Weathering the Storm.
Weathering the Storm.
theres a storm brewin
Weathering the Storm.
The Gig is the Gig
"Just some more coffee would be nice," Juliet wiped her nose as she extended out her cup towards her son that was standing in front of her, "If they still got any of them little cookies from this morning, I'll take some of those too."
Storm glanced over at the bed, trying to see if there was any movement but alas, he just laid there. He stuffed his hands inside of his hoodie, using his shoulder to pry the door open as he entered the dimly lit hallway.
It had been quiet all day but now it was eerily quiet as Storm made his way down the hall, tilting his head slightly as he passed each room to see if there was anyone inside. For the most part, the scene was similar to his own: a motionless person on the bed with a person or two on the side, sitting in those unforgivably uncomfortable chairs. Storm eventually passed a room that was lit with the patient sitting up, talking and being part of what seemed like a spirited conversation.
He couldn't help but smile as he finally made his way to his destination, gently touching the pot to check the temperature. It was lukewarm at best and given the day his mother had just went through, the least she could get was a fresh cup of coffee.
He poured out the remaining contents of the pot into the sink, not bothering to rinse it out or clean out the dark rings that coated the inside of his mother's cup. As the coffee brewed, Storm leaned up against one of the cabinets, taking out his phone.
He had done his best to avoid it all day since he had called Coach Yurcich that morning. He felt compelled to let his teammates know as well but couldn't bring himself to do it, figuring that the coaching staff would eventually let them know. It didn't take long for the news to disseminate and then the constant calls and messages started flowing in, with Storm sending them to voicemail promptly and ignoring them. He'd have to face the music at some point but right now wasn't it.
For now, he just poured out the coffee, grabbed a handful of stroopwafels and headed back to where he was actually needed.
…
"Looks like we're all good here then," the middle aged white man's brow furrowed as he examined the pages in front of him, "We're still just a bit nauseous?"
"I'm fine," Brandon Sr. responded, drawing an eyeroll from his wife.
"He's still nauseous," Juliet chimed in.
"That's expected," the doctor placed his pen inside of his right pocket, "If it worsens or if you feel any new symptoms come on today, you'll let me know, okay?"
"When am I getting out of here?" Brandon Sr. inquired before the doctor could plot his exit, "I'm just saying."
"I'll try to get you out of here by Thursday," he replied, "We just don't want you ending up back here, you know? Measure twice, cut once, that's the saying, right?"
Brandon Sr. had been cut and prodded enough for an entire lifetime and was ready to put it all behind him. While his mood seemed sour for the day, it was an improvement as he was practically soul-less the day before, coming in and out of his sleep only for the occasional groan and sip of water. The sight of his son sitting there, in Atlanta, Georgia on a Saturday morning, didn't help improve his mood.
He wasn't thrilled about his decision that Friday morning going in and even less so now and now, he had the time and just enough energy to reveal his displeasure.
"I can speak for myself," Brandon Sr. waited until the doctor was out of the room before addressing his wife, "How you know how I feel better than my damn myself?"
"Cut the shit," she spat back, "You've chosen a hell of a time to become a grumpy old man. It ain't my fault ain't no young nurses around to give you a bath."
The two locked eyes for a moment before bursting into a laughing fit, causing Brandon Sr. to wince as he held his stomach, "You're going to blow my stiches out, woman!"
"Don't give me no ideas," she responded, "You keep getting on my nerve and I'll rip them out my damn self. I liked you better yesterday, you was quiet as a mouse and I didn't have to hear about shit."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Worried about me when I ain't seen you eat since I came in here. What I would do for some steak and eggs right now."
"No more of that," she shook her head, "The doctor already gave me a list and we're going to be eating good in this house, yessir."
"It's more than one way to kill a man," Brandon Sr. eyes finally wandered over to his son before redirecting them back towards his wife, "Why don't you go down the road, get yourself some breakfast at that diner?"
"I'm good," she crossed her legs, "I had my coffee this morning, all I need."
"That's all you had," he said with a serious tone, "Come on, now. I got my boy with me, right, ain't that why he stayed? Get yourself something fatty and greasy and just full of goodness, on my behalf?"
"Only to spite you," she smiled as she got up, "You want anything, sugar?"
"I'm good," Storm cleared his throat.
It didn't take long after she left the room for Brandon Sr. addressed him.
"What time it is?"
"10:49," Storm replied. They'd be getting ready to head over to the stadium right about now, finishing up breakfast. Oatmeal, a protein or two and maybe some toast was Brandon Sr's guide to a pre-game meal and it never failed Storm.
"I do appreciate you being here," Brandon Sr. started, "I know it don't seem like it but..."
"I get it," he replied somberly.
"It's just....like, look here, son. The situation is what it is and ain't no new diet or surgery going to change anything. I got about six months if I'm lucky, eight if the Good Lord decide he really don't want to see my ass. While I appreciate you being here...eight months from now, you being here ain't going to do shit for me....this family or even for yourself. But being out there? Now, that, could change this family eight months from now, eight years from now. It's bad enough I'm not......I ain't going to be there, son, to see you reach what we've been working so goddamn hard for all these years. I've accepted that and soon, you're going have to too. But that don't mean everything gotta stop. I've built you up for this. Now, I ain't know it was going to be this but pushing through shit, working hard, that ain't just to score touchdowns or throw strikes. Nah, this for here right now. You're a black man in America, today ain't going to be the only tough day in your life and when I go, that ain't going to be the only tough day in your life. But the gig is the gig, you gotta see it through."
"Just some more coffee would be nice," Juliet wiped her nose as she extended out her cup towards her son that was standing in front of her, "If they still got any of them little cookies from this morning, I'll take some of those too."
Storm glanced over at the bed, trying to see if there was any movement but alas, he just laid there. He stuffed his hands inside of his hoodie, using his shoulder to pry the door open as he entered the dimly lit hallway.
It had been quiet all day but now it was eerily quiet as Storm made his way down the hall, tilting his head slightly as he passed each room to see if there was anyone inside. For the most part, the scene was similar to his own: a motionless person on the bed with a person or two on the side, sitting in those unforgivably uncomfortable chairs. Storm eventually passed a room that was lit with the patient sitting up, talking and being part of what seemed like a spirited conversation.
He couldn't help but smile as he finally made his way to his destination, gently touching the pot to check the temperature. It was lukewarm at best and given the day his mother had just went through, the least she could get was a fresh cup of coffee.
He poured out the remaining contents of the pot into the sink, not bothering to rinse it out or clean out the dark rings that coated the inside of his mother's cup. As the coffee brewed, Storm leaned up against one of the cabinets, taking out his phone.
He had done his best to avoid it all day since he had called Coach Yurcich that morning. He felt compelled to let his teammates know as well but couldn't bring himself to do it, figuring that the coaching staff would eventually let them know. It didn't take long for the news to disseminate and then the constant calls and messages started flowing in, with Storm sending them to voicemail promptly and ignoring them. He'd have to face the music at some point but right now wasn't it.
For now, he just poured out the coffee, grabbed a handful of stroopwafels and headed back to where he was actually needed.
…
"Looks like we're all good here then," the middle aged white man's brow furrowed as he examined the pages in front of him, "We're still just a bit nauseous?"
"I'm fine," Brandon Sr. responded, drawing an eyeroll from his wife.
"He's still nauseous," Juliet chimed in.
"That's expected," the doctor placed his pen inside of his right pocket, "If it worsens or if you feel any new symptoms come on today, you'll let me know, okay?"
"When am I getting out of here?" Brandon Sr. inquired before the doctor could plot his exit, "I'm just saying."
"I'll try to get you out of here by Thursday," he replied, "We just don't want you ending up back here, you know? Measure twice, cut once, that's the saying, right?"
Brandon Sr. had been cut and prodded enough for an entire lifetime and was ready to put it all behind him. While his mood seemed sour for the day, it was an improvement as he was practically soul-less the day before, coming in and out of his sleep only for the occasional groan and sip of water. The sight of his son sitting there, in Atlanta, Georgia on a Saturday morning, didn't help improve his mood.
He wasn't thrilled about his decision that Friday morning going in and even less so now and now, he had the time and just enough energy to reveal his displeasure.
"I can speak for myself," Brandon Sr. waited until the doctor was out of the room before addressing his wife, "How you know how I feel better than my damn myself?"
"Cut the shit," she spat back, "You've chosen a hell of a time to become a grumpy old man. It ain't my fault ain't no young nurses around to give you a bath."
The two locked eyes for a moment before bursting into a laughing fit, causing Brandon Sr. to wince as he held his stomach, "You're going to blow my stiches out, woman!"
"Don't give me no ideas," she responded, "You keep getting on my nerve and I'll rip them out my damn self. I liked you better yesterday, you was quiet as a mouse and I didn't have to hear about shit."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Worried about me when I ain't seen you eat since I came in here. What I would do for some steak and eggs right now."
"No more of that," she shook her head, "The doctor already gave me a list and we're going to be eating good in this house, yessir."
"It's more than one way to kill a man," Brandon Sr. eyes finally wandered over to his son before redirecting them back towards his wife, "Why don't you go down the road, get yourself some breakfast at that diner?"
"I'm good," she crossed her legs, "I had my coffee this morning, all I need."
"That's all you had," he said with a serious tone, "Come on, now. I got my boy with me, right, ain't that why he stayed? Get yourself something fatty and greasy and just full of goodness, on my behalf?"
"Only to spite you," she smiled as she got up, "You want anything, sugar?"
"I'm good," Storm cleared his throat.
It didn't take long after she left the room for Brandon Sr. addressed him.
"What time it is?"
"10:49," Storm replied. They'd be getting ready to head over to the stadium right about now, finishing up breakfast. Oatmeal, a protein or two and maybe some toast was Brandon Sr's guide to a pre-game meal and it never failed Storm.
"I do appreciate you being here," Brandon Sr. started, "I know it don't seem like it but..."
"I get it," he replied somberly.
"It's just....like, look here, son. The situation is what it is and ain't no new diet or surgery going to change anything. I got about six months if I'm lucky, eight if the Good Lord decide he really don't want to see my ass. While I appreciate you being here...eight months from now, you being here ain't going to do shit for me....this family or even for yourself. But being out there? Now, that, could change this family eight months from now, eight years from now. It's bad enough I'm not......I ain't going to be there, son, to see you reach what we've been working so goddamn hard for all these years. I've accepted that and soon, you're going have to too. But that don't mean everything gotta stop. I've built you up for this. Now, I ain't know it was going to be this but pushing through shit, working hard, that ain't just to score touchdowns or throw strikes. Nah, this for here right now. You're a black man in America, today ain't going to be the only tough day in your life and when I go, that ain't going to be the only tough day in your life. But the gig is the gig, you gotta see it through."
Weathering the Storm.
UPDATE: Auburn QB McWilliams at Jordan-Hare Stadium, expected to start
Barrett Simmons -- CBS Sports CFB Writer
After it was initially reported during ESPN's College Gameday that Auburn starting quarterback Storm McWilliams would not play against Alabama due to a personal matter, CBS has since confirmed that the Tigers starting quarterback arrived at Jordan-Hare Stadium approximately 30 minutes ago and is expected to play.
McWilliams was not with the team when they first arrived at the stadium and a source close to the situation confirmed that McWilliams is currently with the team and should be out there during warmups with kickoff just an hour away.
Freshman QB Josh Johnson was the expected starter with former starting QB Chayil Garnett serving as his backup. Auburn has yet to publicly comment on the situation and neither has McWilliams.
Weathering the Storm.
-----------------------------------------------
ALA (12-0, 8-0) | 14 | 7 | 14 | 10 || 45
AUB (9-3, 6-2) | 0 | 14 | 0 | 13 || 27
-----------------------------------------------
Scoring Summary
Quarter 1
[ALA] T. Sanders, 75 Yd run (5:17)
[ALA] S. Bolden, 0 Yd pass from S. Bolden (2:34)
Quarter 2
[ALA] X. Williams, 21 Yd pass from B. Young (4:07)
[AUB] S. McWilliams Jr, 2 Yd run (1:46)
[AUB] D. Harper, 25 Yd pass from S. McWilliams Jr (0:03)
Quarter 3
[ALA] T. Sanders, 12 Yd run (3:42)
[ALA] T. Sanders, 2 Yd run (0:00)
Quarter 4
[ALA] J. Metchie III, 12 Yd pass from B. Young (6:13)
[AUB] Z. Capers, 39 Yd pass from S. McWilliams Jr. (3:36)
[ALA] W. Reichard, 47 Yd FG (2:24)
[AUB] E. Swain, 65 Yd pass from S. McWilliams Jr. -- 2pt failed (1:32)
----------------------------------------------------------------
#19 Auburn Tigers
QB Storm McWilliams: 28 of 41, 413 yards, 3 touchdowns, interception, sacked 2 times, 8 carries, 12 yards, touchdown, fumble.
HB Tank Bigsby: 9 carries, 24 yards, 6 receptions, 29 yards.
WR Caylin Newton: 7 receptions, 73 yards.
WR Donnie Harper: 5 receptions, 89 yards, touchdown.
WR Ze'vian Capers: 4 receptions, 97 yards, touchdown.
WR Eddie Swain: 3 receptions, 101 yards, touchdown.
Weathering the Storm.
Shoulda stayed with pops
Weathering the Storm.
Storm? Call that boy Drizzle.
Weathering the Storm.
Overcast and a little chilly McWilliams
Weathering the Storm.
In for a Penny, In for a Pound
Storm slowly peeled himself off of the lounge chair, wincing as he came to his feet before joining the rest of his teammates on their trek out of the locker room. He had often wondered what his life would have been like had he stuck with football instead and now his questions were answered.
He hadn't played in a game in weeks but the nicks and bruises he had to endure his lone season as a starter in high school were nothing compared to the constant pain he was in these days. The most puzzling part was that nothing was broken or injured, this was just how football felt.
"What's the move?" Eddie asked as they walked through the double doors that led out of the athletic complex.
"Some goddamn sleep," Storm replied, throwing his hoodie over his head as he blew hot air into his hands.
"Y'all are soft as shit," Alvin laughed as he noticed that all three man around him were doing the same as they began their walk across campus back to their dorms, "It's barely below seventy."
"Whatever," Eddie remained focus on the objective, "For real, though. You know they're gonna get tight about it the closer we get to the game, we might as well enjoy these last bits of freedom. D, you don't got anything popping tonight?"
"Nah," Donnie shook his head, "I was just going to chill."
"How you from here and don't ever got shit popping?" Eddie shook his head.
"Mobile County and here like two different states," Donnie defended himself.
"Tracy did say she was hitting Skybar tonight when we was chopping it up earlier today," Alvin chimed in.
"I'm tired of those bitches," Eddie sucked in his teeth, "The little blonde bitch fine as fuck though but she be stingy with it."
"You've fucked all of her friends," Storm laughed, "What did you expect to happen?"
"They should of known what time it was," Eddie shrugged, "If anything, this on you, B, because you should have told me to slow down and take my time. You supposed to be like the mentor of this here group."
"Fuck outta here," Storm waved him away, "Sink or swim, motherfucker, ain't nobody put their arm around me when I got here. "
"The fucked up part is I wasn't even trying to play it like that," Eddie bemoaned, "I figured they was cool with it or something. Now they got me out here looking like a grimy ass fuck nigga."
"You are a grimy ass fuck nigga, sir. They were probably just embarrassed to tell each other they let you hit," Storm continued teasing Eddie, one of his top seven favorite things to do.
"They just personal with it," Eddie shot back, "They don't want to share that E-Money dick, ya heard?"
"Shut up," Donnie lightly pushed him, "I ain't seen you hit one bad bitch since we been here."
"That's straight cap," Eddie said with a look of disgust, "Alvin, you seen my work, boy. Speak up!"
"They're cool," the second-year running back replied with a slight chuckle.
"Alvin only fucks white bitches, he don't get to vote on this shit. Y'all niggas is hating," Eddie pulled out his phone, "What's the name of that girl with the fat ass that does hair and shit? All y'all wanted to hit so you can't say she ain't bad."
"I forgot her name but I know who you're talking about, Brianna or some shit?" Storm asked.
"It ain't Brianna but I know who you're talking about," Donnie replied, "She ain't bad, she just got a fat ass. See, that's your problem. You get behind anything with a fat ass and a fucked up frontal."
"Y'all be anti-black as fuck and it's disheartening. It really is," Eddie tried to keep a straight face, "This how we talking about our black queens?"
"Don't nobody disrespect black woman like you," Storm fired back at Eddie, jokingly.
"That be D!" Eddie pointed at his fellow receiver, "Reggie be talking about you bro, I just don't bring it up."
"Reggie ain't seen shit," Donnie rebutted, "That boy just be in his room all the time, playing the game."
"So you and Russ ain't flip this AKA chick?" Eddie was quick with it too.
"Flag on the play!" Storm shouted.
"You a hoe ass nigga," Donnie couldn't hold back his laughter, "Reggie a bitch too, I'm going to have to talk to that nigga."
"That's some deviant behavior," Storm shook his head, "Even for you."
"Not everybody got a good ho...I mean woman like you," Donnie held his hands up.
"She's not my woman," Storm corrected him, "And you don't even know her like that to say what she is and isn't."
"You don't let us," Donnie added.
"That's fucked up," Eddie agreed, "He keeps us in the back like the help whenever she comes around, don't invite us nowhere with her. We your side friends, B?"
"Y'all are some trifling motherfuckers," Storm pointed out, "Being seen around campus with y'all is bad enough for my stellar reputation."
They continued to shoot the shit as they reached South Donahue Residence Hall. While only Eddie and Alvin were actual roommates, they all stayed on the same floor with Donnie being their suitemates as well.
The only third-year player of the bunch, Storm was in another pod, sharing a room with Chayil Garnett, another redshirt sophomore quarterback and a suite with receiver Ze'vian Capers and defensive tackle Zykeivous Walker.
Having not been around the program much his first two years, Storm ended up building a more natural bond with the first and second year players, which happened to be two of his top receivers, both being AP Freshman All-American selections.
"So," Donnie said as they reached their suite, "Skybar?"
"Fuck it," Eddie re-signed, "You down, B?"
Storm's legs, back and shoulders were on fire. The thought of being up all night at a nightclub didn't sound soothing at all. He just wanted to go to his room, start up a Netflix series and just chill out. This was increasingly becoming his version of a good Friday night, his Magnolia Ave days were behind him.
…
"Chill out bruh!"
"Run my fade, bitch! Ain't nobody scared of your punk ass!"
"Get him out of here!"
"Suck my dick, bitch!"
Storm did his best to wrap his hand around Eddie's waist but the receiver's six-foot-seven, 240-plus pound frame made it a tough task. The occasional tap on the chest wasn't working either.
"Chill out," Storm pleaded as Eddie kept trying to charge forward. Storm looked at Donnie, who was doing his best as well to hold the receiver back.
"I'm going to spare you today!" Eddie yelled out, finally giving up as he threw his cup towards the group of khakied Caucasians that had caused the ruckus. As soon as they were respectfully escorted out of their third club of the night, Eddie broke out into a laughing fit.
"Them niggas was scared!" Eddie leaned on Storm's shoulder, "I was going to fuck that white boy up, yo."
"You're going to end up a hashtag," Donnie shook his head as they met up with Alvin, who was already waiting for them outside.
"What the fuck happened?" Alvin asked, putting out his cigarette.
"Eddie on his usual bullshit," Storm brushed himself off, noticing half of Eddie's drink was now on his shirt.
"I thought this motherfucker was stepping to me," Eddie said with a shit-eating grin, "So I stepped to him."
"The dude barely brushed Eddie trying to order a drink," Donnie added some objectivity.
"He made me spill my drink," Eddie quipped.
"So you then threw your entire drink at him," Storm tapped his index finger on Eddie's forehead.
"In for a penny," Eddie shrugged, "In for a motherfucking pound."
"You're a wild boy," Alvin laughed, "I'm glad my ass was out here instead of dealing with your shit."
"If you scared, just say that. We still going to love you," Eddie teased Alvin, who he had at least eight inches on.
"While you were tussling with men," Alvin shot back as he showed them his phone, "I was setting up our next play. They replied to my Snap, asked that we come through."
"They're back home already?" Donnie asked as he squinted at Alvin's phone screen before eventually grabbing it, "Looks like Desi there too."
"I swear to God," Eddie put his arm around Donnie, "If you don't finally fuck Desi, I'm going to grab your dick and fuck her for you."
…
The already small group had splintered off into smaller groups with Donnie and Desi finally slithering away into her room while Eddie had disappeared with Katie, presumably smoking downstairs. Storm was more than content to let Alvin and Tracy share some private moments on the living room couch.
As Storm laid back into the chair, this was more his scene. He enjoyed a good bar hop every now and then but with his crew of guys, the night was almost guaranteed to end in a kerfuffle. While Eddie was usually at fault, it didn't help that a lot of the patrons also felt like proving how tough they were by taking on the mammoth of a man.
Storm couldn't help but laugh to himself as he thought about Eddie's eventual draft process which would lead to scouts coming around, asking about him. If they stayed away from Magnolia Avenue, he'd be a first round pick. If they went digging there, he might not get drafted and he was only two years in.
Picking his phone up, Storm was a bit surprised that it was nearing four o'clock in the morning. He had been tempted to sent a text or two, throwing out his hooks into the ocean but at this late hour, it was unbecoming. He had sowed his oats plenty around campus but had gone about it with some couth, something he wanted to uphold.
While he wasn't a fan of leaving his friends behind, they had been to Tracy's off campus apartment plenty of times and this wasn't unchartered territory for them. He figured most of them would end up spending the night anyway as he got up, tossing his empty beer bottle into the recycle bin. We stan an environmentally conscious house of women with loose morals.
The noise of the bottle clashing with the other bottles at the bottom of the bin got Alvin's attention, causing his lips to unlock with Tracy long enough to look back. Storm nodded his head towards his direction and Alvin did the same before returning to more pressing matters. As soon as Storm went to open the door, it flung open towards him, almost hitting him.
"Goddamn," Storm scoffed, "Almost took my head off."
"Tell your boy to keep his hands to himself," Katie muttered under her breath as she brushed past him, not breaking her stride as she headed towards her room.
Storm had a puzzled look on his face as he tried to piece together what just happened. He looked down to see if Eddie was following her but he was nowhere to be found. Katie's entrance had caused Tracy and Alvin to stop what they were doing with Tracy now following Katie into her bedroom. Storm and Alvin shared a look before shrugging.
Before Storm could decide on whether or not to still bail, he felt his phone vibrating. He pulled it out, fully expecting it to be Eddie but instead it was an unusual number for this time of the night.
"Mom?"
Storm slowly peeled himself off of the lounge chair, wincing as he came to his feet before joining the rest of his teammates on their trek out of the locker room. He had often wondered what his life would have been like had he stuck with football instead and now his questions were answered.
He hadn't played in a game in weeks but the nicks and bruises he had to endure his lone season as a starter in high school were nothing compared to the constant pain he was in these days. The most puzzling part was that nothing was broken or injured, this was just how football felt.
"What's the move?" Eddie asked as they walked through the double doors that led out of the athletic complex.
"Some goddamn sleep," Storm replied, throwing his hoodie over his head as he blew hot air into his hands.
"Y'all are soft as shit," Alvin laughed as he noticed that all three man around him were doing the same as they began their walk across campus back to their dorms, "It's barely below seventy."
"Whatever," Eddie remained focus on the objective, "For real, though. You know they're gonna get tight about it the closer we get to the game, we might as well enjoy these last bits of freedom. D, you don't got anything popping tonight?"
"Nah," Donnie shook his head, "I was just going to chill."
"How you from here and don't ever got shit popping?" Eddie shook his head.
"Mobile County and here like two different states," Donnie defended himself.
"Tracy did say she was hitting Skybar tonight when we was chopping it up earlier today," Alvin chimed in.
"I'm tired of those bitches," Eddie sucked in his teeth, "The little blonde bitch fine as fuck though but she be stingy with it."
"You've fucked all of her friends," Storm laughed, "What did you expect to happen?"
"They should of known what time it was," Eddie shrugged, "If anything, this on you, B, because you should have told me to slow down and take my time. You supposed to be like the mentor of this here group."
"Fuck outta here," Storm waved him away, "Sink or swim, motherfucker, ain't nobody put their arm around me when I got here. "
"The fucked up part is I wasn't even trying to play it like that," Eddie bemoaned, "I figured they was cool with it or something. Now they got me out here looking like a grimy ass fuck nigga."
"You are a grimy ass fuck nigga, sir. They were probably just embarrassed to tell each other they let you hit," Storm continued teasing Eddie, one of his top seven favorite things to do.
"They just personal with it," Eddie shot back, "They don't want to share that E-Money dick, ya heard?"
"Shut up," Donnie lightly pushed him, "I ain't seen you hit one bad bitch since we been here."
"That's straight cap," Eddie said with a look of disgust, "Alvin, you seen my work, boy. Speak up!"
"They're cool," the second-year running back replied with a slight chuckle.
"Alvin only fucks white bitches, he don't get to vote on this shit. Y'all niggas is hating," Eddie pulled out his phone, "What's the name of that girl with the fat ass that does hair and shit? All y'all wanted to hit so you can't say she ain't bad."
"I forgot her name but I know who you're talking about, Brianna or some shit?" Storm asked.
"It ain't Brianna but I know who you're talking about," Donnie replied, "She ain't bad, she just got a fat ass. See, that's your problem. You get behind anything with a fat ass and a fucked up frontal."
"Y'all be anti-black as fuck and it's disheartening. It really is," Eddie tried to keep a straight face, "This how we talking about our black queens?"
"Don't nobody disrespect black woman like you," Storm fired back at Eddie, jokingly.
"That be D!" Eddie pointed at his fellow receiver, "Reggie be talking about you bro, I just don't bring it up."
"Reggie ain't seen shit," Donnie rebutted, "That boy just be in his room all the time, playing the game."
"So you and Russ ain't flip this AKA chick?" Eddie was quick with it too.
"Flag on the play!" Storm shouted.
"You a hoe ass nigga," Donnie couldn't hold back his laughter, "Reggie a bitch too, I'm going to have to talk to that nigga."
"That's some deviant behavior," Storm shook his head, "Even for you."
"Not everybody got a good ho...I mean woman like you," Donnie held his hands up.
"She's not my woman," Storm corrected him, "And you don't even know her like that to say what she is and isn't."
"You don't let us," Donnie added.
"That's fucked up," Eddie agreed, "He keeps us in the back like the help whenever she comes around, don't invite us nowhere with her. We your side friends, B?"
"Y'all are some trifling motherfuckers," Storm pointed out, "Being seen around campus with y'all is bad enough for my stellar reputation."
They continued to shoot the shit as they reached South Donahue Residence Hall. While only Eddie and Alvin were actual roommates, they all stayed on the same floor with Donnie being their suitemates as well.
The only third-year player of the bunch, Storm was in another pod, sharing a room with Chayil Garnett, another redshirt sophomore quarterback and a suite with receiver Ze'vian Capers and defensive tackle Zykeivous Walker.
Having not been around the program much his first two years, Storm ended up building a more natural bond with the first and second year players, which happened to be two of his top receivers, both being AP Freshman All-American selections.
"So," Donnie said as they reached their suite, "Skybar?"
"Fuck it," Eddie re-signed, "You down, B?"
Storm's legs, back and shoulders were on fire. The thought of being up all night at a nightclub didn't sound soothing at all. He just wanted to go to his room, start up a Netflix series and just chill out. This was increasingly becoming his version of a good Friday night, his Magnolia Ave days were behind him.
…
"Chill out bruh!"
"Run my fade, bitch! Ain't nobody scared of your punk ass!"
"Get him out of here!"
"Suck my dick, bitch!"
Storm did his best to wrap his hand around Eddie's waist but the receiver's six-foot-seven, 240-plus pound frame made it a tough task. The occasional tap on the chest wasn't working either.
"Chill out," Storm pleaded as Eddie kept trying to charge forward. Storm looked at Donnie, who was doing his best as well to hold the receiver back.
"I'm going to spare you today!" Eddie yelled out, finally giving up as he threw his cup towards the group of khakied Caucasians that had caused the ruckus. As soon as they were respectfully escorted out of their third club of the night, Eddie broke out into a laughing fit.
"Them niggas was scared!" Eddie leaned on Storm's shoulder, "I was going to fuck that white boy up, yo."
"You're going to end up a hashtag," Donnie shook his head as they met up with Alvin, who was already waiting for them outside.
"What the fuck happened?" Alvin asked, putting out his cigarette.
"Eddie on his usual bullshit," Storm brushed himself off, noticing half of Eddie's drink was now on his shirt.
"I thought this motherfucker was stepping to me," Eddie said with a shit-eating grin, "So I stepped to him."
"The dude barely brushed Eddie trying to order a drink," Donnie added some objectivity.
"He made me spill my drink," Eddie quipped.
"So you then threw your entire drink at him," Storm tapped his index finger on Eddie's forehead.
"In for a penny," Eddie shrugged, "In for a motherfucking pound."
"You're a wild boy," Alvin laughed, "I'm glad my ass was out here instead of dealing with your shit."
"If you scared, just say that. We still going to love you," Eddie teased Alvin, who he had at least eight inches on.
"While you were tussling with men," Alvin shot back as he showed them his phone, "I was setting up our next play. They replied to my Snap, asked that we come through."
"They're back home already?" Donnie asked as he squinted at Alvin's phone screen before eventually grabbing it, "Looks like Desi there too."
"I swear to God," Eddie put his arm around Donnie, "If you don't finally fuck Desi, I'm going to grab your dick and fuck her for you."
…
The already small group had splintered off into smaller groups with Donnie and Desi finally slithering away into her room while Eddie had disappeared with Katie, presumably smoking downstairs. Storm was more than content to let Alvin and Tracy share some private moments on the living room couch.
As Storm laid back into the chair, this was more his scene. He enjoyed a good bar hop every now and then but with his crew of guys, the night was almost guaranteed to end in a kerfuffle. While Eddie was usually at fault, it didn't help that a lot of the patrons also felt like proving how tough they were by taking on the mammoth of a man.
Storm couldn't help but laugh to himself as he thought about Eddie's eventual draft process which would lead to scouts coming around, asking about him. If they stayed away from Magnolia Avenue, he'd be a first round pick. If they went digging there, he might not get drafted and he was only two years in.
Picking his phone up, Storm was a bit surprised that it was nearing four o'clock in the morning. He had been tempted to sent a text or two, throwing out his hooks into the ocean but at this late hour, it was unbecoming. He had sowed his oats plenty around campus but had gone about it with some couth, something he wanted to uphold.
While he wasn't a fan of leaving his friends behind, they had been to Tracy's off campus apartment plenty of times and this wasn't unchartered territory for them. He figured most of them would end up spending the night anyway as he got up, tossing his empty beer bottle into the recycle bin. We stan an environmentally conscious house of women with loose morals.
The noise of the bottle clashing with the other bottles at the bottom of the bin got Alvin's attention, causing his lips to unlock with Tracy long enough to look back. Storm nodded his head towards his direction and Alvin did the same before returning to more pressing matters. As soon as Storm went to open the door, it flung open towards him, almost hitting him.
"Goddamn," Storm scoffed, "Almost took my head off."
"Tell your boy to keep his hands to himself," Katie muttered under her breath as she brushed past him, not breaking her stride as she headed towards her room.
Storm had a puzzled look on his face as he tried to piece together what just happened. He looked down to see if Eddie was following her but he was nowhere to be found. Katie's entrance had caused Tracy and Alvin to stop what they were doing with Tracy now following Katie into her bedroom. Storm and Alvin shared a look before shrugging.
Before Storm could decide on whether or not to still bail, he felt his phone vibrating. He pulled it out, fully expecting it to be Eddie but instead it was an unusual number for this time of the night.
"Mom?"