did what they could, but Ed's trust of Jim extended into areas beyond baskets of food and monthly check-up phone calls.
    Jim knew Ed was dying.
    Insult upon injury, the life of Job. An exam a few months ago revealed Ed had advanced pancreatic cancer, and the only person outside of his doctor who knew was Jim.

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    Tere Michaels

    Along with the prognosis, Jim knew where Ed's will was, what funeral home he wanted to be handled by, and where the deed to the plot where Della and Carmen were buried was kept. During the last visit they'd discussed what Jim would do with the house and the truck.
    Ed dealt with the whole thing matter-of-factly. In the grand scheme of life, it wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to him.
    Jim met his realism with his own brand of protective stoicism. They were quite the pair, that was for sure.
    Sometimes Jim wondered if it wasn't misplaced guilt, not just over being unable to see justice served but his own issues with his father, who lived in Vancouver in an upscale nursing home with around-the-clock care and the best of everything—provided by strangers.
    Or maybe guilt he hadn't done more to put Tripp Ingersoll in jail. Or just killed him some night, weeks after the trial; old-fashioned vigilante justice with Jim pleading temporary insanity. He knew, with shame and sureness, that if Ed had asked or given permission, he could have done it.
    So it was a lot to do with guilt, his relationship with Ed. Too many shades to put a label on.

    * * * * *
The writer and the actress were nice, almost too nice. Daisy Baylor was a bona fide movie star—even Jim had seen her in a few things, and he only went to the movies… Well, he never went to the movies—all shiny gorgeous with perfect, tumbling red curls and a dress he suspected cost more than all four of his last snow tires put together. She was affectionate and kind to Ed, and Jim watched him light up for the first time in…possibly for the first time ever.
    The only thing that came close was when Ed got into the occasional melancholy mood and decided to talk about Carmen and Della. Jim suspected that Daisy Baylor reminded Ed a bit of Della in her heyday, the years before things got ugly, with Carmen getting into trouble and eventually running away.

    Love & Loyalty
    25

    That, combined with the advancing of the cancer, no doubt put into Ed's mind that he wanted to make this deal now.
    Jim understood, but he didn't like it.
    The writer—Drake—had the right pitch. It was the perfect note to hit with Ed. It made Jim suspicious. All that honesty? That earnestness? That pleading note to his voice? Must be fake. Must be.
    He was also handsome in a geeky sort of way; Jim suspected a sharp sense of humor under all that preppy showcasing. He also knew with dreaded certainty if they met in a bar that Griffin Drake would be one of those nameless blowjobs. Unfortunately, they'd met in the real world, and Jim just wrote him off as someone to be watched—carefully.
    After they left, Jim and Ed sat for a few hours speculating on how this process would go down. Jim wanted to argue the point, but then Ed—as Ed was prone to do—dropped the latest bombshell in Jim's lap.
    “You're gonna be the executor of my will and