Page 3 of Cocky Cruiser

I knew Chance would be worried, but I needed to prove I could make it on my own. He’d spent so much of his life looking out for me, and I wanted him to focus on Aubrey and their son. He deserved a happy ending after everything I’d put him through.

“I think we should take Aubrey and Chance to the stadium,” I suggested as we ate dinner.

My brother grimaced. “You just want to embarrass me, don’t you?”

“No.” I scoffed. “I think it would be nice for them to see where you played.”

“I played one game, Adele. Not anything to brag about.”

I frowned at my brother. “Stop minimizing your accomplishments. Not everyone gets to play professional soccer.”

Aubrey agreed. “I think it’s a great idea.” Turning toward baby Chance, she cooed, “Isn’t that right, sweetheart? We’d love to see where Daddy played soccer.”

My nephew giggled, melting away my brother’s indifference. He smiled. “Okay. But only because I want to start my son at a young age.”

Aubrey laughed. “Barely walking, and you already have soccer plans laid out, huh?”

“Of course. It’s in our blood. He’ll be a natural just like his dad and granddad.” My brother directed his attention to his son. “Ain’t that right, champ?”

Baby Chance clapped his hands and babbled some nonsense, making us all laugh.

“It’s settled then. We’ll catch a game at the stadium before we leave,” Chance announced.

After dinner, I went to my room to get ready for my night out with Jeannie. Then I hopped in our rental car and headed to Back Alley Sally’s.

Jeannie was already at the bar when I arrived, and she waved excitedly as I walked in. I made my way through the crowd of people to where she was sitting at the far end of the bar. When I reached her, she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me tightly. “I’ve missed you, you cunt.”

Laughing, I hugged her back. “Feeling’s mutual.”

Jeannie looked the same as I remembered: dark red hair in a pixie cut, deep brown eyes, and eclectic style. She’d always been prominent in Melbourne's art scene and was one of the more successful street artists in town.

We sat down at the bar and ordered our first round. Then Jeannie laid into me. “So, what the fuck is up with you moving to the States and dropping off the map? I haven’t heard a word from you since you left.”

“I know.” I sighed, feeling like the shittiest friend. “I fucked up, Jean. I got into some really bad shit in the States and didn’t know how to tell you.”

My friend’s angry expression morphed to concern as her eyes searched mine. “We’ve been friends since we were in knickers, Adele. What couldn’t you possibly tell me?”

I looked down, fighting the swell of emotion. Guilt, embarrassment, and shame constricted my chest, and I shook my head. “I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Jeannie tipped my chin up to look at her again. “I could never think less of you. You’re like a sister to me, Dellie.”

A small smile tipped my lips at her nickname for me. Taking a deep breath, I tried to build up the courage to tell my oldest friend what I’d done. “You know my dad’s death hit me hard.”

Squeezing my hand, she watched me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. “Well, when I got to the States, I got mixed up with the wrong crowd and started drinking a lot and doing drugs.”

My stomach was knotted with nerves as I paused to take a drink. “And I mean the hard shit, Jeannie; meth, heroin, crack, you name it. I started dating this drug dealer so I could easily get a fix. I was shooting up whatever drug I could get every day, several times a day, and I did some fucked-up shit just to get high.”

My eyes clouded over with tears. I took a deep breath to force them back, not wanting to make a scene in public. I was thankful the music and background conversations filled the bar so people couldn’t hear my confession. “When I didn’t have money to pay, I paid with my body.” My voice wavered as I spoke. “I was a crack whore in every sense of the word.”

I was so disgusted with myself. I couldn’t believe what I’d done only a few years prior. Trading sex for drugs was by far the worst thing I’d ever done. “My boyfriend had a rivalry with another drug dealer. One night, he came to my house, and he … he…” I trailed off, choking back a sob.

Jeannie had tears welling in her eyes as she squeezed my hand again, giving me comfort as well as the strength I needed to finish my sentence. I took a deep breath. “He beat and raped me.”

My friend gasped, her free hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God, Adele.”

“That was around the time when Chance moved to the States. When he found out, he lost it. He confronted the drug dealer I’d been dating to get information about the guy who raped me. The asshole wouldn’t give it to him, and Chance attacked him. He almost beat him to death.”

“Serves him right,” Jeannie remarked.

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