Conklin's Corruption (#3) (Conklin's Trilogy) (16 page)

Her fingers paused for a moment then she began fumbling again.  I took her hands and tried to explain what to do.  Her first attempt was awful, but gradually she got the hang of it.

Her grin was wide as she looked up at me.  “Hah!  Third time’s the charm,” she said proudly while resting her hands on my chest.

I smiled down at her as silence passed between us.  Her smile never faltered as she cautiously brought her hands to my face, running her fingers along the just more than scruff on my jaw.  The moment was tender and well needed.

“Maybe I should shave,” I contemplated.

“Nah, I think it’s hot,” she flirted, biting her bottom lip.

I took a deep breath, noticing the fire in her eyes.  That look had an effect on me that she couldn’t possibly understand.  She desired me, but I wasn’t ready.  I still didn’t trust myself.

“We should get going.  Most likely we’ll run into traffic once we hit Chicago,” I said while clearing my throat, gently removing her wrists from my chest.  She nodded, her smile fading as she walked past me to her side of the walk in closet. 

I let out another deep breath, feeling like shit for denying her.  It wasn’t an easy task either, especially when I watched her bend down to put on those damn black heels.  I didn’t think she liked wearing them, but holy hell did they make her legs seem long.  Her nose was to my chin when she wore those suckers.  Confining the bulge in my pants from the effect those heels and her sleek, form fitted black dress was becoming very difficult.

“Do you want me to make you anything quick?  Grab a power bar?” she asked kindly as she slid by me to the bedroom.

“No, I’m fine,” I said following her, willing my eyes to not greedily travel down her body.

“I’ll grab one just in case you change your mind then we can go, okay?”

I nodded my head as though she could see me while putting on my sport coat.  I was going to be sweating bullets in this thing.

I was lost in my thoughts in the Maserati as we drove down the highway, wondering who would come and what each ass kisser would say.  I didn’t feel like dealing with business people today offering their bullshit condolences.  Everyone who did business with RJ knew he was a slime ball and only gave a shit about money but would act differently.

“What time did you tell your mom we would pick her up?” Becca asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Nathan’s bringing her.”

“Tyler,” she scolded.  “Your mom wanted us to bring her.”

I rolled my eyes thinking back to the funeral home last night when we were making arrangements for RJ’s casket to get to Chicago.  My mother was all over me, hounding me about what to do and bugging me to talk to her.  I was sick of her whining and crying.  RJ was the biggest cheating prick to her.  Why she was so upset was beyond me.  I begged Nathan to take her the long three hour drive to the funeral home instead of Becca and me.

“Nathan handles her better,” I said flatly.

“She just wants your comfort, and I think she wants to comfort you,” Becca said quietly.

I snorted.  “I don’t need to be comforted.”  My chest tightened at the words.  I was so messed up inside with all the anger and rage; I couldn’t stand the thought of someone telling me everything was going to be okay.

Becca stayed silent, not commenting. 

Just as I was getting lost in my thoughts again, her sweet voice rang through the car.  “Can I hold your hand?”  she asked while running her finger along the backside of my hand that was firmly holding the gear shifter.

“Yeah,” I said, my mood becoming softer.  She smiled and squeezed my hand, pulling it to her lap.  She used her other hand to keep drawing circles along my knuckles and wrists.  Shockingly, my mind stopped spinning and, oddly enough, her gentle touch was comforting the entire ride to Chicago.

***

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Conklin.”  I must have heard this over fifty times in the past hour and a half.  I nodded my head to the gentleman making his way through the line, moving to Nathan next.

“I’m going to go get some air,” I mumbled to Becca as I broke protocol and slid through the mass of people showing their respect to the owner of the Conklin empire.  We had to do this for another two and a half hours, and I was feeling agitated.

She murmured something, but I didn’t hear her.  Being in this room, the smell of the flowers and the eerie feeling of death was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but think of my grandparents’ funerals.  Especially my grandfather’s.

I stood in the hall, leaning against the wall covered in gaudy wallpaper.  I closed my eyes and swallowed, fighting that awful feeling in my chest.  Why was I feeling like I couldn’t breathe?

“Tyler?” a sphinx-like voice whispered.

“What do you want?” I growled, opening my eyes and meeting the green-eyed monster.

Margo crossed her arms and leaned on her hip while looking off into the distance.  “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m assuming this isn’t having a huge effect on you.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed off the wall, heading towards the porch.  “Thanks for your concern.”

She followed me, letting out a sigh.  “You know, you really shouldn’t hate him so much.  That man may have been one of the biggest jerks in the world, but he did care about you.  The least you could do is be there for your mother,” she barked.

I stopped dead in my tracks, spinning around to meet her face to face.  “Don’t try to fucking rile me.  That man cheated on her more times than any of us can remember.  There’s a line of them in there, maybe you should go join them and compare slutty stories.  You weren’t the only one he bent over his desk,” I said in a harsh whisper.

For once her eyes didn’t turn into slits, but grew big with pain, tears threatening.

I groaned and rolled my head back.  “Don’t act like I hurt your feelings.  You knew you were just a piece of ass to him.  Just like all the others.”

“You know, I would have expected this from you a few months ago.  Your mother said you and RJ started to hash things out, building your relationship again.”

“Again?  We never had a relationship.  I don’t know why she would tell you that because it’s a load of shit.  RJ wanted something, and thank God it fell through.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “I thought your heart unthawed with Becca.  The poor girl doesn’t know what she’s in for— a selfish, heartless bastard who acts just like his father.”

I stood tall, dumbfounded by her comment.  How dare she compare me to that asshole.  “Fuck you,” I spat, nudging past her to the deck.  I didn’t need to hear this, not today.

I flung the slider open and headed towards the railing, my chest heaving with anger.

Then I felt lost.  I looked to the sky, unable to control or understand why breathing was so hard.  Why was the sky so blue on a day that was filled with sadness for many people?

“Need a breath of fresh air?”  Detective Anderson’s voice murmured through the thick humidity.

I was startled, and I didn’t have time for his bullshit questions.

“It’s crowded in there,” I murmured.

“That it is.  Want one?” he asked, taking a puff of a cigarette.  “My ex-wife left me because of these, or so she said.  She wouldn’t admit it was because of another man.”

I watched him as he pulled out the pack from his chest pocket then extended them to me.

I studied him for a moment, trying to figure out his game.  The ex-wife comment felt personal, and I didn’t need for anyone else to try and trick me again.

Giving in, I reached for the pack, took one, then swapped them for his lighter.  The cigarette was strong, and it was a good distraction.

“You’re holding up awfully well,” he said, taking another puff.  “All of you.”

I leaned on the railing, looking out over the horizon.  “We know how to handle stressful situations,” I said calmly.  “My mother on the other hand…”

His lip half quirked into a smile.  “Women can be a little dramatic.”  I looked in his direction.  “I guess when your husband dies there can be an exception, right?  You’ve found love, I’m sure you can’t imagine losing Becca.”

My heart started to beat faster as I stared at him.  Losing Becca would be miserable.  I would have nothing to live for.

He gave me a smile.  “You really do love her, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be marrying her if I didn’t,” I said defensively.

He nodded his head in agreement.  “On a serious note.  I’d like to talk about your father’s death.  See, homicide thinks it was a suicide.”

I turned back to him.  RJ killing himself had never crossed my mind.  Even though I could picture what I saw in his office vividly, I still didn’t put together him holding the gun.

“RJ wouldn’t kill himself.”

“See, most would say that about a strong businessman,” he said as though he were weighing his options.  Anderson took two steps towards me.  “But suicide can be very normal if someone’s in over their head.”

My expression was blank.  RJ wasn’t in over his head.  At least not yet.  If he had lived to sign that deal with Chino, then he would have been. RJ had too much pride.  He loved himself too much.

We stared each other down for a few long moments.  He was so close I could see the wrinkles against his eyes.  “Like I said, RJ wouldn’t kill himself.”  I spoke the words slowly, letting the inner meaning sink into his thick skull. 
Stop snooping, dick.

He swallowed, studying my features, probably trying to read if I were telling him the truth.

Nodding his head once, he turned back to look out over the deck.  “I’ll try to have them look over it again, but unfortunately that’s how his death is going to be declared.  You seem to be the least affected by your father’s death.  I figured you’d take it the easiest.”

I didn’t say anything, taking a long hit off the cigarette.  “You want me to tell my family. I get it.”

The slider to the porch opened, and we both turned our heads in unison. 

“Hey, I’m not interrupting, am I?” Becca asked, standing timidly in the door frame.

Anderson gave her a half smile then stubbed his cigarette on the railing, tossing it out.  “Not at all.  He’s all yours.”  Anderson said calmly.  He had the nerve to hug Becca in passing.

It was official.  I hated him.

“I wondered where you went off to,” she said, eyeing the cigarette in my hand.  “I thought you only smoked cigars.”

“I told you I needed some air,” I answered then turned back to the railing.  I felt her hand on my forearm then her head against my bicep. 

She was quiet, and her presence was semi-soothing, especially when she traced circles on my forearm with her fingertips.  My agitation was dulled from the detective.  I felt like the air was finally returning to my lungs for the first time since she held my hand in the car.

“That feels nice,” I whispered, risking looking vulnerable.

“Yeah?” she said softly, continuing her pattern.

I turned to nod my head, not expecting her nose to meet mine.  “Thank you,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure if she could hear me.

“You’re welcome,” she said in the same tone, rubbing her nose against mine.

This was true peace but soon brought on that uneasy feeling I had been fighting so hard to keep bottled up inside.

“Tyler, Mom’s wondering where you are,” Mitch said, interrupting our moment. He was dressed nicer than I had ever seen him and part of me was completely pissed off that he’d dazzle himself up for RJ’s funeral and not our grandparents’.

I pulled away from Becca to dispose of the cigarette.  “I’ll be there in a second.”

I felt both Mitch’s and Becca’s eyes on my back then heard his sigh followed by the sliding door.

“Only a few more hours then the service, reception, and gravesite” Becca said gently.  I felt her hand on my back now, making the same patterns as she had been on my forearm. 

I stood tall, shrugging her arm off my back.  I didn’t want to feel soft and tender today, not for RJ.  For a moment it was comforting, but I needed to push any what ifs and guilt that I had hidden in my heart.  Her delicate way of handling me was helping those feelings surface for all the wrong reasons.

I heard Becca’s footsteps behind me as I finally went back into RJ’s funeral hall.  More people had arrived to show their condolences while I was hiding on the porch.  My mother waved me over to come stand beside her and Nathan.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked with a scratchy voice and tear stained cheeks.  She let go of Nathan’s forearm to reach for mine.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered stiffly, moving my arm to straighten my tie so she had to move her hand.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lee Chino’s voice rang through the crowd of murmurs.  When I turned to look at him, Margo was on his arm, her head to the floor.  I had never seen her so low and unconfident.

“Oh, thank you Lee,” my mother sniffed.  He leaned into her cheek and gave her a peck of condolence.  “Thank you for coming Margo.”  Margo gave her a small smile and a hug.  I ground my teeth, wondering how she had the nerve to show up to RJ’s funeral and hug his wife when she had actively screwed her husband.