Cocky Notes: A Hero Club Novel

by Leesa Bow

  The doorbell rings. I open the door and introduce myself to Greg.

  “Don’t be fooled by his friendliness to get slack on the job,” I tell him. “And please do not leave until Dad is in bed with his crutches at arm’s length. And encourage him to use the loo before.”

  “Got it.” He looks down the hall to where the soccer game is playing at full volume.

  “Come and meet Dad. By the way, there is nothing wrong with his hearing. The neighbours don’t need to hear the game, so feel free to turn the volume down.”

  “How long until you turn into a pumpkin?”

  I squint as I read the time on my phone. “An hour.”

  “Then down this.” Georgia hands me a tequila shot. “It’s been a while between drinks.”

  It’s literally only been minutes. She means getting laid, and although I have no intention of getting laid tonight, I down the shot.

  The bartender lines up salt and a slice of lemon. “Why do I do this?” I mumble and shove the lemon in my mouth and suck.

  “Because it’s the best way to get wasted.” She hands me another round.

  “I’m done,” I tell her, wiping my mouth and embracing the shiver running along my spine.

  A chuckle sounds to my left. “I find this is the best chaser,” says a guy with a voice as smooth as the Bailey’s I’m looking at on the shelf.

  I turn to meet the most amazing blue eyes. I’m caught in a haze of blue, the alcohol controlling my delayed reaction time.

  “This…” he says again and holds up a glass of beer to avert my gaze, “… works best for me.”

  I take the glass from his hand and take a few mouthfuls without question. The burp passing my lips turns heads two bodies deep at the bar.

  Georgia’s head falls back in laughter.

  “Was that me?”

  “Honey, own it. Not even I could match that one.” He smiles, and I want to listen to the way he talks. Sure, he’s hot. Copper brown hair. Chiselled chin. And man, those dimples—I’m struggling to look away. But it’s more than his good looks. There’s something about him. He has energy surrounding him, and it’s drawing me closer because I’m in need of happy vibes.

  He waves the bartender over and orders another three beers.

  Georgia has appeared on his other side. “And you are?”

  “Chance Bateman.”

  “Not drunk,” I tell him.

  He chuckles, and it’s a hearty sound. I smile, watching his dimples like they have their own stage. “Never been a problem before. In fact, I perform better without the booze.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’m talking about playing football. Came here after my team’s game, so yeah, I’m not drunk.”

  “Football?” I know enough that the AFL season is yet to start.

  “Soccer.”

  “Georgia, take a photo of us.” I hand her my phone. “My dad’s a fan of soccer.”

  “Sure, sure…” He shoots me a wink, and on him it’s sexy. “That’s what they all say.”

  “For real. I can’t wait to tell him I was chatting with one of the players.”

  “Did you win?” Georgia asks, raising the camera.

  His arm loops around my shoulder. “Yep. And we’ll be the team to beat in the finals.”

  “Rather cock-sure of yourself.”

  “Chance here thinks arrogance wins the girls.”

  I look up into another pair of baby blues and wonder if blue contact lenses were handed out at the door.

  “You AFL guys think your shit doesn’t stink,” Chance says, and slaps his friend’s back. Both hug with another mateship pat on the shoulder.

  “On this occasion, he’s not bullshitting. Chance here is the new face of Australian soccer, so he doesn’t classify as a loser.” It takes a moment for my brain to catch up.

  Georgia hands over my phone and joins the circle. “Reef Burton.” It’s like she’s speaking her thoughts out loud, which I appreciate because now I have a name.

  “Hey.” He holds out his hand.

  “Georgia,” she says, smiling as though she’s in front of a camera.

  He nods to me. “So, Georgia, you’re not on the loser friend list?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I murmur.

  “Right. Let’s run with that.” He raises his beer and, unlike his friend Chance, hot surfer guy is drunk. Maybe even more so than me. “See how long you can go without insulting anyone.” His blue eyes lock with mine. Damn, I could do him and stare into those hues all night long.

  “Okay, buddy.” Chance places an arm around Reef’s shoulders. “Not sure what’s going on here?” He glances at me, and I raise my hands and shrug.

  Reef regains his balance and unloops Chance’s arm. “How’s Adele? Your parents?”

  I back up a few paces and turn to my friend. “I’m gonna go. I have to start early in the morning, and I want to check on Dad.”

  “Are you kidding? Look who we’re hanging with. This never happens,” Georgia whines and adjusts her blonde locks to fall neatly over her shoulders. “Five more minutes, babe.”

  “I’m done. Stay if you want. I can’t risk being so hungover I’ll miss my alarm, and there’s no way I can lose my job. Even worse, if something happened to Dad while I’m out… I gotta go.” My nerves are on high alert thinking about it. Being this close to Reef Burton isn’t helping the tightness in my chest.

  “All cool. There’ll be other times. I’ll cab it home with you.”

  “Thanks.” Another time when Reef Burton and I aren’t so drunk.

  We head for the door, and I hear, “See you tomorrow, loser.”

  Chapter Three

  MACY

  An hour after opening the restaurant, Reef and his friends funnel in through the door. My heart skips a beat remembering snippets of last night, especially the way he emphasised loser to me. Like the other times, they sit at the table closest to the front window. Reef’s back is to the window, and I’m right in his line of sight.

  Every time I glance his way, I catch him checking me out right before he averts his gaze. For more than an hour, we play a game of cat and mouse. Gone is the loud, cocky guy from last night. His conversation with his teammates is a whisper.

  The guy sporting a red mullet waves me over. “Sweetheart, can we get another round of coffee?”

  “Three flat whites, a soy latte, and a skinny latte—lactose-free.” On the last word, I glance at Reef confirming his order.

  “Yes, thanks.” Then he glances down to the abstract lines and arrows on the back of the menu. He taps a pen and draws another line from C to E.

  “And how are we feeling this morning,” I say in a chirpy voice, the same upbeat tone I use with every customer. Better make nice since it’s kind of awkward.

  Reef’s focus remains on the paper on the table. His mates all shoot perky responses, and when the bell rings on the door, I hesitate in surprise and smile at the guy I met last night. Chance places an arm around my shoulder as though we’ve been friends for years.

  “These idiots giving you trouble?”

  “Sit down, Bateman,” one says.

  “I’m taking these idiots coffee orders.”

  Chance gives me his killer smile. Dimples creasing. “Flat white. One sugar.”

  When I return with the tray of coffees, Chance has squeezed in on the other side of Reef.

  “How long you staying, Bateman?”

  “Have the red-eye flight out in the morning.” He glances up to me. “Gonna miss me, sweet cheeks?”

  For the first time, Reef glances up. “Sweet cheeks?”

  “Yeah. We’re mates, in case you didn’t remember last night.”

  “What happened last night?” the guy with the mullet asks.

  “Reef was wasted, and he was paying me out, so Chance here stuck up for me.” I give Chance a subtle look, so he knows I’m messing with Reef, making a joke to smooth out the tension.

&nbs
p; Reef’s face glows.

  “You, big fella?” Mullet guy says and bursts into a belly laugh.

  Spinning on my heel, I head out back to the kitchen, leaving Reef to explain what he can’t remember.

  While I’m attending to food in the kitchen, the footballers vacate their table. I head back out and stack their plates on a tray and notice the vibe in the restaurant change. Tossing each scrunched napkin on top of the tray, I stall seeing words on a napkin placed under the sugar bowl.

  Sorry if I upset you.

  Let me buy you a coffee sometime.

  If you’re not embarrassed to hang with ‘Losers’.

  Picking up the napkin, I fold it small enough to shove it in my back pocket.

  So he’s giving me the chance to make a play. Maybe I understand more about football than I first realised.

  One more hour.

  I have checked the clock since lunch, my headache worsening by the minute. In the kitchen, I guzzle water and throw down some aspirin before heading back out to face customers. The door adjoining the kitchen and dining area swings open.

  “Hey, Mace.” Oliver waves out along with Ava and her son, Louis trailing behind. “I left some stuff here I need to read over before Monday.”

  I nod, raise a finger. “All good.”

  “Hey…” Ava walks over and stands beside me, “… are you okay?”

  “I have a headache. It will pass.” I wipe my hands, and before I sidestep her to head back out, she grabs my arm.

  “You head home. Oliver will probably hang out in the office for an hour, so I can cover for you.”

  “Are you sure?” I would normally object, only the ache behind my left eye is unbearable.

  “Absolutely.” She pulls her long brown hair off her neck and secures it with a hair tie she has on her wrist. “Louis can hang out in the office with him. You grab your bag, and I’ll let Oliver know you’re heading home. And don’t thank me. I’m grateful to you spending the extra weekend working so I can have more time with my son.”

  I grab my car keys, hop in my car, and start the engine. I let out a sigh before driving home.

  When I open the front door, I want to head straight to my room only the house is abnormally quiet. “Dad,” I call out.

  “I’m here, love.”

  I reach the lounge room.

  “Oh, no.” I race around. Dad’s lying on the floor next to the lounge, a shadow darkening beneath his eye.

  “Dad!” I gasp.

  “I’m okay. I fell and hit my head, so thought I’d wait for you to come home before I tried to get up. Didn’t want to pass out trying to stand.”

  “Why didn’t you call?” I crouch beside him checking his leg for abrasions, his arms, and chest.

  “Couldn’t reach my phone.”

  “I’m phoning an ambulance.”

  “I’m fine. If you could help me up here…” He pushes onto his elbow and grimaces.

  “I can’t risk you falling again. And taking me with you. Please lie down.” I squat beside him. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I felt off and went to stand. I reached for my crutches, and then next thing I know I was lying here. I haven’t drunk any beer, I promise. But last night when Greg left, my head was spinning, and I thought it was from having one too many.”

  “You were in bed when he left?”

  “Yep.”

  “How many did you drink?”

  “About four.” His lips press in a thin line highlighting his sunken cheeks.

  I shake my head in disappointment at myself for not checking him better before leaving for work this morning. It was early, and I understood why he wanted to stay in bed a touch longer.

  “I think you should be examined. You may have cracked a rib, or you might be getting sick. Either way, we’re heading to the hospital.”

  He looks defeated, but regardless, I call 000.

  “When was your last appointment to check the progression of your glaucoma?” the ER doctor asks.

  I dip my chin, scrolling through the calendar on my phone. Another question I can’t answer because time has slipped by, and I’ve missed some important follow-up visits. “I’m sorry.” An apology to both Dad and the doctor. I’m mortified because I’m responsible for Dad. “It’s been a few months.”

  “We’ll organise some more tests. I think it might be his sight causing the problem.”

  The doctor exits, and we wait for Dad to be transferred to a ward. My head is pounding for different reasons now. To make matters worse, I haven’t eaten since lunch, and with the stress of Dad, I need to eat something before I pass out. Leaving him in the cubicle, I search for a vending machine in the ER waiting room and find one near the exit doors. The machine dings, and my potato crisps fall. Leaning over, I hear Reef’s voice and then laughter.

  Am I imagining him in my delirious state of mind?

  Taking a step back to conceal myself beside the machine, I’m in a position to keep an eye on him. I’m thankful he’s mid-conversation with a mate. More guys walk behind him, all chattering, with Chance following last, and his eyes round as he spots me

  “Hey, sweet cheeks. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug. “Here with my dad. He fell while I was at work, so he’s having some tests.”

  He nods as though he understands. “My dad’s been in the hospital having tests the past week. He tells me not to worry and focus on my game.” He gives me a sceptical look I comprehend. “Easier said than done, hey?”

  “Yeah.” It’s nice to chat with someone who understands. “Is your dad okay?”

  “I’ll find out tomorrow when I get home. I only stayed the extra day to catch up with Reef. We went to school together, so we’re old mates.”

  “Reef’s from Melbourne?”

  “Yup. He was picked up in the draft straight from school. His mum’s having a hard time with him not studying at uni after the money it costs for private education, but hey, we all know what AFL players are paid.”

  “And soccer,” I say, moving away from the vending machine.

  “Football, not soccer.”

  “I say soccer because I can’t keep up with all the different football codes.” I raise my arms. “I have no clue.”

  He chuckles. “I get as much from endorsements and merch. I’m one of the lucky ones without yet playing a game.”

  Lucky.

  Maybe he is, financially. Chance still has problems and worries like me even if he’s never been on the field. “But wait. Didn’t you play Friday night?”

  “I’m on the roster and travel with the team. I’m one of the emergencies if another player falls ill or is injured at practice before the game. Always a perk when we play in Adelaide because I get to see these dudes.”

  I turn to the door where Reef has exited the ER.

  “He likes you. Just saying.”

  My heart flutters, and for a few seconds, I enjoy the moment. “And I like him, along with the other hundreds who fangirl over these guys.”

  He shrugs. “All part of the football journey.”

  “What about you?”

  Chance runs his fingers through his long copper fringe. “There’s a girl I met a few weeks ago. For a guy, I fall kinda hard. Cheesy, I know. She caught my eye the moment I walked into a party.”

  “So, you think you know she’s right for you even before you get to know her?” I can’t hide the sarcasm in my voice even though there’s something about Reef that first caught my eye. My spine tingles thinking about him coming to Lombardi’s for coffee. Without admitting it, I look forward to heading to work knowing he’ll be there, although I hope he forgets about the Loser thing we have going on.

  He gives me a cheeky grin, and even though it’s not a full smile, those dimples snag my attention. “Her long legs caught my eye first.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes. “She’s a model?”

  Chance nods as though it’s not a factor why he’s into her. To me, it is a factor, and why I don�
��t think Reef would hook-up with someone like me. To snare one of these guys, I assume you need particular looks and body measurements. My boobs might be an E cup, but I have the curvy hips to match.

  “She has a kind heart. A complete package. What I admire is the work she does behind the scenes with disadvantaged kids.” His dimples pop a little more with the pride in his voice.

  “I like her already.”

  “Like these guys.” He tilts his head toward the door where his friends have exited. “Today, they visited the children’s ward. Had photos and signed autographs… stuff to lift a kid’s spirit, especially those hospitalised for weeks. This morning when they asked me to come with them, I jumped at the chance to cheer up some kids.”

  “I bet it made their day.”

  “Seeing their smiles through pain was all worth it. I’d do anything to support my mate, Reef.”

  I’m not sure why Chance mentioned Reef needing support. It’s about the children.

  “I better get back to my dad. I hope your father’s results are okay.”

  He reaches over and hugs me. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a few weeks when my team has a bye round. My sister and I are meeting up with friends. We should come by Lombardi’s and say hi.”

  “Please do. Oliver would love you to bring customers.” I laugh as though it’s the only reason. Truth is, I’m glad I met Chance. He’s easy to chat with, and I could use a friend like him.

  He holds up his phone before he leaves. “I’ll add you on Insta.”

  When I reach Dad’s cubicle, I sneak in behind the curtains. He’s resting, so I sit quietly and open up Instagram on my phone. I hit the button to follow Chance Bateman. Jeepers, he has over one million followers. I search Reef Burton—five hundred thousand followers. I touch Follow and wonder how long it will take him to notice, or if he will at all.

  The doctor enters. I close my phone and stir Dad to wake. After discussing his results, it appears his glaucoma has worsened. I swallow hard, ignoring the nausea building in my gut. I’ve neglected the one person who means the world to me. To make matters worse, Dad’s blood pressure is elevated and requires further treatment.