Page 117 of The Golden Boys
“This what you’re doing now?” My teeth grit together upon asking. “You ran out ofgoodgirls to screw, and had to start digging in the trash? Because that’s exactly what this one is. Trash. Straight out of the gutter.”
Again, he just stands there, clenching his fists.
“Do you care even a little about what this can do to your reputation?” is my next question. “Getting yourself caught up with one of the school’s charity cases? Playing with south side filth isn’t a good look for you.”
Boy’s head’s as hard as a brick. Hence the reason I fight to keep him and his brothers in line. They need me. Whether they realize it or not. Even if they hate my methods.
“How could you possibly know that?”
His question catches me off guard and I don’t miss the growing suspicion in his eyes.
“How could I know what?” I ask with a frustrated sigh.
“That she’s not from North Cypress?” he clarifies. “That she’s from the other side of town?”
Shit.
I’m usually very careful with my words, only saying things I mean to say. It’s an art I’ve mastered, but West is usually the one to catch my slipups. Little shit is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and usually asking the wrong questions. Like now. In my anger, I screwed up again.
Royally.
I don’t immediately have an answer, which only makes me look guiltier, I’m sure. His expression shifts and it’s hard to read. The uncertainty that creeps in has me on edge, though.
“You don’t even have to say it,” he suddenly interjects. “I’ve known for months.”
I feel the tension in my brow, and right away, my thoughts are on the phone in the safe. The one I’ve secretly suspected West had already snooped through. Now, I’m more certain than ever.
“Son, you don’t understand what you saw. It—”
“How long?” he cuts in. “How long were you screwing her? What’d you hold over her head to get her to sleep with your old ass?”
It’s at this moment that I see where his mind has taken him. Only a boy would assume the obvious, but in this situation, it suits me that my son is a bit naïve. That he believes I only have one flaw—my weakness for young, pretty blondes.
Straightening my suit jacket, I hold in the triumphant smile that almost gives me away. Kid doesn’t even know he’s just given me the upper hand again. So, I play the part, pretend to feel shame for having been found out.
“West, I—I always intended to end it,” I grovel. “Things between Blue and I are … complicated. They have been for a while now.”
“She’s fucking eighteen,” he shouts, showing more of his cards than I think he means to. Showing that he does, in fact, have one hell of a soft spot for this girl. All this proves is that I’ve taught him nothing.
“I know,” I add with an air of regret, “Which is why we stopped for a while. She was seventeen at that time and I didn’t feel right about things.”
His face twists with anger and I welcome the idea of him being disgusted by me. Having him think I stuck my dick in some underage slut is better than having him know the truth.
I place my hand on his shoulder, knowing he doesn’t want me near him, and he shoves it off like I expect.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns. For a second, I think the kid might actually have the balls to swing, but he seems to think better of it and settles down.
“Son, you must know I didn’t plan any of this. I love your mother,” I remind him. “But—”
“Men will be men, right?” he cuts in, quoting a conversation we had a few weeks earlier.
Feigning remorse, I nod. “I’m not perfect.”
“Truest shit you’ve ever said,” he scoffs.
“I didn’t intend to tell you all of this.” When I lower my head, I impressmyselfwith how genuine this is coming across.
He can’t even look at me, and I’m okay with that. The boy’s resilient, bounces back from these sorts of things like they never happened. Just like his old man.