War of the Roses: Redux Edition

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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 09 Jan 2020, 18:00

Here comes the sex scene.
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djp73
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 09 Jan 2020, 21:32

Caesar caught up or just trying to get some new
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 12 Jan 2020, 19:54

That Doesn’t Come Easy

Devin jolted awake, the mid-morning sunlight streaming in through the window. He sat up and put his hand over his eyes to shield them from the light as he swung his feet to the opposite side of his bed. A pamphlet lay on top of his cellphone on the nightstand, his mother’s handwriting in permanent marker on it.

He snatched it up. It was a list of chores: clean his room, clean the kitchen and bathrooms, mow the grass, join his parents for New Year’s Eve church service. He threw it back on the nightstand and rubbed sleep from his eyes.

Notifications lit up on his phone when he swiped his finger on it. Likely more complaining from Carla about her cousin’s refusal to answer any of her calls in the last week, and Kaley’s apparent refusal to also answer calls from her boyfriend. Neither of them knew where she was. Devin didn’t feel that it was any of his business.

He answered the string of rambling texts with reassurances that Carla wasn’t being the problematic one in the situation anyway. He just hoped she would calm down by the time he swung around her place to bring in the new year.

Standing up, he headed to the kitchen in hopes that there was something to eat in there before he got started on the list.

But first he stopped and ripped the bottom off the pamphlet. Salvation be damned, he wasn’t going to waste his New Year’s Eve at anyone’s church service.



Devin shut off the weed whacker and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of the hoodie he wore. Despite the chill of the last day of the year hanging in the air, the sun beating on his skin had caused him to work up quite the sweat.

He laid the weed whacker against the wall and snatched up the water bottle off the ground, sighing when he noticed there was only a few more sips of water in it. He could already hear his parents’ complaints if he went inside for another instead of refilling the one in his hand with water from the tap.

As he was reaching for the weed whacker to finish up, a pickup truck pulled to a stop on the side of the yard. A man jumped down from the driver’s side, looking at his phone and then Devin’s mailbox before noticing Devin watching him.

“Can I help you?” Devin asked.

“You’re Devin King, right?” the man asked.

“Which one?”

“Huh?”

“Which Devin King are you looking for?”

The man stopped and scratched his chin. “I guess that’s a valid question. I’m looking for you assuming you don’t have a twin somewhere that plays football for Terrebonne.”

Devin wiped more sweat from his forehead. “Nope, that’s me.”

“Oh, good. I’ve come here like seven times in the past few days and you’re never here. I can’t say I remember being that out and about when I was your age, but I grew up in Odessa and even Houma makes Odessa look tiny.”

“I’m not talking to recruiters today. Come back in a few days.” He held up the weed whacker. “I have chores to do.”

“I’m not a recruiter. I’m the new coach of the team over at Terrebonne. I wanted to meet a few of the guys who are going to be seniors before the semester started. Get a feel for what I got to work with. See who the leaders are and what not. Name’s Pierce McCoy.” Coach McCoy held out his hand which Devin shook.

“Can’t say that I much of a rah-rah guy, uh, coach. If you’re looking for someone who’s going to talk a lot, Jenkins lives in that direction,” Devin said, pointing in a general area. “Just look for the biggest house. It probably has a sign outside of it or something.”

“Between the two of us, that boy is something that I have no problem waiting until spring camp to try to deal with,” the coach said, laughing. “Let me level with you, Devin. You went from an unknown to the number 298 recruit in this class in one season. From walk-on offers from Nicholls State to LSU sniffing around. All in one year. That doesn’t come easy. Do you know who we’re going to have at quarterback?”

“Freddie? The JV kid?”

“Transferred from what I heard. It doesn’t even matter. They’re coming in after Ron DeRossi. A guy who is All-State and heading to TCU. Forgot big shoes to fill. They ain’t even in the same store. I need them to see that it’s possible to come in as nothing and be All-State by the end of camp. I need them to see you.”

“I still don’t get what you want from me.”

McCoy laughed. “Just make sure you have your ass out there for spring camp and don’t go changing into ‘Primetime’ on me. I’ll let you get back to your weed whacking. Hope that’s not how you’re ringing in the new year, though.”

“No, just finishing up.”

McCoy nodded and headed back to his truck. He stopped and turned around. “You know where to get fresh shrimp around here? The wife’s been craving shrimp but wants to cook it herself.”

“Shrimpers’ Row, probably,” Devin said, shrugging.

“That a place I can GPS?”

“Don’t know. I used to go down there with my ex-girlfriend’s dad. Just get on Grand Caillou and keep driving down the bayou. You’ll know when you get there.”

“Grand Caillou, keep driving down the bayou. Hope I don’t need a boat. See you in weights, Devin.”

Devin watched as Coach McCoy pulled away. He reached for the water bottle and brought it up to his lips. When nothing came out, he sighed and tossed it back to the ground before revving the weed whacker up and started to wrap up the yard work.

-*****-
“Caesar, I’m not going to meet your mother!” Kaley said through clenched teeth.

“What do you plan to do? Go hide upstairs? Better run now.”

“If I run, she’s going to hear me.”

The front door opened, and Caesar shrugged. “Too late, now. Should’ve ran while you still had a chance.”

Candice Jenkins walked into the kitchen, wearing one of her usual outfits that probably cost someone’s yearly salary. She set two packages on the counter between Kaley and Caesar and looked at her son. Then, she looked at Kaley behind thousand-dollar sunglasses.

“Ma, this is Kaley. Kaley, my mother,” Caesar said, turning the packages so he could read the label.

Candice slapped her son’s hand and shooed him away before taking off the sunglasses. She smiled at Kaley. “I like you already.”

“Huh?” Kaley said, confused.

“The other ones I’ve met. He never tells me their names. Except for that one from a few years ago.” Candice picked up the boxes and walked around the counter. She grabbed a knife out of a drawer and set to opening the packages. “But she was crazy anyway, and I can tell you’re not with him to try to get knocked up.”

“We’re not dating, ma,” Caesar said.

“No one’s talking to you, honey,” his mother said. “You just stand there and be quiet.”

Kaley held back a laugh and shrugged when Caesar shot her a dirty look.

The woman pulled a colorful wig and costume out of one of the packages. She nodded. “This is perfect.”

“Why do you have a clown suit?” Caesar asked.

“To send to your uncle because he’s a fucking clown. I also got him a dildo so he can go fuck himself or have his wife fuck him. Whatever he wants,” Candice said before putting it back in the box. She turned around and looked at Kaley. “Honey, woman-to-woman advice, always put men in their place when you have a chance. They are only good for their dicks anyway and you can buy that.”

“Ma,” Caesar said, sighing.

“What? I’m just saying.”

Kaley laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mrs. Jenkins.”

The woman held up a finger as if something had just dawned on her. “Kaley, you should come with us to New Orleans for this New Year’s thing. It’s just a bunch of stuffy old people, but there’s free alcohol and I’ll look the other way on that.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you could,” Caesar said.

“I don’t have any clothes here. I really couldn’t,” Kaley said, holding her hands up. “Thanks for the offer th—”

She was cut off when Candice grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “If clothes are the problem then we can solve that. And we’ll get something done to your hair. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it’s my treat.”

Kaley looked back at Caesar for help as she was practically dragged out of the kitchen by Mrs. Jenkins. Caesar only shrugged and chuckled.



Caesar shook the hand of an older man with a much younger wife draped on his arm. “I definitely will, Mr. Fontenot. Thanks to the heads up.”

Kaley waited until they’d walked off and leaned over to Caesar, being careful to keep the wine flute in her hand upright for fear of spilling it on the expensive dress she was wearing. “You’re quite popular with all these rich people for a teenager. I don’t know how you keep all their names straight.”

“I’m an upsized meal ticket. Rich parents, and probably going to be rich on my own. They all want me to date their daughters. That’s why they’ve been giving you dirty looks,” he laughed.

“I thought it was because they knew I was middle class trash.”

He shook his head and wrapped his arm around her waist, pointing into the crowd. “I remember them by their wives, or lack thereof.” He pointed to a balding man with round glasses and an auburn-haired woman nearby. “That’s Mr. Hebert. That’s the third Mrs. Hebert. He has a thing for redheads. His daughter’s pre-med at UL.” He pointed to another couple. “That one is Mr. Izaguirre. He likes fat blondes. Last we spoke, his daughter was headed to Houston. Petro-tech or something. And over there is Mr. Hebert. He has two daughters and probably as many wives. Concert pianists or some shit.”

“Sounds like they are trying to get their little princesses into a power couple.”

“I hope it didn’t take long for you to figure that one out.” He looked down at her. “But I think I’d rather have a world-renowned lawyer making me an honest man.”

Kaley sighed. “You know, this is all temporary right? I’m going to go back to Slidell and beg David to take me back. You’re going to go back to fucking every girl you come across until you graduate and go to some college—”

“Oklahoma State.”

“Until you go to Oklahoma State and continue to fuck every girl you come across. This is just a fairytale that’s going to end, literally, when the clock hits midnight.”

“Why? OK State has a pre-law program just like Tulane. My mom’s already out here getting manis and pedis with you. That doesn’t come easy. A few more months and she’d kill a bitch to get you in there.”

“Why can’t you go to Tulane?” She only gave Caesar a few seconds to answer before continuing when he didn’t say anything. “Exactly. It just doesn’t work.”

He walked around her and crouched down so their faces were level. “I don’t know what in the last week have told you I’m just going to give up. You want to do the long-distance thing? Let’s do that. You want to just be on and off every six months? Done. I’ll be the fucking side man. We have a private fucking jet. I’ll fly you from New Orleans to Stillwater every weekend. Don’t test me.”

“Y’all really have a private jet? Like just for y’all? Jesus Christ, y’all are really really rich.”

“That’s all you got out of that?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure that I heard that part right.”

“Kaley. Get off the fucking jet.”

“I actually want to get on the fucking jet.”

Caesar ran his hand over his face. “Look, I want this okay. You tell me what I need to do to make it happen.”

She smiled. “We’ll play it by ear.” She nodded over his shoulder. “Besides, it looks like another old guy is heading this way to try to pawn his daughter off on you.”
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 12 Jan 2020, 20:06

Weed whacking on 12/31? Can't relate
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djp73
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 12 Jan 2020, 20:14

All them Heberts
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 14 Jan 2020, 17:21

New Year, Same Me

“No, no. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’ve got to be talking to a pod person who took over your body over the Christmas break! Tell me, Caesar if that is your name, when were you born?”

Caesar dropped his fork onto the table and rubbed his forehead. “Ron, it’s 7 in the fucking morning and I’m sitting here eating this disgusting ass breakfast burrito thing. You asked. I told you. That’s what happened. I don’t know what else to tell you. I gave her the keys on this. Like I just said.”

“Anthony, Bentley. Do y’all believe what he just said?” Ron asked the others. They both shook their head as Anthony struggled to not fall asleep in the tray in front of him and Bentley scrolled through his phone. “See? Three people at this table don’t believe that Kaley, uh, what’s her last name again? Nevermind that, that Kaley stayed at your house for a fucking week and you didn’t fuck her again!

“Why are you even here? TCU doesn’t have an issue with their top recruit not enrolling early?”

Ron shrugged. “They already sent me the playbook. I want to take the ACT a couple more times and see if I can test out of some courses so I can graduate early. It’d be nice to be cruising by junior year with a degree in hand.”

“Couldn’t you have done the same thing if you enrolled early?” Bentley asked.

“Well, yeah, but--”

“He just wants to keep fucking high school pussy because he’s afraid he won’t get any in Fort Worth. The only Power 5 starting QB to not get pussy in the history of pussy or Power 5 starting QBs,” Caesar said, picking up the plastic fork again and starting to pick at the burrito once more.

“As long as I don’t have willing women sleeping at my place and not even getting some head then I’ll be fine. Especially if it’s an extremely hot piece of ass.”

“Why are you even here again?”

“I don’t know. I guess I could probably skip and head up to Slidell. It seems Kaley ain’t getting none from you and you probably ruined her relationship so she needs some dick.” Ron scratched his chin, miming as if he was pondering one of life’s important questions.

Caesar sat back. “You ever seen a man get killed with a plastic fork?”

“Who’s killing who?” Anthony asked, his voice groggy.

“That’s fratricide, bro. Cain and Abel almost,” Ron said.

“I’ll take that charge.” Caesar went back to trying to find the more edible parts of the breakfast burrito. “It should be illegal to serve this shit to children. So, Ron, what’s the real reason that you didn’t enroll at TCU early? Knocked that Congressman’s daughter up and trying to get her to take a hanger to it?”

“How barbaric. Mifepristone and misoprostol, man. A fucking hanger. Trump didn’t pack the courts back in the day for rich people to resort to such things again. But no, I’ve only seen her once since that one time. Honestly? I just want to take it easy for a few months.”

Bentley nodded. “That’s a smart move.”

“Until he’s behind on the depth chart, gets redshirted, has to transfer to UTSA or some shit, all because he wanted to take it easy for a few months,” Caesar said.

Anthony pointed at Caesar and mumbled “Valid point.”

“I’m going to start. Not even on some ‘that’s what the coach told me’ shit. Starter’s going pro. Backup is graduating. Two rising sophomores in the QB room who haven’t played a snap. Another guy coming in with me. I’m going to start.”

“Start the line of motherfuckers holding up playcards, you mean. ‘Hey, is that Ron with the Tekashi 6ix9ine card up? That must be the call to flip the play! They’ll never get that pop culture reference from 30 years ago!’” Caesar said.

“You just worry about Oklahoma State not changing their mind on your bum ass before you commit.” Ron looked around the cafeteria and then back at his friends at the table. “But I’m expecting parties every weekend until May. If I’m going to be here, I might as well go ahead and get acquainted with some of the ladies here that I haven’t met yet.”

“That’s what we’re calling rebounds now?” Anthony asked.

Caesar turned to Ron and laughed. “What could you have possibly done to Francesca to get her to break up with you? You tried to fuck her in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Nah, it was a mutual split. She told me she was seeing some guy we went to Vandebilt with behind my back. Adam Fazzio?” Ron shrugged. “I don’t know him. He’s going to Tech so I guess she’s trying to bring some sand to the beach. I told her about Marie, Sadie, Michelle, Piper, and that one girl we met? With the twin?”

“She didn’t have a twin.”

“Are you sure? I remember her blowing you then I fucked her twin.”

Caesar shook his head. “Ron, she didn’t have a twin. I told you not to drink that absinthe shit.”

“Hm. Strange. Anyway, parties, every week.”

“My grades are already tanking. I don’t know if I’m going to commit to every week. I might have to do some actual studying this semester,” Bentley said.

“If you’d stop trying to be high all the time, you could talk one of these girls here into doing the shit for you, dumbass,” Anthony said.

“Says the guy that always gets high with him,” Ron said.

“But I’m not complaining about my grades because I have girls willing to do my homework for me if I’m too high to do that shit.”

Caesar shoved the tray with the breakfast burrito away and sighed. “Ron, you know that you live in a big ass house and can throw as many parties as you want right?”

“Why do that when you parents are never home?” Ron asked.

“And yours are?”

“Touche.”

Caesar glanced up and spotted Scarlett and her two bosom buddies walking into the café. He snatched up the tray and stood up. “Y’all figure that out. I got some business to handle.”

“Now, he wants to move fast,” Ron said, shaking his head.

-*****-

Devin coughed as he walked through the mist of entirely too much body spray for the beginning of a P.E. class. It was one of those age-old traditions of high school boys that he was glad he never got roped into. Yet, he still suffered.

He barely had time to catch the basketball Hasan had thrown at him when he stepped onto the court of the Field House. Devin threw it back as he scratched at the itchy material of his gym shirt.

“I don’t get why we can’t just be in weights all year. This little gap ain’t nothin’ but some bullshit,” Hasan said as he shot the ball toward the rim. It clanged off the front of the rim and came back at him. He glanced at Devin. “Don’t say shit ‘bout my jumper.”

“You have to jump for it to be a jumper. What would you do with the people who decide to quit the team or not go out for spring camp if we were in weights the entire spring?”

“Fuck them. I’m wastin’ good time I could be bulkin’ up ‘cause I’m up in here shootin’ a damn basketball.” Hasan took another shot and it also missed. He jogged over to collect the rebound and went for a layup but it banged off the bottom of the rim and nearly took him out.

Coach McCoy walked out of his office and tossed two other basketballs to other students in the class. He shook his head as he watched Hasan. “Sweet baby Jesus, please lay your hand upon this child’s head and let him know that he ain’t got no business playing basketball.”

“I’m just warmin’ up, coach,” Hasan said, bricking another shot.

“I’m afraid to see what your shot looks like when you’re warmed up.” the coach turned to Devin. “You know how those conservative types tell athletes to ‘shut up and dribble’ when they make political statements, like they’ve been doing for the last hundred years?”

“I don’t follow politics, coach,” Devin said.

“You don’t have to. My point is, I bet they’d rather Hasan keep talking if they seen how he dribbles.”

“That’s messed up,” Hasan said.

“Just calling it how I see it.”

A student that towered over the teacher escorting him into the building stopped in front of Coach McCoy. Coach exchanged some words with the teacher and the student was left behind.

“My God, son. You are one tall mo--…" McCoy caught himself before he cursed. “You’re one tall son of a gun. What’s your name?”

“Jurgen Jones.” His voice didn’t quite fit his body, the German accent didn’t quite fit the last name and the first name didn’t quite fit what you saw.

“How tall are you, son?”

“195 centimeters.”

Coach McCoy looked at Devin and Hasan, but they only shrugged. “Boy, I’m a football coach. I can tell you anything about reading a defense, but I don’t know a damn thing about centimeters. In American measurements?”

Jurgen tapped his fingers for a moment. “I’m not sure. Maybe 6’5”?”

“You play football?”

“American football?”

“Yes, that one.”

He shook his head. “No, just the other football.”

“What position?”

“Goalkeeper.”

“Hm, so you’re good with your hands. Alright, go ahead and get dressed out. You’ll have to go over to the girls’ gym to get a shirt and some shorts because it’d make too much sense to keep that in the bigger building.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“I’ll show you. Go and wait for me in the locker room. We’ll take the back way. It’s faster.” Coach McCoy steered him in the right direction toward the locker room. He waited a bit and turned to Devin and Hasan. “I need you two to convince that boy to play football for us.”

Hasan raised an eyebrow. “I know people make the jump from basketball to football, but soccer to football? You tryin’ to make him a kicker, coach?”

“Hell no, son. I want him at receiver. That boy is about eighty strudels too light to be a tight end, but him and Caesar out wide? I could put you at quarterback and you should be able to hit one of two 6’5” targets.”

“Is that a short joke?”

McCoy waved his hand and shook his head. “Nevermind that. Just find some way to convince that big ass German that he should play football for us. Devin, you got that, right?”

“I’ll try.” Devin shrugged.

“Don’t try, son. Make it happen.” The coach jogged toward the locker room calling Jurgen’s name, probably fearing that the other half of his dream wide receiver pairing had disappeared into thin air.

Hasan started dribbling the ball, crossing it through his legs. “You know, I could probably play quarterback if I really tried. It’s a lot of dudes out here that ain’t 6’2” under center.”

“Are you even 5’2”?” Devin asked.

“Look, just get me on the outside and I’ll slang that bitch. Nigga don’t need no offensive linemen to look over if I can’t be touched in the backfield.”

“Alright, man. I’m sure McCoy would love to have a quarterback that has to rollout every play. You’ll be getting smashed with corner cats every other down.”

“Hatin’ ass niggas. Boy, I tell you.” Hasan stepped up and took another shot, which also clanged off the rim.

Devin jogged up and snatched the ball from him before taking a jumper over his own. It banked off the backboard and swirled around the rim twice before dropping through the net. He raised his arms aloft as if he’d just hit the game winning shot in the deciding game of the NBA Finals.

“Motherfucker hits one shot and thinks he’s Bronny.”

“Nah, I think I’d drop that nickname when I became a grown ass man. More of a Shane Bishop shooter.”

“Trash.” Hasan jogged over and picked up the ball. He tossed it at Devin. “First to 11.”

“If you want to get embarrassed in front of all these people, suit yourself.” Devin stepped back and shot a three that banged off the backboard, but he was already running behind it and laid it back in.
Last edited by Caesar on 14 Jan 2020, 19:16, edited 1 time in total.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 14 Jan 2020, 19:13

Vanderbilt or Vandebilt ??
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 17 Jan 2020, 17:13

Here Comes the Taxman

The first few weeks of the spring semester of his junior year had passed in a blur. Without football to keep him occupied, Caesar found himself getting bored more often than not. And there was only so much extra training someone could do before they risked fucking something up. Even taskmaster Deion Jenkins knew that.

The problem was that bored Caesar was synonymous with horny Caesar.

“I just don’t understand what’s the problem. I don’t think that she’s that much prettier than me and she doesn’t seem that nice. And that friend of hers is a bitch. I just don’t see how all of that fits together to even be remotely attractive. Don’t you think?”

Caesar picked his shirt up off the floor and tugged it over his head. “I don’t know and I really, really, really don’t fucking care, Scarlett. If you were that bitch ass motherfucker, would you take you back if you knew that you’d been getting fucked by me?”

“Well, no, but we’ve only had sex three times. That’s not a lot... is it?” Scarlett asked.

“It’s a lot more than zero. You need me to walk you out or you think you can manage it?”

“You know I’m not going to walk through your house alone. What if your parents are downstairs? Do you know what they’d think of me?”

He sighed and stood up. “Not any more or less than they think of any other girl that they see in here with me, I’m sure. Let’s go.”

The two of them made the trek from Caesar’s room to the front door downstairs; Scarlett trying to keep Caesar in front of her to block any direction someone could see her from.

It was all for naught.

Caesar’s mother passed by at the bottom of the stairs and glanced up at the two of them.

“When you walk your friend out, Caesar, your father has something that he wants to tell us,” she said. She stopped before walking toward the living room and stepped back. She sighed. “I would tell you to go put on something else because your grandparents are here but we’ve already waited long enough.”

Caesar looked back at Scarlett who blushed and all but ran out of the door, pausing only briefly to close it without it slamming behind her. Caesar looked down at his attire of an old Vandebilt weights shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, shrugged and walked into the living room where his family were waiting.

His mother and his grandmother sat next to one another on one side of the room. Grandpa Marcus sat with his feet cocked up on the coffee table, probably the only person who could get away with that. His father stood next to the, now-repaired, window.

“Alright, I’m here. What’s up?” Caesar asked.

“You’re going to knock one of those little fast ass white girls up if you don’t watch yourself,” his grandfather said, wagging an admonishing finger at Caesar.

He scratched the side of his face. “Grandpa, I wouldn’t be here if you would’ve been watching yourself.”

Marcus Jenkins looked at his wife of many decades who only shook her head at the man’s comment. “Hm. I guess you’re right about that. That doesn’t mean you have go do what your daddy and I did. Save yourself for marriage, boy. It’s good for your kidneys.”

“My kidneys?”

“Don’t listen to that crazy old man,” Cassie, his grandmother, said. “I’m already thinking about donating his brain to science when he dies because there isn’t any way that he doesn’t have CTE or something.”

“I think the same thing about Deion,” Candice added.

Deion looked up from his phone before stashing the device in his pocket. He walked over to stand before his family. “So, I’m going to cut right to the point because there isn’t any reason to drag this conversation out.”

“We already know your dick don’t work, son. That’s why you only got one kid when I told you to have two or three,” Marcus said, laughing at his own joke.

Candice reached for a glass of amber liquid, probably whiskey, on the table and downed it in one gulp. It wasn’t later than 10 in the morning.

“Anyway,” Deion said, ignoring the insult. “I just wanted to tell you all, that it hasn’t been announced just yet but I’m going to be included in this year’s Hall of Fame class. First year on the ballot, baby!”

Caesar watched as his father hugged his parents and then his wife, all of them congratulating him on being inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Caesar walked up last to congratulate him.

Deion put his hand on the back of Caesar’s neck, a wide grin on his face. “Boy, you thought you were going to have it tough carrying the Jenkins name with two All-Pros coming before you, but now you gotta live up to being the son of a Hall of Famer, huh?!” He pushed on Caesar’s shoulder. “Hope you ready to carry this name on your back. It ain’t one to be sullied!”

Caesar chuckled, but he could already feel the weight of the next football season, starting weeks after his father was inducted into the Hall of Fame, starting to weigh on him. Before, he was just Caesar Jenkins, the grandson and son of Super Bowl champions. Now, he was going to be Caesar Jenkins, son of a Hall of Famer.

And he was already struggling to keep pace with the expectations.

“We’re going to Canton!” his father shouted as he and his grandfather left the living room, likely in search of some celebratory booze.

Candice must have noticed her son’s face because she wrapped her arm around his shoulders – as best she could given their massive difference in height – and walked him out of the room.

“You know you should bring someone with you when we go to Canton for all this Hall of Fame bullshit so you don’t have to sit around and listen to a bunch of old men remember their glory days,” she said.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “Yep. Ask Kaley. I think she was much better for you than those last few girls I’ve seen you hanging around with these last few weeks.”

“We aren’t dating, ma.”

“Only because you’re a man and men are stupid and blind,” she said, shaking the empty glass in her hand. “I’ll let you drink this one day to celebrate your father.”

“You already know that I drink.”

Candice shrugged. “Sometimes, I like to believe that we have a normal family life where I’d send you to your room for that so let me have it.”

“Alright, ma.”

-*****-

Devin hopped out of his car still running and jogged around to the passenger side. Opening the door, he grabbed a few bags of groceries from the floor before kicking it closed and jogging to the front door of his grandparents’ house.

He tested the doorknob to find it locked so he stepped onto the cement planter next to the door and grabbed the extra key from the side of the porch light. He wasn’t sure why his grandparents kept it there given that it was unlikely that either of them still had the leg strength to stand on a planter and grab the key without falling.

He maneuvered the bags and unlocked the door, calling out for his grandparents as he stepped inside the house.

His grandmother, Janice, shuffled around the corner, looking more haggard than usual as she smiled at him. “I didn’t hear you pull up, sweetie. Thanks for bringing us all of this. I hope that it wasn’t too much hassle.”

“No, I worked the early shift this morning so it wasn’t. I just have to go and pick up my girlfriend because we were going to hang out,” he said, trying to say that he needed to leave without saying as much.

“Well, at least let me make you a sandwich or something to take with you to thank you because we could’ve just got this delivered instead.”

Devin nodded, knowing that he didn’t really spend too much time with his family and letting his grandmother make him food wasn’t too much of an ask. “Yeah, a ham sandwich would be great. Thanks, grandma.”

He followed her as she, slowly, shuffled her way back into the kitchen. It seemed like his grandparents aged faster than other people’s. But they’d lived a hard life considering so maybe it wasn’t all that much of a surprise.

His grandfather sat at the kitchen table with a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose with an old laptop in front of him. The man needed more than readers, but he was too stubborn to admit so instead he enlarged the text on the screen.

“Thanks for the groceries, boy. I hope it didn’t run you too much,” the man said as he pecked at the keys, likely from not being able to find them than any lack of ability to use a computer.

“Nope. I had it covered.”

“Good. I would’ve told you that this was the perfect reason why you need to stop turning it down when the recruiters try to hand you a little money on the slick. You can get paid off your likeness you know.”

“Isn’t there paperwork that comes with that? And don’t you have to already be in college?”

“Don’t mean you can’t take the money. They ain’t worried about what happens to you so you shouldn’t be worried about that dumbass shit. Just tell them that you need to feed your kids or something and they’ll give you a little extra.”

“I don’t have any kids.”

“Lie, dumbass.”

“Don’t call him that and don’t tell him to do that,” his grandmother said as she grabbed the loaf of bread out of one of the bags that Devin had brought. “We only have Zapp’s. I know you really don’t like those.”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t want to make too much trouble,” Devin said as he sat at the bar. He looked at his grandfather. The man’s face was almost pressed to the computer screen and he was still squinting his eyes. “You seeing alright over there, grandpa?”

“I got 20/20, boy. I can see well enough to shoot the dick off a mosquito,” he said, sitting back away from the screen. “I’m trying to read this shit about filing taxes and I’m remembering why I never do this shit. You know taxes is the government way of stealing from the people. We ain’t ask for this shit so I ain’t paying it.”

“Isn’t that kinda illegal?”

“I ain’t paid no taxes since when I was in the league. They ain’t say nothing yet, they ain’t going to say nothing.”

“We need to pay it,” Janice said. “I’m tired of worrying about that every year.”

“You ain’t worried about nothing, woman. You don’t make no money.”

“We need to pay the taxes!”

Devin was taken aback by the outburst. He couldn’t remember a time, if ever, that he’d heard his grandmother raise her voice. He looked between his grandparents, feeling like he should probably leave but not knowing what to do.

“Don’t you see that’s what I’m trying to do!” Devin, Jr. shouted back. “If my son wasn’t such a little pussy and had one athletic bone in his body, I could be free of this shit right now and it’d all be paid for.” He looked at Devin. “Hopefully, you know what family mean.”

“Yeah, grandpa.” He didn’t. “Why don’t you just take that to an accountant or something? Or one of those tax preparers?”

“I ain’t let none of these rich white people look at my shit. They’ll say ‘oh, you been hiding something and now we gotta tell Bob, Billy and Mary.’ Fuck that. All this shit ain’t for nothing but for them fat cats in Washington to line their pockets. You remember that when you get to the league. Don’t trust none of ‘em. They don’t care about you.”

Devin nodded and turned to his grandmother, who was putting the sandwich in a plastic bag along with a handful of chips. She held it out to him with a smile.

“Thanks, grandma,” he said, taking it from her and standing up.

“No, thank you for bringing our groceries,” she said.

He waved goodbye to his grandpa who grumbled a goodbye as he had gone back to trying to make out the print on the computer screen.

Devin jogged out of the house to get back to his car, but stopped when he sat in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t too knowledgeable about tax laws, but if his grandpa hadn’t paid taxes since he was in the NFL that would be almost four decades of tax evasion. He shuddered at the thought of the IRS finding out about something like that.

Putting it out of his mind, he closed the door and pulled out of the driveway. That was a topic of worry for a different day.
User avatar

Captain Canada
Posts: 2158
Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 18 Jan 2020, 21:18

I like the developing you've been doing while the football season has been completed. Keep this shit going.
User avatar

djp73
Posts: 5347
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 20 Jan 2020, 14:58

interested to see how the big german fits in and if grampa leaves devin holding the bag
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