We
all
have
secrets.
Mine
were
spread
out
to
multiple
cities.
In
between
multiple
divorces,
drugs
were
delivered
to
my
hotel
room
in
Vegas.
Coke
deals
transacted
with
quick
hand-to-hand
exchanges
under
cover
of
darkness
just
feet
from
the
calming
waves
of
the
ocean
at
South
Beach.
I’m
often
asked,
“How
did
your
wives
not
know
you
were
blowing
and
going?”
That
seems
like
a
tough
one
to
hide.
The
answer
is
simple.
I
had
a
J.D.
in
law
but
a
Ph.D.
in
deceit
and
deflection.
Other
times,
the
circumstances
helped.
I
met
my
second
wife
at
a
bar
in
Dallas
(Stan’s
Blue
Note).
She
was
a
nursing
student
at
Texas
Tech.
I
was
deep
into
my
cocaine
addiction
and
party
lifestyle.
She
didn’t
use
it
and
knew
nothing
about
it.
The
distance
made
it
easy
to
hide
the
behavior.
She
ultimately
moved
to
Dallas,
where
we
married.
She
worked
overnight
weekend
shifts
as
a
newly
hired
neonatal
intensive
care
unit
(NICU)
nurse.
My
wife
is
working
hard,
saving
the
lives
of
newborn
children,
and
I’m
working
hard
at
destroying
my
life
and
eventually
our
life
together.
The
arrangement
is
great
for
my
dysfunctional
thinking:
I
can
party
with
my
friend
and
be
in
bed
when
my
wife
gets
home.
This
particular
night
at
my
friend’s
house
is
a
rager
—
two
eight
balls
of
cocaine
for
three
people.
Morning
comes
with
the
nauseating
sounds
of
birds,
letting
me
know
to
get
my
ass
home
before
her
shift
ends.
I
toss
my
clothes
in
the
washing
machine
and
hop
into
the
shower.
I’m
an
expert
at
destroying
all
evidence
of
my
other
life,
and
the
hot
water
washes
away
some
of
my
guilt.
Suddenly,
the
shower
goes
dark.
I
can’t
see!
My
heart
rate
triples.
It
won’t
go
down.
I’m
having
a
reaction
to
the
cocaine.
I
drop
to
one
knee
in
the
shower.
Am
I
having
a
heart
attack?
Sheer
panic
and
fear.
Deep
breathing.
No
help.
I
call
my
brother
Jeff.
He
tells
me
to
bite
the
bullet
and
call
911.
If
I
do
that,
I’m
discovered.
My
marriage
is
over.
There
has
to
be
another
way.
I
run
to
the
liquor
cabinet,
chug
a
leftover
bottle
of
Cristal
champagne
from
our
wedding,
and
pray
that
the
depressing
effect
calms
my
heart.
No
change.
My
life
is
over,
either
by
death
or
divorce.
I
pick
up
the
phone
to
call
911.
A
feeling
of
faintness
washes
over
me.
It’s
the
light-headedness
of
a
sudden
change
in
my
heartbeat.
It’s
back
to
normal.
Falling
back
on
the
bed,
I
start
crying.
Not
tears
of
guilt
or
self-awareness
—
tears
of
relief
that
I
won’t
be
caught
today.
Back
in
the
shower,
I
toss
the
champagne
bottle.
I’ll
tell
the
wife
it
broke.
Throw
back
some
mouthwash
and
rehearse
my
story
of
what
I
did
the
night
before.
Within
a
year,
we
divorced.
The
marriage
couldn’t
withstand
the
secrets.
Along
with
my
career,
my
personal
relationships
followed
the
same
cycle.
Every
crisis,
whether
divorce,
loss
of
my
legal
career,
or
some
other
humiliation,
inspired
a
short
period
of
sobriety
only
until
I
felt
I
had
my
life
back
again,
or
so
I
thought.
Ready
for
more
secrets.
Brian
Cuban
is
an
attorney,
author,
and
advocate
for
mental
health
awareness
and
recovery.
He
has
spoken
at
law
firms,
conferences,
non-profit
events,
colleges,
and
universities
across
the
United
States
and
Canada.
He
also
writes
extensively
on
these
subjects.
His
books,
columns,
and
quotes
have
appeared
on
CNN.com,
Foxnews.com,
The
Huffington
Post,
The
New
York
Times,
and
online
and
print
newspapers
worldwide.
He
is
also
the
author
of
the
best-selling
book
The
Addicted
Lawyer,
Tales
of
The
Bar,
Booze
Blow
&
Redemption.
His
debut
novel,
The
Ambulance
Chaser,
was
released
as
the
#1-selling
debut
paperback
thriller.
His
follow-up
crime
thriller,
The
Body
Brokers
is
now
available
wherever
books
are
sold
and
at
www.briancuban.com.