Page 12 of Bourbon Truths
“I wish I was, kid.”
“Can’t I dispute this?”
“You won’t be able to prove it wasn’t your fault. Who takes supplements without a label, Kace?” The disappointment in Dale’s voice made my stomach turn over.
“I trusted him,” I said softly as I sank farther into the cold ground.
“You can’t trust everyone, Kace.”
Advice that had come a little late, I thought, resting my head against the hard oak of the kitchen cabinets. The tightness in my throat constricted my ability to talk, and the throbbing in my head was almost overpowering. A lonesome tear ran down my cheek as the realization hit me that I was done. The one true thing that gave me happiness was over. My boxing days were finished.
“What’s going to happen?” I asked, not really wanting to hear what Dale had to say.
“A story is going to run shortly. Your sponsorships are already pulling. You’re cut from the circuit, and your title has been stripped. You’re boxing days are over. I’m sorry, Kace.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said right before I ended the call and buried my head in my hands, knowing fully well I’d lost everything I’d ever worked for.
Chapter Five
My Present…
“Would you like another?” the bartender asked.
I pushed my empty glass toward him. “Yeah,” I mumbled, not making eye contact.
Finding a place in New Orleans to live that wasn’t overpriced or mildewed or infested with rats was proving to be harder than expected. I’d looked over six different options, and none of them came close to what I was looking for.
Thinking about going back to the hotel where I would be pestered by the girls almost made it tempting enough to shack up next to the local rat’s nest, but I did have my standards. I wasn’t about to trade in the posh life for one that was far below what I was used to. I wasn’t a princess by any means, but fuck, a little hot water would be nice.
The bar was empty other than two men playing pool off to the side. It was a bar I came to when I wanted to get away from it all. From the nagging of the girls I worked with, the control issues Jett had, and the hustle and bustle of the French Quarter.
Tourists got annoying quick. Add the fact they were usually drunk and high-risk projectile vomiters, and it was hard for me to enjoy the unique nightlife New Orleans had to offer. Plus, with my past haunting me, I still ran into the occasional know-it-all of the boxing world. Their favorite thing to do was harass me about my past. What little they knew.
That was why I liked it in my quiet bar: no tourists, no Jett Girls, just peace and quiet.
“I knew we would find you here,” a voice came from the entryway of the bar.
Diego and Blane, my friends, approached. So much for peace and quiet.
“How’s our boy?” Diego asked, slapping me on the back and pulling up a chair next to me. Blane did the same.
“Your boy wants to be left alone,” I replied, grabbing my drink from the bartender and taking a large gulp.
“What do you have there?” Diego asked, leaning over and sniffing my cup. To my dismay, he stuck his finger in the liquid and then tested it on his tongue. “Ahh, whiskey. I’m surprised it’s not bourbon.”
“Bourbon is Jett’s thing,” I mumbled while the tumbler was cradled between my hands. I kept my head down so Diego would get the hint I didn’t want to talk.
“Where is Jett? Is he here?” Diego asked, looking around.
“No.”
Grabbing the bartender’s attention, Diego responded, “Fuck, you’re in a mood.” Turning his attention to the bartender, he said, “Can I get two fingers of whiskey and a Stella for the douche?” Diego said and pointed his thumb toward Blane.
“Thanks, snookums,” Blane joked.
“You ordering drinks for him now?” I asked. I continued to look into my glass, wishing it would refill on my demand. “You’re living together, you’re ordering for each other—what’s next? Are you going to start fucking on center stage?” Diego owned a club called Cirque du Diable where he employed Blane. The place was actually fascinating, with its old-school circus theme. Once it opened, it would probably sell out every night.
“Who says we haven’t?” Diego responded casually, causing me to lift my gaze to him.
