Blame It on the Shame (Blame It on the Shame: Lou-Lou and Ricardo's Story #1) (2 page)

Regardless of all that, I still kept my nose in the books and stayed to myself.

Of course, I thought about girls, but I was always too nervous to approach them.

Too afraid of rejection.

I'd suffered enough of that from my father already.

Which was why I suppose he thought bringing me to a brothel was something he needed to do.

“Pick any whore you like, son,” he said. “Hell, pick any two you like if you think you can handle it.”

The women were gorgeous, no doubt. But something about it all didn't feel right to me.

Like the fact that he was addressing these women as mere objects.

And no matter how stunning the women were, I really wanted someone who wanted me for
me
. In spite of who I was or what power my father wielded. I wanted this moment to be special.

Then I got a look at
her
and all that fell by the wayside.

She gave me a 'come hither' smile and sauntered over to me in her pink lingerie.

She also ignored my father completely, which was the
first
thing I liked about her.

She was older than me by a few years but that didn't matter. Her coppery red hair fell by her shoulders, and her ivory skin was so creamy, I wanted to put her in a cup of coffee.

“What's your name, honey?” she asked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father smirk. His smirk was usually an approval of some kind.

“R-Ricardo.” Of course, my voice would pick
that
exact moment to stutter and crack. I silently cursed myself, cleared my throat and looked at her.

“You're very handsome. Did you know that?” she purred.

I shook my head because I honestly had no idea I was even remotely attractive at that time.

“You want to come in the back and get to know me a little better? I can teach you some things you'll never forget.” She held out her hand. “I heard you're quite the student and you pick up on things easily.”

Yes, yes I did.

I immediately took her hand and followed her to some room in the back. I couldn't care less about being my father's son at that moment. I wanted her.

An hour and a few lessons I'll never forget later, I'd lost my virginity to some 25-year-old named 'Ginger'. The act itself only lasted 5 minutes, but I didn't care.

I was
hooked
.

Sex was even better than boxing. And
nothing
was better than boxing as far as I was concerned.

As we were getting dressed, she confided that she knew all about me thanks to my father. Apparently, he was her favorite client and vice versa.

That's when I realized that Bruno and I had something else in common besides a love of fighting.

Women.

When we headed back out to his black Ferrari, he lit up two cigars and handed me one.

“Ginger said you reminded her of me. That means you're one step closer to becoming a man,” he said.

I didn't know how to feel about that so I stayed silent.

He appeared to be in deep thought before he uttered his next statement. “I never thought I'd say this. But you've really proven yourself to be worthy of carrying the DeLuca name these past few months. I'm proud of you, son.”

I smiled.

Then fear hit me like a punch to the gut.

It was the first time he ever said he was proud of me.

It was the first time I ever felt happy to be his son.

It was the first time I ever thought he might actually love me.

And I wanted that.

One week before I turned 18, my father enlisted my help for a very special assignment.

I was supposed to look after one of his new guys during one of the drug runs. My father wanted me to get a feel for him.

Up until that point, I wasn't allowed to do the big runs myself, I had to earn that privilege. But the fact that my father thought I was capable of handling small runs and valued my judgment meant something to me.

My father trusted me.

Which, was unheard of when it came to Bruno DeLuca.

I didn't know much about the guy I was supposed to be watching. He only disclosed that his name was Graham. He looked like an all-American guy, maybe even a surfer dude with his blond hair and hazel eyes.

In other words, he looked nothing like my father's other men who worked for him.

He was also more of an observer, rather than a talker. Unlike his annoying ass buddy, Ford who was nothing but talk.

Graham being an observer was something I could appreciate because I was the same way.

I liked to watch how situations unfolded first, get a feel for it, then logically plan my next step.

My mind was like one big chess board. I never made a move without thinking about all the possible outcomes. I thought with my head first, not my heart.

It was the safest way to stay ahead of the game as far as I was concerned.

Even though I could appreciate the quality in Graham, it didn't mean that I wasn't concerned.

You see, being an observer meant he was a thinker.

And you didn't need to think about much when it came to a small sized drug run. The rules were simple, make sure you don't get caught and get the money.

Besides, he was with
me
, DeLuca's son. He knew I was going to handle everything. What the hell did
he
need to think about?

But, there he sat in the car beside me, silent...not saying a word.

Anticipating my every move out of the corner of his eye while he pretended to read his book.

I had the sneaky suspicion that he was a cop. But I had to be sure, so I started grilling him.

“What did you say your last name was, Graham?” I asked.

He studied me for a beat before replying, “I didn't.”

I crossed my arms and stretched my legs as much as my now 6'3 ½ frame would let me. Especially in a car like
this
.

My father was a big fan of Ferrari's, being he was Italian and all.

Personally, I hated them. I only drove the one he gave me because I needed a set of wheels and there was no way in hell he was going to let me buy the Shelby GT500 red mustang I had my heart set on since I got my license.

I arched an eyebrow. “So, what
is
your last name?”

He matched my stance. “What's yours?”

I laughed. “Ah, you're funny, you wanna be wise-guy. You already know I'm DeLuca's son.”

“I meant what was your last name
before
he claimed you as his kid?”

I put my hand in my pocket and felt for my gun. “How do you know about that?”

He held up his hands. “Look, it was only a rumor I heard. Obviously, you're very sensitive about your father being an asshole.”

My mouth dropped open. None of my father's men would
dare
to ever speak so freely about him like that. Especially in front of his one and only son.

The guy had a set of balls on him.

He shrugged. “I'm just saying. Any man that refuses to acknowledge their own kid for the first 11 years of their life is an asshole in my book.”

“Do you have kids?”

Something flashed in his eyes but he didn't answer my question.

I took that as a yes.

I leaned down in my seat. “Our relationship has gotten much better over the last two years.”

Graham sniggered. “Is that why I overheard him giving you shit about getting another A in your English class and being up for valedictorian?”

I scrubbed a hand down my face, trying my hardest to deflect the hurt I felt. I couldn't help that I did well in school and that I liked to read.

Graham continued, “I believe his exact words were—I will not have my son looking like a pansy-ass wimp while he's praised for being a nerd. You better fail your next test or else.”

“Yeah, so what? He’s just concerned about my image.”

Graham barked out a laugh. “Last time I checked, any decent parent would be ecstatic over their kid working so hard in school. I know I would be over the moon if my little Goblin ever became valedictorian. Hell, I was proud as anything when she finally learned to tie her shoes the right way.”

That's when I laughed. “Your little
goblin
? What the fuck is
that
?”

He blanched but lifted his chin. “The most important person in the world to me. And that's all I'll say about that,” he said before frowning. “You have some real potential. You're better than this life. You're smart...you're not like him.” He paused. “You
don't
have to be like him.”

I rolled my eyes. “What is this shit? Some sort of after school special or a drug run?”

He shook his head. “You're not cut out for this life, kid. I feel it in my bones. You're meant for something better than
this
shit.”

“You're wrong,” I whispered. “DeLuca's on his way to becoming the most powerful man in New York...most men would consider it an honor and a privilege to be his son. Most men would consider it their saving grace.”

I hiked a shoulder up. “Besides, there's nothing I can do about it anyway. I'm his one and only son. He's has my whole entire life planned out.”

He took a deep breath and continued reading his book, some
Stephen King
novel in the
Green Mile
series. “That's a travesty. You could have done some real good things in your lifetime, Ricardo.”

After that, we stayed silent and completed the drug run.

But I knew with utmost certainty...that he
was
an undercover cop. I think he knew I was on to him, but he took the risk talking to me anyway. That's how important it was.

Cop or not, I couldn't find it in my heart to rat him out.

With the exception of DeLuca, no one had ever given a fuck about me or my future before.

But this guy seemed to want the best for me, and he didn't even know me.

Maybe he was right...I didn't have to be like him.

The next time we saw one another, he brought his novel and continued reading.

“You like to read, too?” I asked.

“Stephen King's my favorite. Great author.”

I nodded. “Yeah, he's one of the best. His book, 'It' and 'The Shining' are awesome. I read them both in 5
th
grade.”

He glanced up at me from over his book. “Impressive.” He crinkled his nose. “Although, that must have been a little scary for a 5
th
grader.”

I made a face. “My father's a mob boss. I learned at an early age not to be scared of anything.”

“Fair enough,” he said while rubbing his chin. “Damn, my Goblin just started the 5
th
grade. She'd be scared out of her mind if she ever started reading
Stephen King
now.”