Conklin's Corruption

by Brooke Page

  I picked through my brain. I remembered RJ talking about one with pride the very first time I went into his office. What could you do with a brick that was so special anyway?

  “Did he say what was so great about the bricks?”

  Jamie shook her head. “Who gives a shit about those bricks? If that punk ‘accidentally’ brushes against my ass one more time…” She raised her fist in the air.

  “He is a Conklin,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Ugh, Conklin men. Of course the only half-way normal one is gay.”

  We both laughed as the phone rang. “Becca Stine.”

  It was Putters. “Did you and Miss Rae forget about our meeting?”

  I looked at Jamie dumbfounded. “No, of course not. We’re on the commercial architectural floor where we discussed meeting.”

  There was a loud saw sounding noise in the background. “No, we’re meeting at my studio. I’ll be here the rest of the day.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Putters but I was under the impression we were meeting at the office… Mr. Putters?” I heard dial tone next.

  “He hung up on me!” I said, surprised.

  “Did I hear that correctly? What a pain in the ass. We are NOT working with any more artists next year to this extent. I mean it Becca,” Jamie said in a huff as she stood from the desk. “Let’s go to his freaking studio.”

  I rolled my eyes and followed Jamie, grateful for the fresh air and the distraction from Tyler’s odd mood.

  ***

  I got caught in traffic on the way home. For the first time, I didn’t have road rage. I knew Tyler wouldn’t be there yet, and part of me wanted to stall until we could be home together at the same time. I still wasn’t used to the big house all by itself in the woods. Even though Tyler had a state of the art security system installed, the darkness in the air at night was chilling, and lately I have been easy to jump at anything out of the ordinary. I needed to get better about turning the alarm on once I got home instead of leaving it off until it was time to go to bed.

  I ran through the day in my head, everything from the craziness of Tyler’s assault to the unexpected change of plans to visit Lou Putter’s art studio. His studio was more like a giant warehouse, the ones I predicted to be a lot like Chino’s fixer uppers. I couldn’t help but examine the structure of the building while Putters took us through his work space.

  He’d finished a few models, and Jamie and I were pleasantly surprised. They were well constructed, creative structures of the city. My father’s building, Riverhouse, Union Square, the Cathedral of St. Andrew. They were stunning, and I couldn’t help but think he might have a shot at winning something from ArtPrize.

  As I suspected, Tyler wasn’t home when I pulled into the wooded driveway. It was just after 7:00 p.m., and I needed to find something to do.

  I found myself going through the Arena plans. They were turning out beautifully, and I was about ready to show them to my father. I couldn’t wait to hear his opinion. I’d hoped to make him proud. His approval meant so much to me.

  I finally gave in once the sun went down, lying in bed and watching T.V. waiting for Tyler to come home, curious what his mood would be like.

  My eyes flew open with a loud crash. I bolted upright in bed, pulling the sheet to cover my chest. I was in a tank top and shorts but still felt bare. I swallowed hard, listening for other signs of commotion.

  Did I turn the alarm on? Shit, I didn’t!

  My body started to shake as I reached for my phone to call Tyler.

  I heard ringing from the other side of the house as I sighed with relief. It was Tyler making the noise. I jumped out of bed, my racing heart wanting a hug. Hopefully he would give me one that was warm instead of cold.

  I traveled through the nautical themed house, my feet comforted by the plush carpeting once I found the living room. Another crash sounded through the hall, and I was startled when I found Tyler fumbling aimlessly with a set of shot glasses on the breakfast table.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as I studied his slouched position. Another crash sounded as he slammed another shot glass on the table after pouring it down his throat.

  “Hey…,” he slurred.

  Shit. He was drunk. Did he drive home drunk?

  “Hi,” I said cautiously as I approached him.

  His tie was off and thrown on the kitchen island, his shirt unbuttoned at the top with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Want a drink?” he asked with a hiccup, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels that had maybe two shots left.

  I shook my head no. Tyler tilted his head then shrugged his shoulders, tipping the bottle to his lips. If I suspected, he killed it himself.

  “Why don’t you come to bed, Tyler?” I asked gently, reaching for his arm.

  A sexy smirk spread across his face. “You want to go to bed with me?” His arms roughly found my waist, pulling me to him. I gasped as I looked at him wide eyed.

  His mood went from attempting to be sultry to unsure. “Not sure why you’d want to go to bed with me, considering I won’t get the job done. Well, at least not for you.” He let go of me, pushing me away a little harder than I had expected. He turned to the kitchen, fumbling through the cupboards until he found another bottle.

  “Ah… there you are,” he murmured, untwisting the bottle and taking another swig.

  “Ty, I think you’ve had enough,” I said more sternly.

  He turned to me sluggishly. “I think… you’re too sober.” He snickered as he slammed the bottle down then burst into a fit of giggles.

  I rolled my eyes, moving to take the bottle from his hands.

  “Nu uh uh, Becca… this is mine. If you want one I can pull another bottle down. I know you can’t reach that high,” he snickered again.

  I furrowed my brows at him, yanking the bottle harder, but his grasp was too tight.

  “This isn’t how you need to deal with your feelings, Tyler,” I grumbled.

  He looked at me puzzled. “Feelings? What feelings? I don’t have feelings.” He gulped, completely yanking the bottle out of my hand and taking another swig.

  “I won’t let you hurt yourself because you don’t know how to deal with RJ’s death.”

  Tyler laughed whole heartedly. I was almost scared of his senile reaction. “RJ, a real actor.” He shook his head while laughing, but his expression grew more somber. “Yeah… RJ. Maybe he wasn’t such an asshole.”

  I studied him, hoping with all my heart he was finally going to open up to me, even if he were drunk.

  “You want to know who the real asshole is?” he asked as he looked at the full fifth of alcohol in his hand. “Me. Because I’m a blind idiot.”

  Silenced passed through us. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler.”

  He shook his head again, biting his bottom lip. “Yes, I am. I didn’t realize who the real bad guy was.”

  “Who might that be?”

  He looked at me, his eyes wetting. “My grandfather.”

  Now I was beyond confused. “Your grandfather?”

  “Yep,” he said, popping his lips. “My grandfather was a selfish son of a bitch.”

  “What?” Tyler always praised his grandfather. How he was a respectable businessman, always kept to his morals. He really looked up to his grandfather. Robert Senior took Tyler and his brothers under his wing when RJ wasn’t ready to grow up and take responsibility.

  “Robert Senior. So much for fucking morals.”

  “Tyler, stop it. Let’s go to bed. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  He slammed the bottle down on the counter, lowering his head so he could look me straight in the eyes. “I know exactly what I’m saying! My papa was a liar! He did bad business! And you know who covered it up? You know who almost had this Godforsaken business clean again?”

  I stood dumbfounded, not understanding what he was saying.

  “Come on Becs, you’re smart. You’ve been standing up for him a lot lately, along with EVERYONE ELSE,” he ha
lf exaggerated, throwing his free hand in the air.

  I looked to the ground. I wasn’t going to do this tonight, not while he was drunk.

  “I’m going to sleep in one of the guest rooms,” I said raising my hands in defeat.

  “RJ!” he shouted, throwing the empty bottle across the room, the glass shattering into tiny pieces. “RJ spent the last five years digging this company out of the blood-sucking hole my papa built. Don’t you get it? RJ wasn’t the bad guy!” he practically screamed. The vein in his throat was popping out, and I was frightened and speechless.

  Tyler’s hand found his cheek as he looked at me, but he was looking past me into dead space. He dragged his hand down his face, his pinky pulling down his lower lip.

  “My entire life was a lie, Becs,” he whispered. Then he did something I never thought I’d see him do. He finally broke, falling to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest. He shook his head back and forth, his lower lip trembling as he was choking back tears. He was rocking his body, confusion and turmoil behind his features.

  I knelt down beside him, contemplating if he would let me touch him. “Ty,” I whispered in desperation. “Talk to me.”

  He shook his head faster, biting his lower lip to stop it from trembling.

  “It couldn’t be that bad,” I whispered again, bravely bringing my hands to his knees. I was wracking my brain, trying to put together anything shady that had happened. “Nothing we can’t get through.”

  “You should leave me now,” he choked.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. “Why would you say that?” I asked, fighting back tears. “After all we’ve been through, you want to give up now?”

  “I’m no good, Becca. What good would a husband be when he’s in jail?”

  I stared at him wide eyed. RJ, or Tyler’s grandfather, must have been involved with Chino’s schemes. I thought back to what Connor had told me when we went to lunch, how Chino was heavy into narcotics, but they could never pin anything on Lee directly. Lee always had people to do his dirty work, and he must have been plotting for the Conklin’s to be his next pawns.

  “It’s Chino, isn’t it? Your grandfather used to sell drugs with him, didn’t he?” I whispered, gripping his knees tight with my hands.

  Tyler rubbed his eyes while taking a deep breath. “I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure. I found paperwork today with my grandfather’s signature on a residential subdivision as co-owner with Chino.”

  I stared at him blankly. What did that have to do with drugs?

  Tyler let out a long sigh. “I don’t want you involved in this.”

  “Too late. You put a ring on my finger, I’m involved,” I said sternly.

  He shook his head again. “This is business, and I won’t let you get wrapped up in something like this.”

  “Like what? I don’t understand how Chino’s drug pushing would involve residential subdivisions?”

  Tyler looked at me glassy eyed then slouched against the island cupboard, dropping his knees so his legs were flat on the floor, his arms dangled over his thighs. It was a purely drunken position. “Becca, I’m going to need to drink the rest of that bottle before I say something I’m going to regret,” Tyler slurred.

  I huffed as I stood tall over him with my hands on my hips. “You’re done drinking for the night. Either you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on or you’re going to bed.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to put my money where my mouth was. Then his eyes grazed from my face down my body, his jaw slacking as his tongue slowly traced his lower lip.

  “Still sleeping in the guest room?” he asked as seductively as he could.

  My heart beat faster as his eyes dilated, completely forgetting what we were discussing. I craved intimacy with him so badly and not just what happened in his office earlier. I wanted him to hold me and kiss me tenderly, not just hard grasps, rough thrusts, and biting.

  I slowly shook my head no, putting my hand out for him to grab, hoping he would finally come to bed with me. Before I knew what was happening, he took my hand and harshly pulled me into his lap, forcing my legs to straddle him. He had my hands pinned behind my back as his eyes devoured me from head to chest. His mouth sloppily found my collarbone, making its way towards my neck. I tipped my head backward, feeling my body stretch from him pulling on my forearms. His tongue and mouth felt so amazing, along with the controlling grip on my wrists.

  “It’s so easy to get lost in you,” he growled, his mouth finding my jaw.

  “Why won’t you talk to me,” I said breathlessly. “I want to be here for you, Tyler.”

  He nuzzled my neck then took the strap to my camisole between his teeth, pulling it down over my shoulder. His breath was loud and heavy matching mine. Once the strap was past my shoulder, Tyler’s eyes squinted, trying to focus on something.

  I tilted my head, looking downward after he released one of my wrists, his hand shakily finding the mark on my shoulder from earlier.

  “Did I do this?” he whispered in horror, staring at the teeth marks and faint bruise. It might get darker by tomorrow, but I doubted it would be bad. I wouldn’t be able to wear anything with a strap or sleeveless the next few days, but I didn’t mind.

  “It didn’t hurt,” I said confidently.

  Closing his eyes tightly, he let go of my other wrist, his head smacking back against the cupboard.

  I reached for his face, wanting to comfort him. He turned his head away from me, trying to distance himself from any emotional connection that he could.

  It tore me apart.

  “You should go sleep in the guest room,” he mumbled.

  Tears fell down my face as he said the words.

  “I want to lay with you,” I choked.

  He closed his eyes hard again. “I can’t trust myself with you right now. I need time. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

  “You’re hurting me now,” I said, catching a tear between my lips. I slowly stood, hoping he would grab me and pull me back to him, but he didn’t. He kept his eyes closed, his brows creased. I watched him with the heaviest heart I had in a long time. Soon his brow smoothed over, and his breathing became deeper. He had passed out sitting upward on the kitchen floor. As much as I wanted to pull him into the bedroom with me, I didn’t. He could sleep in this kitchen and feel like shit the next morning because he had just made me feel like complete shit as well.

  Chapter 12

  Tyler

  My life was turning into a complete whirlwind, and I had no idea how to keep myself anchored in the tsunami that was happening.

  When I woke this morning slouched against the kitchen cupboard, my clothing was disheveled and small shards of glass were all over the floor. I ran my hands over my face then checked my watch. It was 4:30am and still dark out. My head was foggy, but I remembered details of the previous hours. I can’t believe I let everything slip, that I had an anxiety attack like a little bitch again in front of Becca. How was I ever going to convince her I was fine with all of this constant hyperventilating?

  How could I tell her about my grandfather?

  My chest tightened at the thought. I couldn’t believe what I found when I started to go through RJ’s office. I didn’t want to, and I’m still not sure what drew me to that side of the office floor.

  It was like a magnet, my heart beating faster every step I took towards RJ’s office. The place where I was furiously stampeding because RJ had betrayed me exactly a week ago. Pretending to be a father, wanting a relationship. I shook my head, my anger sending tingles from my chest to my finger tips. My hand shook as I reached for the handle, expecting it to be locked like usual. Finally taking a breath, I pushed on the handle, swinging the door open.

  The room smelled overly clean, no doubt from the special soap used to clean the carpets from RJ’s… A shudder went through my body as I pictured the image in my head.

  Push it away, Tyler. It’ll only make you weaker.

  My eyes
examined the room, pictures on the wall and shelves, his tidy desk. Everything had a place, and I rolled my eyes when I saw the picture from my college graduation. I think that was one of the few times RJ had ever laid his arm around me. He was always one to put on a show for the cameras. There was a picture of Nathan and him as well, except it wasn’t from Nathan’s graduation. It was from the first project Nathan had contracted as the marketing coordinator with Conklin.

  I remembered being happy for Nathan and embarrassingly envious. The way RJ looked at Nathan in that picture was moving. A father proud of his son and what he had accomplished. RJ never looked at me that way. In fact, he had never said he was proud of me, except for… No. I wasn’t going to go there. I didn’t need to feel guilty.

  I ran my hand along the smooth mahogany, my fingers stopping at the random RJ brick dead center of the desk. I looked at it questioningly. Without thinking, I bent down, squatting in my expensive suit, my eyes skeptically looking for the notch. I reached for it, fingering the concrete until I found the knob.

  The concrete slab popped open on the side. I gulped, afraid of what I might find. I thought maybe there would be some drugs, cash, the deed to the building, but never in my right mind did I think I’d find what my fingers pulled out.

  The first item I found was a crinkled piece of paper, my jaw nearly dropping when I read the words.

  RJ,

  I’m sorry. I can’t run away with you. I can’t do that to your family. But know that I do love you. If things were different, we could be together.

  Love Always,

  Margo

  Did he love her? My teen and young adult life flashed before my eyes, trying to notice any proof of them being more. Would that have changed my mind about Margo? Before Becca, I would have been more furious with Margo, using me as a pawn to get closer to my father. Did she really love him? Or was she playing RJ just like she played everyone else?