Corrupt

by Chase Potter

  I never wanted to take James’s deal all those years ago, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice. And now? I’m stuck between two terrible choices. Risk losing everything – my freedom and the only family I’ve ever known – or protecting myself by destroying Alex and his career. Alex, the only person in this fine fiasco to not have committed an actual crime. I draw in a ragged breath and with it comes that same name. Alex. I never intended to fall for him, never wanted to hurt him.

  But I did.

  My eyes shut, bringing the darkness in my condo even closer yet, and my last thought haunts me.

  I try to force my breathing to become steady, but nothing changes. Inside, the anger starts small, a tiny whisper of frustration, but it grows. It swells and my hands clench into fists on the counter. My knuckles frost over with white, and sweat leaps onto my palms. None of this was supposed to happen.

  I wasn’t supposed to have to protect Carson from his own parents, I wasn’t supposed to have to cheat and break the law just to keep him under my roof, and I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with the man who has the power to bring my life crashing down.

  Rage rises within me, a torrent and a flood, and my feet drag me out of the kitchen, through the living room draped in the shadows of a winter night. I stop at the mantle on the wall lined with collector’s editions and rare sets. Then I reach out and gently lift the one in the center, the recreation of the Death Star. It’s flawlessly assembled, just like every other set I own. I made sure of that. I followed the instructions meticulously, then checked and rechecked the final product. Every piece is in exactly the right place, forming an orderly construct.

  My fingers are careful, and I gingerly tip the creation on its side as I examine my favorite details. Just as I have so many times before. But this time something is different.

  This time my world is breaking.

  My muscles tense, and I throw the Death Star as hard as I can, and for a moment it hurdles through space as it never has before. An immaculate flight for the briefest moment in time. A beautiful contradiction if there ever was one. Then it smashes into the refrigerator and shatters.

  The next seconds are consumed by the tinkling sound of Lego pieces bouncing and skittering across the floor. The sound continues far longer than it should, but finally silence reigns once more, and I feel like I’ve just broken a piece of myself.

  My next realization is a dark one: it felt good. If only I could keep smashing the parts of myself until there’s nothing left inside.

  I glance away from the debris field of the kitchen floor and back to the mantle. I wonder how much I’m going to regret this later. Maybe it doesn’t really matter. I need this right now.

  My fingers are still tingling as my gaze travels outward, to the city below my building. It’s a sprawling web of lights, a hundred thousand points of orange and white that stretch into the distance. It’s a city that has always had something more important on its mind, but not tonight. Tonight it’s watching me and me alone, and I’m not going to disappoint it. Tonight my world is breaking.

  I take a breath and lift the Millennium Falcon off the shelf.

  * * * * *

  “Holy mother of hell.”

  My fingers cling to the Yoda figure, the one I decided was too much for my office, and only reluctantly do I look up. I’m sitting on the floor, my back pressed against the wall of windows. Carson’s eyes are wide as he holds the front door open. The sweep of the door cleared the section of floor where he’s standing, but everywhere else is littered with the remnants of broken starships.

  Carson steps warily into the condo, and bits of Lego crunch beneath his shoes. The door thuds shut behind him, and he asks, “Bad day?” His tone is made up of wary sarcasm that seems more scared than joking, and I don’t blame him. I’ve never done anything like this before.

  When I don’t answer, he says, “Matt?”

  Somewhere, somehow, I find my voice. “I got a little carried away.”

  “No shit.” Carson drops his backpack onto the kitchen table and walks toward me. Crunch, crunch, crunch. His arms hang at his sides as he stares me down. “You going to explain what’s going on?”

  I consider for a moment what that would look like. Well, Carson. I bribed a public official years ago and now I’m being investigated by the very district attorney I’ve been fucking lately. James wants to blackmail the shit out of him, but I’d rather keep falling in love with him instead. Now I’m trying to decide whether I like him more than I like my life outside of prison.

  I shake my head.

  Carson watches me as he prepares a verdict. “This is fucked up, Matt. You realize there’s a giant dent in the refrigerator?”

  “The Death Star,” I explain, my voice weak.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but then he seems to reconsider. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I’m going to clean this up. You want the pieces in a box or the trash?”

  “You’re really okay with this?” I hadn’t actually thought about how Carson would feel walking into this mess, but maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s being so cavalier about it. He’s always had a cool head.

  Carson shrugs. “It’s almost time to make dinner, and with the floor covered in Legos, I’d probably slip and fall on my ass.”

  “It’s Lego, not Legos,” I argue weakly.

  “At least you haven’t gone completely crazy.”

  I glance up at him. Carson, my half-brother and the person I love more than anything else in the world. He just looks back at me, patient as always.

  I sigh, and my voice is soft as I finally say, “We should talk.”

  He gives me a hard look, indecision playing in his eyes. Then he holds out a hand to help me up, and I’m nearly overwhelmed by the emotion rising in my throat. I set my hand in his, our palms pressing together, and then he pulls me up. “Couch?” he says, and I follow him.

  We sink into respective seats at either end of the sofa, and then we wait. We wait for me to find the courage to tell Carson what I’ve done. I try to swallow, but it stops dead in my throat and I wince.

  “You okay?” Carson’s face is lined with worry.

  “I just need to get all of this out.”

  He gestures for me to go ahead, and I do. I tell him that my first few years of honest work barely got me anywhere. So when the opportunity for a big break, I bribed my way into getting a contract. I tell him that business was suddenly good, I tell him about knowing all along that I’d only gotten to where I was because I cheated and broke the rules.

  All the while, Carson just lets me talk. Eventually I finish, and Carson is quiet for several moments. When he speaks, his words are colored with a wistful sadness, “You did it because of me, didn’t you? All those trips we went on, the summer camps, the cooking classes…” His voice fades into his thoughts.

  My words catch in my throat. Carson has always been perceptive. “It had nothing to do with that,” I say, trying to find his gaze. It’s not quite a lie and not quite the truth.

  He won’t meet my eyes, and he doesn’t answer.

  I scoot over and catch his chin with my hand. Only then does he look up, and he’s already got tears running down his cheeks. I drop my hand and realize that he’s such a better person than I am. Only Carson would blame himself after the confession I just gave.

  “Carson. You had nothing to do with this,” I insist. I want to say more, but I’m afraid to.

  He’s still watching me, and tears are still slipping down his face one by one. “Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me the truth, Matt. I know you try to hide it, but you’re clever as shit, and nothing you do is frivolous. You must have had a damn good reason to break the law, and I want to know what it was.”

  I cross my legs beneath me and turn so I’m facing him directly. Just a handful of inches separate us, and Carson is defiant. It strikes me how brave of a young man he really is.

  I pull in a deep breath. “Okay,” I say softly, and the guilt of what I’m about
to say burns through my memories and my chest alike. Soft words cradle my confession. “I wasn’t prepared to take care of you.”

  He sniffs, and I hear the wet sound of sadness.

  But I’m not done yet. “I wasn’t ready for the legal fees, especially when your mom tried to get you back,” I admit, hating to drag up the memory of that particular custody fight. It was drawn out, and in the end Carson had to insist to the judge that he wanted to keep living with me, which is probably the only reason that he did.

  Carson mumbles something, but I don’t catch it.

  “What was that?”

  Reluctance pulls at his expression, but finally he meets my eyes. “You did it to keep me.”

  The torn parts of me seem to mend together, if only for a moment. My words are soft and honest, and I know he can hear it. “I wouldn’t trade the years with you for anything, Carson. I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had the choice. I was never going to let you go,” I finish quietly.

  His eyes rise, dancing along a tentative edge. “Really?”

  I reach out to touch him, my palm resting against his face and my thumb drifting over his cheek. “Of course.” And then I pull him into my embrace. I hold him, for too many seconds and not enough. We might be a messed up family, but we’re still a family.

  Eventually Carson pulls away, but something still seems to be bothering him. Not that I blame him after everything I’ve just unloaded on him. He nibbles his lip, glancing at me and then away again.

  “So…” The syllable is there and then it fades. He’s silent so long I begin to worry he won’t finish. He swallows, and this time he doesn’t look away. “So what about Alex?”

  Now I’m the one wearing the uncomfortable expression. “What about him?”

  “You do actually love him?”

  It’s an easy answer to find, but not as easy to say. “Yeah… I do.”

  Carson nods, then speaks as simply as if he were rattling off a recipe, “So don’t let him go either.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s possible.”

  Deep in thought, he takes his time to answer. “The thing you should probably do now is get a lawyer, right? Assuming you’re not going to break more laws and blackmail him or whatever.”

  Heat leaps into my face, and I regret telling Carson as much as I did. “Yeah, lawyering up is probably the smartest bet at this point.”

  “So… what if you did the opposite of that?”

  I stare him down. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re getting at, but whatever you’re suggesting… it could mean I get sent to prison. You’d be taken by social services.” I take a breath. “I will do whatever it takes to keep us together,” I insist. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, you know that.”

  Carson observes me, his expression serious. “I’m not worried about going anywhere. Another year and I’ll be in college. I’m talking about Alex.”

  Indecision fights with the rational part of me. “What about him?”

  Carson wears a smile that’s almost sad. “Fight for him like you fought for me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Cold seeps into the entryway of Alex's building, and I shift the paper-wrapped bundle into one arm as I dial the number for his apartment. The intercom machine makes a noise like static and then it starts to ring.

  Alex won’t take my calls or respond to my texts, and I suspect he blocked my number. It’s been four days since he confronted me in my office, but the police haven’t smashed down my door yet, so I’m not really sure what to think.

  “Hello?”

  “Don’t hang up,” I say the moment he picks up. “We need to talk.”

  He doesn’t hang up, but he doesn’t say anything either. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, and the package I’m carrying crinkles against my coat.

  “Hello?” I ask.

  There’s a distant sigh, and then he says, “I’m here.”

  More silence.

  “Are you… going to let me in?”

  “I’m still deciding.”

  My heart fires off beats even faster, and then the call abruptly ends in another flare of static. I stand there for a moment, feeling like a fool. A sad fool. Alex really hung up on me.

  I glance back at the intercom panel. I could call him again.

  But I won’t. I venture one last look into the lobby beyond the glass, and then I turn to leave. Heat rises in my face, and a thick feeling takes hold inside me. I can feel the wet in my eyes, I can feel it welling up. From somewhere inside the emotion fills, dripping piece by piece down my cheeks. It drags trails toward my chin, and the lines turn cold against the air.

  With a hand resting on the exit door, I just… wait. I wait because I can’t move. I can’t let him go like this. He’s better off without me, but I can’t let him go.

  Out of nowhere, an aggressive brrrrrr noise leaps out of the entry buzzer, and I jump. The sound continues, and I do an about face. Before the door locks again, I push through. If nothing else, I have a chance.

  Taking deliberate steps toward the elevator, I ride it up to his floor and walk toward his door, holding tight to the bundle tucked safely under my arm.

  Alex opens the door and looks me over. He looks just as pissed and hurt as the day he stormed out of my office, and I’m struck by the overwhelming urge to put my arms around him. “What do you want?” he asks.

  “Um, can I come in first?” My eyes plead with his.

  He frowns, but he stands aside to let me in. “What is that?” Crossing his arms, he stares at me and the package as I shut the door. My face burns, and the relief that Alex actually let me in his apartment is fading fast. Being with him — being here — was always so easy. Somehow I thought it would be that way again. If only I could get him to let me in, if only I could get to this exact moment, then all the other bullshit would fall away. The world outside would go screw over someone else and leave us alone.

  But I was foolish, like always.

  “Can we sit down?” I ask.

  Alex shrugs with a cold apathy. “If you think that will help.”

  I can feel the worry lines spring to life in my forehead, but when I don’t answer, he leads the way to his kitchen table. Not bothering to take off my coat, I take a seat across from him and set the package on the table.

  “Well?” he demands.

  I take a deep breath, wishing this would be easier. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I begin.

  Alex is impassive, not budging a single emotional inch.

  “I just…” my voice seems to lose itself, and I get the feeling he’s ready to ignore whatever I tell him. I can’t blame him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try at least. “The last couple months we’ve spent together aren’t like anything else I’ve ever experienced. Whatever happens, I want you to know that.” I pause, and somehow my teeth manage to get ahold of my lower lip and start to nibble. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it means much now, but… I love you, Alex. I really do.”

  Cold silence, but slowly thawing. Maybe.

  “I wish I could believe you,” he finally says, and his eyes rise to find mine. “Like, I really wish I could. But how much of an idiot would that make me?” He lets go of a long sigh. “You’re a smart guy, Matt, I know that. And I know you’re here because you don’t want to go to prison.” Alex shakes his head, and more than anything he just seems sad as hell. “The unfortunate irony is, I bet you’re probably more concerned about Carson than you are yourself.”

  If I were here to do what he thinks I’m here for, he would be right. It makes me want to remind him of his words from one of those first times when I was here. When he said that caring so much about someone else made me worth getting to know. The memory hurts as I drag it from the past.

  When I don’t answer, Alex’s expression changes subtly. His voice ventures softly into the room, as though it might get caught in a dark corner. “That’s what I thought.” He hesitates, and I can tell his concern is genuine. “It’s
really too bad, because the last thing I want is to see Carson put into foster care, even if only for a short while.”

  I have a nagging fear that I’m making a terrible mistake, but Carson’s words keep me planted in my chair. Fight for him like you fought for me. I close my eyes, remembering why I’m here. Why I’m really here — because Alex is worth fighting for. He’s worth putting myself on the line to convince him. He’s worth it a hundred times over. I know it, and Carson knows it.

  “I came here tonight because I don’t want to lose you,” I say quietly. “Not to protect myself or even Carson.”

  A wistful silence slips into the dining room with us, mixing with the warm lights and the winter dark. “I really wish I could believe you.”

  It’s small, but I grab onto it. “Do you?”

  Alex watches me, considering it for a moment. Finally he exhales in resignation. “You weren’t the only one to start falling in love,” he whispers. “You have no idea how much I wish this had happened differently.”

  My voice is barely there, but I still manage to say, “Me too.” And then I push the wrapped package across the table toward him.

  He glances from me down to the object wrapped in brown paper. “What is this?”

  “It’s everything.” Everything I was supposed to shred but didn’t.

  Alex raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

  My fingers are shaking, and damn it if my voice isn’t too. This is the secret I’ve agonized over for years, trying to protect it however I could. “To prosecute. It’s the why and what and how and when and who. The developer contracts, bank and payment receipts, copies of the missing city records of the denied variance requests and subsequent approvals. It’s everything you need for a conviction.”

  Alex’s eyebrows crunch up as he stares down at the package before looking back to me. “Why?”

  It’s because I could tell him a thousand different ways how much I want to be with him, but it would never mean a damn thing if he thinks I’m just trying to save my own ass. I take a breath, and when I let it go, I say, “I don’t want to hide anything from you anymore.”