“I’m going to need you to step your game up,” Ricky teased as he tore upon a pack of ketchup to spread over his scrambled eggs, “You making us Florida niggas look suspect.”
“We got you,” Popeye put his arm around Christian and placed his Defensive Player of the Week trophy next to Ricky’s Offensive Player of the Week, “We ball so damn hard it's enough for the three of us.”
“I had three tackles,” Christian shrugged.
“That’s that up north shit,” Ricky licked his fingers before he started poking at his eggs with his fork, “Y’all motherfuckers just be happy to be in pads and shit, look cute for the ladies.”
“Dade shit,” Popeye dapped Ricky up, “No shade shit.”
“This again?” James joined the table, giving each member of his newfound clique a fist bump.
His lack of a southern accent made him stick out amongst the group as did his skin color, lack of dreads and tattoos. But, somehow, the Long Beach native had found his home amongst the group of Florida kids, who were among the five non-Californians on the roster.
“Respect my culture,” Ricky grabbed a fry from James’ styrofoam plate and he was greeted by a firm slap of the hand from James, “Damn, nigga. Can a motherfucker get some fry? You ain’t supposed to be eating that shit anyway, coach about to run your ass this week.”
“What does that mean?” James asked as he bit into his burger.
“I saw the game plan for this week,” Ricky took a sip of his orange juice, “Coach Adam was telling me if I ain’t blocking, he gonna cut my PT so I put two and two together. They ain’t going to have Jordon’s bum ass running that bitch.”
“I thought y’all were besties,” James scoffed.
“I did get one-fiddy,” Ricky laughed as he placed a hand on his trophy.
“You carry that thing everywhere?” James shot back as he shook his head.
“You need to start changing the fucking plays bro,” Ricky explained, “Ain’t no coach going to offer you if you just running that bitch every play.”
“While running around in a linebacker number,” Popeye added.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Christian was quick to jump in, “Come over here on defense, man, we could use you.”
“Christian,” Ricky sighed, “You need less competition for playing time, not more. Besides, I done see Wonder Bread throw that rock and he a quarterback. You need to tell them people that shit, Jimmy, and get them niggas to respect your motherfucking talent.”
“I’ll leave that to you,” James smiled as he returned his attention to his day old, leftover burger from yesterday’s team dinner.
“Ricky,” a voice said as she sat down on the table across from him, “You don’t know how to answer your phone?”
“I’m a busy man,” he shrugged as he reached across the table and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Everybody be wanting a piece of Ricky Ricardo.”
She rolled her eyes and didn’t notice James upon first glance but on second look, she recognized him.
“Hey, James!”
“Mya,” James nodded in between bites.
“You know my guy?” Ricky raised his eyebrow.
“He’s in my Comp 1 class,” Mya said.
“With Miss Houston? Oh, hell no. Rook? I could have told you to avoid that bitch!”
“She’s a killer,” Christian shook his head in unison with Mya and Ricky.
“They really set you up to fail,” Ricky wiped his hands, “I really wish you came in the summer, bro. I would have took you under my wing, have you going places.”
“Poor me,” Jason said sarcastically.
“Focus,” Mya snapped her fingers in front of Ricky’s face, “We’re still on for tonight?”
“For sure,” he said as he blew her a kiss.
....
“We can run some install for the first half of practice but towards the end, I want them going live.”
“Makes sense,” coach Haag agreed as he spat his dip into an empty water bottle, “Rob, let’s get Jackson some reps with the two’s.”
“But coach,” coach Rob protested.
“Here we go again,” coach Adam, the wide receiver’s coach, laughed.
“If Junior decides to quit,” coach Haag said flatly, “He can quit.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to the kid,” coach Rob reiterated, “He carries the ball three times and all of sudden he skips two positions on the depth chart.”
“It ain’t about being fair,” coach Haag replied, “Jackson running our Nike package from now on and I’d like him to be able to actually know the damn playbook and our routes in case they stack nine guys in the fucking box every time he’s in.”
....
James scanned the field before tucking the ball and taking off to his right. He didn’t get more than three steps into his scramble before coach Haag blew the whistle and a gasket.
“The post is wide fucking open!”
James tossed the ball to his center before jogging over to coach Haag and coach Rob.
“Son, what are you looking at?” a perplexed coach Haag asked.
“The tight end was covered and Ricky....” James started before coach Haag quickly jumped in.
“It’s tight end, post and then go outside to Ricky. Fuck! Get these boys right, Rob! Twins! Twins!”
The offensive personnel shifted around as they eventually made a huddle a few yards from where Rob and James were standing.
“Twins right Little Rock, Twins right Little Rock.”
James nodded before jogging into the huddle and sharing a fist bump with Ricky, “Let’s get it boys. Twins right Little Rock, Twins right Little Rock.”
“Jimmy, I got post, Angelo’s got the cross and Byrd’s got a deep in. It’s a leveled read but start with Angelo and work your way up,” Ricky explained to James as the offense remained in a huddle.
“Hurry it up!” coach Haag yelled from the sidelines.
“Protection?” James asked his offensive line.
“Ram,” his center pointed out, “Come on, let’s go.”
“Aight, y’all boys. Get money on me, get money on go, ready....”
“BREAK!”
The offense broke out the huddle and hurried up to the line of scrimmage. James never spent much time before the snap reading the defense and quickly clapped his hands, asking for the ball.
He scanned the field, starting first with Angelo who beat his man off the line of scrimmage but ran into a crowd of linebackers across the middle. James shifted his feet, moving his shoulder completely to the right before launching the ball down the field.
Ricky had managed to get inside leverage on his corner and was now fighting to get behind the single high safety. They got into a side-by-side sprint for the ball as it hung in the air. Ricky was able to get a step and lunged for the ball but it fell to the ground.
“We ain’t overthrow Ricky all year long,” coach Haag let out a wry laugh as the offense started walking back to him.
“We got a live arm,” a smile crept on coach Beam’s face, “That’s a motherfucking cannon.”
“That’s six if Ricky is playing at game speed,” coach Haag gave coach Rob a lingering look before calling for the first team offense.
Explosions of Grandeur.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Explosions of Grandeur.
Speed and a cannon? white boy going somewhere.
Explosions of Grandeur.
“Byrd is going to walk into the endzone and Laney takes the 6-3 lead with a 74-yard strike from Jordon Brookshire to Balewa Byrd!”
....
“Brookshire is going to be brought down and here comes the punting unit.”
....
“Sack! Brookshire sacked for the third time in the first half and it’s fourth down.”
....
“McDonald up the middle and into the endzone as Laney gets back on the board!”
....
“McDonald breaks free and no one is catching him folks! The 30...20....10....touchdown!”
....
Johnny’s three touchdowns before the end of the half gave Laney a commanding 27-10 lead heading into the locker room. Jordon calmed down in the second half, largely due to Feather River’s pass rush simply running out of gas. The sophomore quarterback threw two more touchdowns to make it 41-17 with 6:55 left in the third.
“Jackson! Junior! Get ready!” coach Rob yelled towards his quarterback, “Jackson, you’re in first play but we’re going to rotate. Both of you, stay ready!”
....
“Jackson keeps it to himself and he’s going to find some room, picks up six.”
....
“Diala in the game now and he’s sacked on the first play.”
....
“Third and long here with Diala in the gun. The ball is snapped, he fires right to Day’Marr Johnson who picks up a block and then some and he’s finally pushed out of bounds after the gain of 36.”
....
“Jackson stuffed at the line of scrimmage”
....
“No room for Jackson there either, brings up third down and here comes Junior Dialla back in the game.”
....
James groaned as Junior’s pass on third down went incomplete. He walked over to the sidelines where Jordon was already sitting, pleased with his performance.
“Come on,” he said with a smirk, “You guys can’t light these guys up?”
“Not making the fucking reads,” coach Rob complained as Junior also joined all of the quarterbacks and their coach on the sidelines, “Junior, you’re staying in next drive.”
....
“Second and three from the 46-yard line, Diala in the gun by himself. Ball is snapped, Diala is pressured and he’s going to roll out to his right, throws...intercepted! Jones with the pick and he’s got a caravan that’s going to escort him all the way down to the 16-yard line!”
....
“Run the fucking ball!” coach Beam yelled towards the offensive staff as the dejected defense came off the field, having given up a touchdown to make it 41-24.
“Jordon?” coach Rob asked coach Haag as the play caller went through his laminated play-sheet.
“You heard the boss,” coach Haag replied, “We’re running the fucking ball so get Jackson.”
....
James gingerly got up and tossed the ball to the official. Coach Haag was a fan of the QB power play, James’ body was not. It was almost guaranteed to get positive yards, however, and on this particular play, James had gotten three-yards on first down.
James watched the sidelines as coach Haag once again called his favorite play with Jackson in the game. The offense got lined up once more as James went into his cadence.
“Green 19! Green 19! Go!”
The ball was snapped and James was slow to take off, almost jogging towards the line of scrimmage with the ball in his hands. He let his blocks take shape, sucking the defense in as they saw the same play start to unfold. The outside linebacker spilled inside, eager to record his second tackle in a row.
James didn’t follow his guard this time, instead he planted his right leg and reversed direction, going to his left. The unblocked defensive end was surprised and whiffed on James as he put his head down and started running as hard and as fast as he could.
....
“Jackson breaks the tackle...gets to the outside...cuts back inside...goes back outside...stiff arms the corner and he’s going to stroll into the endzone! What a play! What a run! 59 yards to the house!”
....
James didn’t bother turning on any lights as he crashed on the bed. The four-hour drive back from the game left him even more tired as he was unable to get some shuteye with all the chatter on the bus.
He spent the bus ride on his phone, checking to see if Iman got a chance to play in Arizona’s blowout of Southern Utah. They had started the season 0-2 with Iman being stuck on special teams. The slow start meant that the coaching staff would be less opposed to playing a true freshman like Iman, who ended up with three tackles against Southern Utah.
James plugged his phone into the charger as it was completely spent, so was his body. He could feel himself sinking into his bed when a loud knock came from the door.
The alarm clock next to his bed read ‘2:07’, making him hesitant to get up at this time of the night but the knocks continued.
“Open up,” the voice said, “You owe me some money, white bread.”
James sluggishly rolled off the bed and opened the door to find Ricky eating from a bucket of chicken. Despite his lanky frame, Ricky was never without food in his hand, something that James appreciated.
“Get your own,” Ricky pulled the bucket away from James’ reaching hand.
“Fuck do you want?” James asked, standing in the doorway and peeking out to see if anyone was with Ricky.
“Scary ass jit,” Ricky laughed, “I need you to peep this mission with me.”
“English, motherfucker. Speak it.”
“Excuse me,” Ricky said with a stereotypical white voice, “I’m trying to go bust down this bitch real quick and I need someone to come with.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Ricky took a bite, “They out in the city so I need a ride and her homegirls with her, I need you to be the entertainer ass nigga and keep them busy.”
“We just played a game,” James complained as Ricky forced his way into the apartment and started going through the stack of clothes on the floor.
“A game where we both had, what, ten touches? You fresh,” Ricky said as he started picking out an outfit for James but gave up, “Fuck it, you can squeeze into one of my shits.”
“You weigh like 160,” James teased as he changed shirts and threw on a hoodie, “I can be a buffoon in some bum shit.”
....
James savored the rum as it went down his throat. His personal stash of adult beverages that he brought with him to campus had came and went. He wasn’t invited to any parties or any outings so he hadn’t tasted alcohol in over a week, perhaps his longest stretch since his thirteenth birthday.
“You’re quiet,” said one of the girls, trying to ignore the loud thumping that was coming from the room next to them.
“I’m just chilling,” James replied, unsure if this was Asia or Aria. Either way, the two sisters were sitting across from him while they drank their apple flavored vodka with Sprite.
Their roommate, Octavia, had retired to her room along with Ricky. With their exit also went most of the conversation as James had only been introduced to the two girls a few minutes before. Neither of them seemed keen on starting a dialogue either. Not with the loud noise emanating from the adjacent room.
“You go to Laney, too?” Asia asked, leaning forward towards James, “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I just started going there this year,” James poured himself another glass of white rum, “You guys?”
“We ain’t that type of girls,” Aria replied, getting a snicker out of Asia.
“What type of girls are you?” James raised his brow.
“The type of bitches that get money,” Asia scoffed, “We ain’t about to be over there, giving the white man all of our money for a piece of paper.”
James examined the apartment and while it certainly beat his current living situation, it didn’t exactly match with Asia’s statement. He simply nodded and kept his comments to himself.
The noise from the other room stopped and outside of a few footsteps, the apartment went quiet. A few minutes later, out came Ricky while Octavia stayed inside.
“Y’all ain’t take care of my son?” Ricky asked as he kissed Asia on the forehead.
She wiped the kiss off, “We don’t do no samples.”
“You stingy with it,” Ricky shook his head before going into his pocket and taking out wads of cash. He started counting before handing the money over to Asia.
Asia and Aria shared a look before they both got up and each sat on one of James’ knees. Asia took the drink from James and placed it on the coffee table.
James kept his mouth shut as the girls went to work.
....
“Brookshire is going to be brought down and here comes the punting unit.”
....
“Sack! Brookshire sacked for the third time in the first half and it’s fourth down.”
....
“McDonald up the middle and into the endzone as Laney gets back on the board!”
....
“McDonald breaks free and no one is catching him folks! The 30...20....10....touchdown!”
....
Johnny’s three touchdowns before the end of the half gave Laney a commanding 27-10 lead heading into the locker room. Jordon calmed down in the second half, largely due to Feather River’s pass rush simply running out of gas. The sophomore quarterback threw two more touchdowns to make it 41-17 with 6:55 left in the third.
“Jackson! Junior! Get ready!” coach Rob yelled towards his quarterback, “Jackson, you’re in first play but we’re going to rotate. Both of you, stay ready!”
....
“Jackson keeps it to himself and he’s going to find some room, picks up six.”
....
“Diala in the game now and he’s sacked on the first play.”
....
“Third and long here with Diala in the gun. The ball is snapped, he fires right to Day’Marr Johnson who picks up a block and then some and he’s finally pushed out of bounds after the gain of 36.”
....
“Jackson stuffed at the line of scrimmage”
....
“No room for Jackson there either, brings up third down and here comes Junior Dialla back in the game.”
....
James groaned as Junior’s pass on third down went incomplete. He walked over to the sidelines where Jordon was already sitting, pleased with his performance.
“Come on,” he said with a smirk, “You guys can’t light these guys up?”
“Not making the fucking reads,” coach Rob complained as Junior also joined all of the quarterbacks and their coach on the sidelines, “Junior, you’re staying in next drive.”
....
“Second and three from the 46-yard line, Diala in the gun by himself. Ball is snapped, Diala is pressured and he’s going to roll out to his right, throws...intercepted! Jones with the pick and he’s got a caravan that’s going to escort him all the way down to the 16-yard line!”
....
“Run the fucking ball!” coach Beam yelled towards the offensive staff as the dejected defense came off the field, having given up a touchdown to make it 41-24.
“Jordon?” coach Rob asked coach Haag as the play caller went through his laminated play-sheet.
“You heard the boss,” coach Haag replied, “We’re running the fucking ball so get Jackson.”
....
James gingerly got up and tossed the ball to the official. Coach Haag was a fan of the QB power play, James’ body was not. It was almost guaranteed to get positive yards, however, and on this particular play, James had gotten three-yards on first down.
James watched the sidelines as coach Haag once again called his favorite play with Jackson in the game. The offense got lined up once more as James went into his cadence.
“Green 19! Green 19! Go!”
The ball was snapped and James was slow to take off, almost jogging towards the line of scrimmage with the ball in his hands. He let his blocks take shape, sucking the defense in as they saw the same play start to unfold. The outside linebacker spilled inside, eager to record his second tackle in a row.
James didn’t follow his guard this time, instead he planted his right leg and reversed direction, going to his left. The unblocked defensive end was surprised and whiffed on James as he put his head down and started running as hard and as fast as he could.
....
“Jackson breaks the tackle...gets to the outside...cuts back inside...goes back outside...stiff arms the corner and he’s going to stroll into the endzone! What a play! What a run! 59 yards to the house!”
....
James didn’t bother turning on any lights as he crashed on the bed. The four-hour drive back from the game left him even more tired as he was unable to get some shuteye with all the chatter on the bus.
He spent the bus ride on his phone, checking to see if Iman got a chance to play in Arizona’s blowout of Southern Utah. They had started the season 0-2 with Iman being stuck on special teams. The slow start meant that the coaching staff would be less opposed to playing a true freshman like Iman, who ended up with three tackles against Southern Utah.
James plugged his phone into the charger as it was completely spent, so was his body. He could feel himself sinking into his bed when a loud knock came from the door.
The alarm clock next to his bed read ‘2:07’, making him hesitant to get up at this time of the night but the knocks continued.
“Open up,” the voice said, “You owe me some money, white bread.”
James sluggishly rolled off the bed and opened the door to find Ricky eating from a bucket of chicken. Despite his lanky frame, Ricky was never without food in his hand, something that James appreciated.
“Get your own,” Ricky pulled the bucket away from James’ reaching hand.
“Fuck do you want?” James asked, standing in the doorway and peeking out to see if anyone was with Ricky.
“Scary ass jit,” Ricky laughed, “I need you to peep this mission with me.”
“English, motherfucker. Speak it.”
“Excuse me,” Ricky said with a stereotypical white voice, “I’m trying to go bust down this bitch real quick and I need someone to come with.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Ricky took a bite, “They out in the city so I need a ride and her homegirls with her, I need you to be the entertainer ass nigga and keep them busy.”
“We just played a game,” James complained as Ricky forced his way into the apartment and started going through the stack of clothes on the floor.
“A game where we both had, what, ten touches? You fresh,” Ricky said as he started picking out an outfit for James but gave up, “Fuck it, you can squeeze into one of my shits.”
“You weigh like 160,” James teased as he changed shirts and threw on a hoodie, “I can be a buffoon in some bum shit.”
....
James savored the rum as it went down his throat. His personal stash of adult beverages that he brought with him to campus had came and went. He wasn’t invited to any parties or any outings so he hadn’t tasted alcohol in over a week, perhaps his longest stretch since his thirteenth birthday.
“You’re quiet,” said one of the girls, trying to ignore the loud thumping that was coming from the room next to them.
“I’m just chilling,” James replied, unsure if this was Asia or Aria. Either way, the two sisters were sitting across from him while they drank their apple flavored vodka with Sprite.
Their roommate, Octavia, had retired to her room along with Ricky. With their exit also went most of the conversation as James had only been introduced to the two girls a few minutes before. Neither of them seemed keen on starting a dialogue either. Not with the loud noise emanating from the adjacent room.
“You go to Laney, too?” Asia asked, leaning forward towards James, “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I just started going there this year,” James poured himself another glass of white rum, “You guys?”
“We ain’t that type of girls,” Aria replied, getting a snicker out of Asia.
“What type of girls are you?” James raised his brow.
“The type of bitches that get money,” Asia scoffed, “We ain’t about to be over there, giving the white man all of our money for a piece of paper.”
James examined the apartment and while it certainly beat his current living situation, it didn’t exactly match with Asia’s statement. He simply nodded and kept his comments to himself.
The noise from the other room stopped and outside of a few footsteps, the apartment went quiet. A few minutes later, out came Ricky while Octavia stayed inside.
“Y’all ain’t take care of my son?” Ricky asked as he kissed Asia on the forehead.
She wiped the kiss off, “We don’t do no samples.”
“You stingy with it,” Ricky shook his head before going into his pocket and taking out wads of cash. He started counting before handing the money over to Asia.
Asia and Aria shared a look before they both got up and each sat on one of James’ knees. Asia took the drink from James and placed it on the coffee table.
James kept his mouth shut as the girls went to work.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Explosions of Grandeur.
Damn, we paying for sex now huh? Word.
Explosions of Grandeur.
Y'all missed me?
daddy back.
daddy back.
Explosions of Grandeur.
“Trainer! Trainer! Trainer!”
James crept up towards the front of the huddled mass of players. He gingerly walked to the sideline with the help of the trainers.
On the first play of the game, West Hills had gotten a free shot on Jordon and they did not waste that opportunity with the pass rusher driving his facemask into the side of Jordon’s helmet as he tried to complete a pass.
While Jordon laid on the ground, Junior had gotten warmed up, throwing a few passes to coach Rob. Once Jordon reached the sidelines and eventually made his way onto the makeshift trainer’s tent to enter the concussion protocol.
“Junior’s ready,” coach Rob told coach Haag.
Coach Haag and coach Beam shared a look before they both nodded, “Get Jackson ready.”
....
“Jackson in the game now for Brookshire and he keeps it on the read and he’s stopped short.”
“Jackson, who we’ve seen as a runner so far this season, brings another dynamic to this offense but West Hills knows that too.”
....
“Third and eleven from the 41-yard line and Jackson drops back, escapes to his right and he’s going to find Ricky Jean-Francois past the sticks. A gain of fourteen and the first down!”
....
“Jackson scrambles from the pocket, escapes the rush....finds a crease...heads up field, first down and some more on that little scramble.”
....
“Jackson steps up in the pocket, fires across the middle and Walker brings it down. He spins back to the outside and he’s going to dive.....they say he’s down at the one!”
....
“Slow ass bitch,” James joked to the tired receiver as he made his way back to the huddle before looking towards Ricky, “You’re going to finish off what he couldn’t?”
“I got you, kid!”
“Fuck off,” Dior scoffed as he tried to catch his breath.
....
“Jackson lofts it up towards Jean-Francois.....and he brings it down! What a leaping catch over his defender by the Florida commit!”
....
“Fuck boy! Yeah, nigga! I’m about that shit!” Ricky kept yelling to the defender as James tried to pull him back towards the line.
“We getting money,” James laughed as Ricky finally turned around, “I need you in the game, bro.”
....
“Jackson keeps it himself for a gain of three yards.”
....
“Garrett catches the ball and he’s brought down at the Westhill 30-yard line after that 14-yard strike from Jackson.”
....
“McDonald is stuffed at the line to bring up second down. McDonald, the star of the offense three games into this season, has been held so far this game.”
“With essentially two running backs back there in Jackson at quarterback, West Hills is stacking that box.”
“They keep that loaded box here on second and ten, Jackson in the gun with McDonald to his right. Jackson gets the handoff fakes it to McDonald, looks left, looks right, runs to his right and he’s going to launch it into the endzone......Jean-Francois has it! Touchdown! Touchdown!”
....
“Jackson dumps it off to Garrett, makes a defender miss. Gets into the open space...he picks up a block, still on his feet! The 20......the 10.....touchdown! Laney is pouncing West Hills so far, 21-0!”
....
“Jackson powers his way through the line of scrimmage....stiff arm....bounces off the tackle, stays on his feet and he’s going to walk into the endzone!”
....
“That white boy got nigga strength!” Ricky joked as they jogged towards the sideline, dapping up their teammates as they took their helmets off.
“Junior’s coming in the next series,” coach Rob informed James who simply nodded. Ricky wasn’t as agreeable.
“For what?” the receiver sucked his teeth but coach Rob ignored his comment.
....
“Junior Diala in the game now for James Jackson. We’ve seen both those quarterbacks backup Jordon Brookshire this season and with Jordon in the concussion protocol and out for the game, we expected to see both guys and here comes Dalia.”
....
“McDonald with another strong run and he’s got the offense at the ten-yard line.”
“McDonald finding some success on this drive with Dalia at quarterback.”
....
“Dalia drops back, fires into the endzone...and it’s intercepted! West Hills get a much needed break as Junior Dalia is intercepted in the endzone!”
....
The disappointment on the Laney sideline was short-lived as two plays later, the defense intercepted a pass of their own and returned it for a touchdown.
Coach Haag made his way through the excited players and tapped coach Rob on the shoulder, “Jackson’s back in and he’s staying in! Enough with this back and forth bullshit!”
....
“Jackson bounces it to the outside and he’s going to sprint into the endzone! Touchdown!”
....
“McDonald dashes it through the teeth of the defense and he’s into the endzone!”
....
“Jackson tosses it to McDonald on the option who cuts back inside and he’s going to roll into the endzone!”
....
“Jackson keeps it this time and he strolls into the endzone, touchdown Laney! Sixty-two points on the board!”
James crept up towards the front of the huddled mass of players. He gingerly walked to the sideline with the help of the trainers.
On the first play of the game, West Hills had gotten a free shot on Jordon and they did not waste that opportunity with the pass rusher driving his facemask into the side of Jordon’s helmet as he tried to complete a pass.
While Jordon laid on the ground, Junior had gotten warmed up, throwing a few passes to coach Rob. Once Jordon reached the sidelines and eventually made his way onto the makeshift trainer’s tent to enter the concussion protocol.
“Junior’s ready,” coach Rob told coach Haag.
Coach Haag and coach Beam shared a look before they both nodded, “Get Jackson ready.”
....
“Jackson in the game now for Brookshire and he keeps it on the read and he’s stopped short.”
“Jackson, who we’ve seen as a runner so far this season, brings another dynamic to this offense but West Hills knows that too.”
....
“Third and eleven from the 41-yard line and Jackson drops back, escapes to his right and he’s going to find Ricky Jean-Francois past the sticks. A gain of fourteen and the first down!”
....
“Jackson scrambles from the pocket, escapes the rush....finds a crease...heads up field, first down and some more on that little scramble.”
....
“Jackson steps up in the pocket, fires across the middle and Walker brings it down. He spins back to the outside and he’s going to dive.....they say he’s down at the one!”
....
“Slow ass bitch,” James joked to the tired receiver as he made his way back to the huddle before looking towards Ricky, “You’re going to finish off what he couldn’t?”
“I got you, kid!”
“Fuck off,” Dior scoffed as he tried to catch his breath.
....
“Jackson lofts it up towards Jean-Francois.....and he brings it down! What a leaping catch over his defender by the Florida commit!”
....
“Fuck boy! Yeah, nigga! I’m about that shit!” Ricky kept yelling to the defender as James tried to pull him back towards the line.
“We getting money,” James laughed as Ricky finally turned around, “I need you in the game, bro.”
....
“Jackson keeps it himself for a gain of three yards.”
....
“Garrett catches the ball and he’s brought down at the Westhill 30-yard line after that 14-yard strike from Jackson.”
....
“McDonald is stuffed at the line to bring up second down. McDonald, the star of the offense three games into this season, has been held so far this game.”
“With essentially two running backs back there in Jackson at quarterback, West Hills is stacking that box.”
“They keep that loaded box here on second and ten, Jackson in the gun with McDonald to his right. Jackson gets the handoff fakes it to McDonald, looks left, looks right, runs to his right and he’s going to launch it into the endzone......Jean-Francois has it! Touchdown! Touchdown!”
....
“Jackson dumps it off to Garrett, makes a defender miss. Gets into the open space...he picks up a block, still on his feet! The 20......the 10.....touchdown! Laney is pouncing West Hills so far, 21-0!”
....
“Jackson powers his way through the line of scrimmage....stiff arm....bounces off the tackle, stays on his feet and he’s going to walk into the endzone!”
....
“That white boy got nigga strength!” Ricky joked as they jogged towards the sideline, dapping up their teammates as they took their helmets off.
“Junior’s coming in the next series,” coach Rob informed James who simply nodded. Ricky wasn’t as agreeable.
“For what?” the receiver sucked his teeth but coach Rob ignored his comment.
....
“Junior Diala in the game now for James Jackson. We’ve seen both those quarterbacks backup Jordon Brookshire this season and with Jordon in the concussion protocol and out for the game, we expected to see both guys and here comes Dalia.”
....
“McDonald with another strong run and he’s got the offense at the ten-yard line.”
“McDonald finding some success on this drive with Dalia at quarterback.”
....
“Dalia drops back, fires into the endzone...and it’s intercepted! West Hills get a much needed break as Junior Dalia is intercepted in the endzone!”
....
The disappointment on the Laney sideline was short-lived as two plays later, the defense intercepted a pass of their own and returned it for a touchdown.
Coach Haag made his way through the excited players and tapped coach Rob on the shoulder, “Jackson’s back in and he’s staying in! Enough with this back and forth bullshit!”
....
“Jackson bounces it to the outside and he’s going to sprint into the endzone! Touchdown!”
....
“McDonald dashes it through the teeth of the defense and he’s into the endzone!”
....
“Jackson tosses it to McDonald on the option who cuts back inside and he’s going to roll into the endzone!”
....
“Jackson keeps it this time and he strolls into the endzone, touchdown Laney! Sixty-two points on the board!”
Explosions of Grandeur.
“That shit ain’t gonna fit you,” Popeye complained as he tried to snatch the shirt from James’ grasp but missed.
“Y’all took all the other shit,” James complained, “Let me get the hat and the headband and you got it.”
“Fine,” Popeye tossed the hat and headband towards James. James, in return, gave him the purple shirt.
The latest swag package for Ricky had just came in, this time from Baton Rouge. Despite being committed to Ole Miss since his sophomore season at Killian High School down in Miami, Florida, SEC and ACC schools were relentless in their recruiting. His inability to become academically eligible in time to enroll at Ole Miss only made him even more sought after as teams simply viewed as another two years of recruiting a once five-star recruit.
With all signs pointing to a December graduation, the swag packages and letters had increased since the start of the season. If anyone was going to flip him from Ole Miss, the next two months would be crucial.
“Their colors is booty,” Ricky said as he shook his head in disapproval from his bed as Popeye and James went through the box until it was empty.
The knock on the door interrupted their activities.
“It’s open,” Ricky yelled from his bed, not bothering to stand up.
In came Mya, wearing an olive tank top with blue jeans as her bag hung from her right shoulder.
“It smells like football in here,” she said before quickly joining Ricky on the bed, sharing an embrace.
“That’s what grown niggas smell like,” Popeye said as he took off his shirt to try on one with LSU’s graphics all over it.
“You’re hardly grown,” she teased as she took a Saran wrapped box from her bag and handed it to Ricky.
Ricky got up and while Mya and Popeye had a little back-and-forth ribbing each other, he took the box to the bathroom.
“I’ll get it after class,” she told Ricky, who was still in the bathroom, as she got up, “Don’t you got class, too?”
“Maybe,” James let out a dry chuckle, “Wasn’t feeling it today.”
“One good game and this nigga think he too good for school,” Ricky came out the bathroom, “Get your ass to class, nigga. I need you starting, my boy.”
“Jordon taking the test today,” James scoffed, “Have fun with him.”
“I don’t care if he ain’t concussed,” Ricky shook his head as he plopped back on the bed, running his hand through Mya’s hair, “I ain’t playing with that scary ass boy anymore. Fool be throwing that bitch away soon as someone gets near his pussy.”
“Gross,” Mya stood up and headed towards the door. Her encounter with them were always brief and this one was no different.
“Take him with you,” Ricky commanded, pointing towards James, “I ain’t playing, jit. Take your ass to class.”
James shook his head and got up, not only because Ricky told him to but because once Popeye and Ricky attended their respective classes, he would have nowhere else to kill time with instead of his empty dorm.
“You don’t have to actually escort me,” James said once they both left the dorm and started the walk to class.
“You’re not getting off the hook,” she smiled as she nudged him, “Do you have anything in that bag of yours?”
“A change of clothes,” James shrugged, “Our game plan for the week, maybe a notebook or two.”
“You guys are the worst,” she shook her head, “At least you and Ricky are good, it’s the sorry ass players that be walking around here like they run the place or are too good for it.”
“I’m not too good for anything. Shit, if anything, some places are probably too good for me.”
“I see Ricky hasn’t completely rubbed off on you,” she laughed.
“That Ricky is something else,” James nodded, “He’s a cool dude, though.”
“He’s both the best and the worst. You just need him to shut the fuck up once in a while and there ain’t no that with Ricky.”
James finally decided to address the elephant that’s been in the room since he saw Mya and Ricky, “How long y’all been together?”
“Who? Me and Ricky?!”
“Yeah.”
“Hell no,” she scoffed and imitated throwing up, “Ricky and I -- by the way -- aren’t together, have never been and never will be.”
“For real?” James looked at her funny, unsure of her truthfulness.
“He’s like my brother, an annoying ass brother.”
“People fuck their brothers, now?”
“Who said Ricky and I fucked?”
“Come on,” James sucked his teeth, “Y’all haven’t?”
“It ain’t your business,” she grimaced, “I've known Ricky since like forever, he is like a brother to me. Ricky’s uncle played ball for my dad, that’s how he ended up here after all that shit went down.”
“What shit?”
“You’re a nosy one,” she said as she opened the door to the classroom, “Stop asking so many damn questions.”
....
“He’s good to go,” coach Rob explained as the rest of the coaches had begun getting ready to head home.
“Practice tomorrow?” coach Haag asked as he finished his bowl of rice and veggies in an effort to lose some weight for the missus.
“Full contact,” coach Rob nodded, “Well, quarterback version of full contact.”
“I still like Jackson,” coach Beam groaned as he sunk into his chair, “That motherfucker is different. Shit, I went through hell to get Jordon but that Jackson kid, we ain’t seen too many like him.”
“Jordon opens up the offense,” coach Rob insisted.
“We’ll stick with Jordon,” coach Haag clears his throat, “Throw Jackson in there as a runner here and there but I like both of them.”
....
James’ body was happy with practice, his mind wasn’t. After carrying the ball eight times in the last game, James finally got a chance to heal his body with the limited reps he got in practice.
Jordon took all the first team and majority of the second team snaps under the disguise of him catching up for missing the first two days of practice. The way James saw it, he had earned not only all of the second team snaps but perhaps running with the first team offense as well.
“A nigga tired,” Christian said as he sat on his seat in front of his locker next to James.
“Makes one of us,” James muttered as he took his pads off.
“Popeye momma sent some food,” Christian suggested as the topic quickly shifted.
“I’m not sure I want cross-country food,” James groaned.
“You’re bugging,” Christian shrugged, “That shit still be hitting.”
“We got QB over here!”
“What you doing over here, boy?!”
James turned around to see what the hollering was about. Jordon was making his way through that section of the locker room and given that he wore a single digit number, he rarely frequented the 40s and 50s.
“James,” Jordon said once he reached James’ locker, “Coach said you have the latest wrist coach.”
“Yeah?” James replied flatly.
“Let me get it,” he replied, “I got the old one still, added a few plays on Monday, right?”
“Yes.”
“So...can I have it?”
“Get one from coach,” James returned to getting dressed.
“I obviously tried that,” Jordon laughed, “He said he’ll get them ready by tomorrow but I wanted to go over them tonight.”
“So get them tomorrow.”
“I’m the one that needs them,” Jordon spat out, “Come on, you can get it tomorrow.”
“My boy said get on,” Christian stood up, towering over Jordon.
“Here,” James reached into his locker and pulled out the sheet of plays.
“Thanks,” Jordon said as he kept staring down Christian before turning around.
“Y’all took all the other shit,” James complained, “Let me get the hat and the headband and you got it.”
“Fine,” Popeye tossed the hat and headband towards James. James, in return, gave him the purple shirt.
The latest swag package for Ricky had just came in, this time from Baton Rouge. Despite being committed to Ole Miss since his sophomore season at Killian High School down in Miami, Florida, SEC and ACC schools were relentless in their recruiting. His inability to become academically eligible in time to enroll at Ole Miss only made him even more sought after as teams simply viewed as another two years of recruiting a once five-star recruit.
With all signs pointing to a December graduation, the swag packages and letters had increased since the start of the season. If anyone was going to flip him from Ole Miss, the next two months would be crucial.
“Their colors is booty,” Ricky said as he shook his head in disapproval from his bed as Popeye and James went through the box until it was empty.
The knock on the door interrupted their activities.
“It’s open,” Ricky yelled from his bed, not bothering to stand up.
In came Mya, wearing an olive tank top with blue jeans as her bag hung from her right shoulder.
“It smells like football in here,” she said before quickly joining Ricky on the bed, sharing an embrace.
“That’s what grown niggas smell like,” Popeye said as he took off his shirt to try on one with LSU’s graphics all over it.
“You’re hardly grown,” she teased as she took a Saran wrapped box from her bag and handed it to Ricky.
Ricky got up and while Mya and Popeye had a little back-and-forth ribbing each other, he took the box to the bathroom.
“I’ll get it after class,” she told Ricky, who was still in the bathroom, as she got up, “Don’t you got class, too?”
“Maybe,” James let out a dry chuckle, “Wasn’t feeling it today.”
“One good game and this nigga think he too good for school,” Ricky came out the bathroom, “Get your ass to class, nigga. I need you starting, my boy.”
“Jordon taking the test today,” James scoffed, “Have fun with him.”
“I don’t care if he ain’t concussed,” Ricky shook his head as he plopped back on the bed, running his hand through Mya’s hair, “I ain’t playing with that scary ass boy anymore. Fool be throwing that bitch away soon as someone gets near his pussy.”
“Gross,” Mya stood up and headed towards the door. Her encounter with them were always brief and this one was no different.
“Take him with you,” Ricky commanded, pointing towards James, “I ain’t playing, jit. Take your ass to class.”
James shook his head and got up, not only because Ricky told him to but because once Popeye and Ricky attended their respective classes, he would have nowhere else to kill time with instead of his empty dorm.
“You don’t have to actually escort me,” James said once they both left the dorm and started the walk to class.
“You’re not getting off the hook,” she smiled as she nudged him, “Do you have anything in that bag of yours?”
“A change of clothes,” James shrugged, “Our game plan for the week, maybe a notebook or two.”
“You guys are the worst,” she shook her head, “At least you and Ricky are good, it’s the sorry ass players that be walking around here like they run the place or are too good for it.”
“I’m not too good for anything. Shit, if anything, some places are probably too good for me.”
“I see Ricky hasn’t completely rubbed off on you,” she laughed.
“That Ricky is something else,” James nodded, “He’s a cool dude, though.”
“He’s both the best and the worst. You just need him to shut the fuck up once in a while and there ain’t no that with Ricky.”
James finally decided to address the elephant that’s been in the room since he saw Mya and Ricky, “How long y’all been together?”
“Who? Me and Ricky?!”
“Yeah.”
“Hell no,” she scoffed and imitated throwing up, “Ricky and I -- by the way -- aren’t together, have never been and never will be.”
“For real?” James looked at her funny, unsure of her truthfulness.
“He’s like my brother, an annoying ass brother.”
“People fuck their brothers, now?”
“Who said Ricky and I fucked?”
“Come on,” James sucked his teeth, “Y’all haven’t?”
“It ain’t your business,” she grimaced, “I've known Ricky since like forever, he is like a brother to me. Ricky’s uncle played ball for my dad, that’s how he ended up here after all that shit went down.”
“What shit?”
“You’re a nosy one,” she said as she opened the door to the classroom, “Stop asking so many damn questions.”
....
“He’s good to go,” coach Rob explained as the rest of the coaches had begun getting ready to head home.
“Practice tomorrow?” coach Haag asked as he finished his bowl of rice and veggies in an effort to lose some weight for the missus.
“Full contact,” coach Rob nodded, “Well, quarterback version of full contact.”
“I still like Jackson,” coach Beam groaned as he sunk into his chair, “That motherfucker is different. Shit, I went through hell to get Jordon but that Jackson kid, we ain’t seen too many like him.”
“Jordon opens up the offense,” coach Rob insisted.
“We’ll stick with Jordon,” coach Haag clears his throat, “Throw Jackson in there as a runner here and there but I like both of them.”
....
James’ body was happy with practice, his mind wasn’t. After carrying the ball eight times in the last game, James finally got a chance to heal his body with the limited reps he got in practice.
Jordon took all the first team and majority of the second team snaps under the disguise of him catching up for missing the first two days of practice. The way James saw it, he had earned not only all of the second team snaps but perhaps running with the first team offense as well.
“A nigga tired,” Christian said as he sat on his seat in front of his locker next to James.
“Makes one of us,” James muttered as he took his pads off.
“Popeye momma sent some food,” Christian suggested as the topic quickly shifted.
“I’m not sure I want cross-country food,” James groaned.
“You’re bugging,” Christian shrugged, “That shit still be hitting.”
“We got QB over here!”
“What you doing over here, boy?!”
James turned around to see what the hollering was about. Jordon was making his way through that section of the locker room and given that he wore a single digit number, he rarely frequented the 40s and 50s.
“James,” Jordon said once he reached James’ locker, “Coach said you have the latest wrist coach.”
“Yeah?” James replied flatly.
“Let me get it,” he replied, “I got the old one still, added a few plays on Monday, right?”
“Yes.”
“So...can I have it?”
“Get one from coach,” James returned to getting dressed.
“I obviously tried that,” Jordon laughed, “He said he’ll get them ready by tomorrow but I wanted to go over them tonight.”
“So get them tomorrow.”
“I’m the one that needs them,” Jordon spat out, “Come on, you can get it tomorrow.”
“My boy said get on,” Christian stood up, towering over Jordon.
“Here,” James reached into his locker and pulled out the sheet of plays.
“Thanks,” Jordon said as he kept staring down Christian before turning around.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Explosions of Grandeur.
Jordon can feel White Chocolate coming for that job, huh.
Explosions of Grandeur.
he the opp
Explosions of Grandeur.
“How about this one?”
James shook his head as Ricky held the diamond necklace up near his neck. It was the choker kind that had grown popular over the years but not to James. It looked like something someone would put on their dog.
“I fucks with these,” James pointed towards a Cuban-link necklace that was laid out on the glass counter.
Ricky nodded, holding it up and running his hand through it, “Try it on.”
James obliged and placed the necklace on, it’s weight took him by surprise. Ricky grabbed another necklace -- a Jesus piece -- and placed it on James as well.
“Get some golds and you finna be ready,” Ricky laughed as he took out his phone to take a picture, “Buddy finna be swagged out.”
“It looks good on you,” agreed the salesman, Ari.
“I need you looking good next to me on Signing Day,” Ricky said as he pulled out a wad of cash and placed it on the counter, “We wearing these bitches out.”
“Receipt?” Ari asked after he finished counting the money.
“Ricky,” James put his hand up, “You serious?”
“Deadass,” Ricky turned his attention back to Ari, “Nah, I’m good. When you think my shit gonna come in?”
“Probably another two weeks,” Ari shrugged.
“Add the rest of that towards my tab then,” Ricky started walking out of the store, “Cash me out when they come in.”
“I don’t know what to say,” James laughed, “Thanks, Ricky. Shit, I don’t think I ever got some....”
“I need you to be on some fly nigga shit like me,” Ricky explained to him as they got into James’ car, “Get you some clothes after this and we’ll be ready for tonight.”
“What the fuck is tonight?” James raised an eyebrow.
“If we ain’t gonna be winning on Friday night,” Ricky let out a dry chuckle, “We sure as hell better be winning on Saturday night.”
....
James muttered a few choice words under his breath as a group of girls all managed to step on his feet as they made their way in front of him. He somehow didn’t spill any of his drink and instead took a sip of it, letting the alcohol burn the bottom of his throat before he could feel the warm whiskey reach his belly.
“We out!”
James turned around and saw that Ricky along with Christian and Popeye were all heading towards the exit. James titled his cup into his mouth, taking a deep breath before finishing the last few drops.
They reached the exit and going from the strobe lights to the dark, barely-lit sidewalks were a relief. The blaring music had somehow masked the alcohol that was now circulating through all of their blood streams as they stumbled down the sidewalk.
“Shit was lit,” Ricky smiled as they continued to bump into angry strangers who quickly changed their tone once they saw the lumbering Christian behind them.
“That little bitch was down,” Popeye shook his head, “You ain't let me hold the bottle though! That was green as fuck!”
“It ain’t your motherfucking bottle,” Ricky sucked his teeth as they reached the dirt lot where James’ car was parked.
The foursome bundled up inside the car as James took a deep breath, tuning out the ongoing conversation about bottle-holding etiquette.
Despite the 38-21 loss -- their first loss of the season -- and James being held to just two yards on eight very tough carries, it was turning out to be a festive weekend. Georgia was the latest school to throw their hat into the Ricky sweepstakes, making an in-game visit and taking Ricky to dinner after the game. His pockets were more full than his stomach following said dinner.
“She wasn’t going to fuck you,” Ricky insisted, “She was just hoeing you, bro. All these bitches be hoeing niggas.”
“I ain’t tryna spend all night with some niggas either,” Popeye shook his head.
“I got y’all,” Ricky smiled as he leaned over towards James, “Let’s go to the spot.”
....
“You real small.”
“This dick ain’t,” Popeye quickly fired back, getting a light chuckle out of the girls.
Popeye had been spitting game to anything that was walking with a bad weave and they were plentiful in the cramped apartment. The boys had crashed what was an impromptu girl’s night in Octavia’s apartment. The usual suspects -- roommates Asia and Aria -- were there along with Mya and a few other girls whose names James had quickly forgotten.
Instead, James got himself resituated with a gentleman that went by the name Jack Daniels and that was his friend for the night, closely nursing that bottle.
“Give me some,” said Mya as she sat down next to him on the couch and continued to watch Popeye make a fool of himself.
James let out a generous pour of the whiskey and watched with pleasure as Mya downed the cup with ease, “Goddamn.”
“I’m not a little girl,” she said, ironically followed by a giggle and then a burp before asking for some more.
James was a bit more prudent with his second pour, slowly letting it out of the bottle until she nodded her head. She was too, slowly sipping it this time before laying back on the couch.
Christian seemed to be enamored with the sisters, Aria and Asia. Outside of their tacky tattoos and aforementioned weave, James couldn’t blame the usually quiet linebacker. If anything, James was quite relieved that his locker mate appeased his doubts that perhaps he was playing for another team.
“They love the attention,” Mya said with a hint of disgust as she watched Aria and Asia take shots off each other’s belly buttons on the dining room table.
“They sure do,” James agreed, downing some more alcohol.
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
“What does that mean?”
“Come on,” Mya laughed, “You really think Ricky was going to keep his mouth shut about that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James said with a straight face, a bit embarrassed that Mya knew about his paid-for-encounters with the sisters.
“Relax,” she smiled as she placed her hand on his hunched over back, “He didn’t tell me anything so no, he didn’t violate any ‘bro’ code. He did say y’all visited them the other day and well, I know how they get down.”
“So now that you know everything about me,” James leaned back so that they were now face to face, “You’re going to tell me about you?”
“Me what?”
“Come on,” he nodded over to Ricky who was entertaining a few female guests.
“You don’t want to fuck behind Ricky,” she took a sip, “And I don’t want to fuck behind my cousins so I guess we’re even.”
“You’re related to them?”
“I knew y’all fucked,” Mya laughed as she clapped her hands, “But yeah, not really though. Our moms just grew up together, like their mom is my godmother and my mom is their godmother type shit so we just tell people we’re cousins.”
“Family affairs,” James nodded.
“Something like that. I just decided to go on a different route -- somewhat -- but they’re still family so I can’t hate on it.”
“And Ricky?”
“You stay on that boy,” she ran her finger through James’ hair, “Nah, Ricky just cool people with the family and stuff.”
“What ab....”
James was interrupted as Christian tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up to the towering linebacker before standing up as well and walking over to a secluded corner, “What’s up, big fella?”
“I need a hat, bro.”
“A what?”
“A joint for my shit,” he said as he scratched his patchy beard.
“English,” James snorted.
“A condom,” he said firmly, “Shorty in the red over there just said she down for the count but I gotta have something on me.”
“She said those exact words?”
“Yes,” Christian said, getting a little bit frustrated as he watched Popeye also talk to ‘shorty in the red’, which happened to be Asia.
“She ain’t talking about condoms,” James laughed, “She’s talking about that money, something green, chico.”
“Shit,” Christian sighed, “For real?”
“Yes,” James put his right hand on his shoulder and comforted the disappointed teddy bear.
“Fuck,” Christian muttered before walking away.
James laughed to himself, finding it pretty funny that the big man had gotten all worked up only to be let down. He turned around to find Mya now sitting next to a chatty Ricky. She was practically laying down on him as he had his right hand on her inner thigh. Ricky and him made eye contact and the ever affable Ricky smiled at James and nodded at him.
James simply nodded back before finding himself another corner away from them. Three would be a crowd.
James shook his head as Ricky held the diamond necklace up near his neck. It was the choker kind that had grown popular over the years but not to James. It looked like something someone would put on their dog.
“I fucks with these,” James pointed towards a Cuban-link necklace that was laid out on the glass counter.
Ricky nodded, holding it up and running his hand through it, “Try it on.”
James obliged and placed the necklace on, it’s weight took him by surprise. Ricky grabbed another necklace -- a Jesus piece -- and placed it on James as well.
“Get some golds and you finna be ready,” Ricky laughed as he took out his phone to take a picture, “Buddy finna be swagged out.”
“It looks good on you,” agreed the salesman, Ari.
“I need you looking good next to me on Signing Day,” Ricky said as he pulled out a wad of cash and placed it on the counter, “We wearing these bitches out.”
“Receipt?” Ari asked after he finished counting the money.
“Ricky,” James put his hand up, “You serious?”
“Deadass,” Ricky turned his attention back to Ari, “Nah, I’m good. When you think my shit gonna come in?”
“Probably another two weeks,” Ari shrugged.
“Add the rest of that towards my tab then,” Ricky started walking out of the store, “Cash me out when they come in.”
“I don’t know what to say,” James laughed, “Thanks, Ricky. Shit, I don’t think I ever got some....”
“I need you to be on some fly nigga shit like me,” Ricky explained to him as they got into James’ car, “Get you some clothes after this and we’ll be ready for tonight.”
“What the fuck is tonight?” James raised an eyebrow.
“If we ain’t gonna be winning on Friday night,” Ricky let out a dry chuckle, “We sure as hell better be winning on Saturday night.”
....
James muttered a few choice words under his breath as a group of girls all managed to step on his feet as they made their way in front of him. He somehow didn’t spill any of his drink and instead took a sip of it, letting the alcohol burn the bottom of his throat before he could feel the warm whiskey reach his belly.
“We out!”
James turned around and saw that Ricky along with Christian and Popeye were all heading towards the exit. James titled his cup into his mouth, taking a deep breath before finishing the last few drops.
They reached the exit and going from the strobe lights to the dark, barely-lit sidewalks were a relief. The blaring music had somehow masked the alcohol that was now circulating through all of their blood streams as they stumbled down the sidewalk.
“Shit was lit,” Ricky smiled as they continued to bump into angry strangers who quickly changed their tone once they saw the lumbering Christian behind them.
“That little bitch was down,” Popeye shook his head, “You ain't let me hold the bottle though! That was green as fuck!”
“It ain’t your motherfucking bottle,” Ricky sucked his teeth as they reached the dirt lot where James’ car was parked.
The foursome bundled up inside the car as James took a deep breath, tuning out the ongoing conversation about bottle-holding etiquette.
Despite the 38-21 loss -- their first loss of the season -- and James being held to just two yards on eight very tough carries, it was turning out to be a festive weekend. Georgia was the latest school to throw their hat into the Ricky sweepstakes, making an in-game visit and taking Ricky to dinner after the game. His pockets were more full than his stomach following said dinner.
“She wasn’t going to fuck you,” Ricky insisted, “She was just hoeing you, bro. All these bitches be hoeing niggas.”
“I ain’t tryna spend all night with some niggas either,” Popeye shook his head.
“I got y’all,” Ricky smiled as he leaned over towards James, “Let’s go to the spot.”
....
“You real small.”
“This dick ain’t,” Popeye quickly fired back, getting a light chuckle out of the girls.
Popeye had been spitting game to anything that was walking with a bad weave and they were plentiful in the cramped apartment. The boys had crashed what was an impromptu girl’s night in Octavia’s apartment. The usual suspects -- roommates Asia and Aria -- were there along with Mya and a few other girls whose names James had quickly forgotten.
Instead, James got himself resituated with a gentleman that went by the name Jack Daniels and that was his friend for the night, closely nursing that bottle.
“Give me some,” said Mya as she sat down next to him on the couch and continued to watch Popeye make a fool of himself.
James let out a generous pour of the whiskey and watched with pleasure as Mya downed the cup with ease, “Goddamn.”
“I’m not a little girl,” she said, ironically followed by a giggle and then a burp before asking for some more.
James was a bit more prudent with his second pour, slowly letting it out of the bottle until she nodded her head. She was too, slowly sipping it this time before laying back on the couch.
Christian seemed to be enamored with the sisters, Aria and Asia. Outside of their tacky tattoos and aforementioned weave, James couldn’t blame the usually quiet linebacker. If anything, James was quite relieved that his locker mate appeased his doubts that perhaps he was playing for another team.
“They love the attention,” Mya said with a hint of disgust as she watched Aria and Asia take shots off each other’s belly buttons on the dining room table.
“They sure do,” James agreed, downing some more alcohol.
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
“What does that mean?”
“Come on,” Mya laughed, “You really think Ricky was going to keep his mouth shut about that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James said with a straight face, a bit embarrassed that Mya knew about his paid-for-encounters with the sisters.
“Relax,” she smiled as she placed her hand on his hunched over back, “He didn’t tell me anything so no, he didn’t violate any ‘bro’ code. He did say y’all visited them the other day and well, I know how they get down.”
“So now that you know everything about me,” James leaned back so that they were now face to face, “You’re going to tell me about you?”
“Me what?”
“Come on,” he nodded over to Ricky who was entertaining a few female guests.
“You don’t want to fuck behind Ricky,” she took a sip, “And I don’t want to fuck behind my cousins so I guess we’re even.”
“You’re related to them?”
“I knew y’all fucked,” Mya laughed as she clapped her hands, “But yeah, not really though. Our moms just grew up together, like their mom is my godmother and my mom is their godmother type shit so we just tell people we’re cousins.”
“Family affairs,” James nodded.
“Something like that. I just decided to go on a different route -- somewhat -- but they’re still family so I can’t hate on it.”
“And Ricky?”
“You stay on that boy,” she ran her finger through James’ hair, “Nah, Ricky just cool people with the family and stuff.”
“What ab....”
James was interrupted as Christian tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up to the towering linebacker before standing up as well and walking over to a secluded corner, “What’s up, big fella?”
“I need a hat, bro.”
“A what?”
“A joint for my shit,” he said as he scratched his patchy beard.
“English,” James snorted.
“A condom,” he said firmly, “Shorty in the red over there just said she down for the count but I gotta have something on me.”
“She said those exact words?”
“Yes,” Christian said, getting a little bit frustrated as he watched Popeye also talk to ‘shorty in the red’, which happened to be Asia.
“She ain’t talking about condoms,” James laughed, “She’s talking about that money, something green, chico.”
“Shit,” Christian sighed, “For real?”
“Yes,” James put his right hand on his shoulder and comforted the disappointed teddy bear.
“Fuck,” Christian muttered before walking away.
James laughed to himself, finding it pretty funny that the big man had gotten all worked up only to be let down. He turned around to find Mya now sitting next to a chatty Ricky. She was practically laying down on him as he had his right hand on her inner thigh. Ricky and him made eye contact and the ever affable Ricky smiled at James and nodded at him.
James simply nodded back before finding himself another corner away from them. Three would be a crowd.