War of the Roses: Redux Edition

This is where to post any NFL or NCAA football franchises.
User avatar

Topic author
Caesar
Posts: 5848
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 20 Jan 2020, 15:07

If You Like Winning

Caesar rubbed at his eyes as he stepped out onto the football field, fresh off an impromptu nap in his art class. Curses were hurled at him from the students jogging around the track in P.E. as he walked across their paths.

He spotted Coach McCoy leaning against the near goalpost with a tablet in hand. He swiped a stylus across the screen, occasionally looking up at the class as they continued their circuit around the field. Caesar walked over to him.

“Mrs. Verdin emailed something for you to sign for me,” he said. He cleared his throat feeling that his voice was scratchy.

The coach looked up. “Remind me who Mrs. Verdin is again?”

“One of the counselors. You need to sign the shit to say that you know I’m playing football so that I can swap art for fourth hour weights.”

McCoy swiped his hand across the screen of his tablet to dismiss the window he was working on and pulled up his email app. “You aren’t interested in furthering your artistic pursuits? Colleges like when they have well-rounded students.”

“No one’s recruiting me to draw apples.”

“I s’pose that’s fair enough.” He turned the screen to Caesar. “Is this the form I need to sign to say that you’re going out for the team?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. You have to put on there that I need weights fourth hour next year, too, so they don’t try to schedule me in something else.”

“I don’t know if you’re going to be on the team yet so that’d be lying.”

Caesar raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to be on the team.”

Coach McCoy laughed and pointed at the front of the queue of students running the track. “You see that tall, lanky kid up there? New kid from Germany. Parents work at Stennis or something. I think I’m pretty close to convincing him to drop soccer for football. Won’t need you if I have him.”

“Isn’t that your runningback and star corner walking at the back?” Caesar said, nodding to Devin and Hasan.

“They’re alright. Who’s going to replace them?”

“You said that kid’s from Germany? You want him on the team?”

The coach nodded. “If I can figure out how to get him to think there’s more of a future in football.”

Caesar dropped his backpack, crouched down and tightened the strings on his shoes. He then stretched his legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Germans don’t like losing. The guy’s running in P.E. class when everyone else is jogging. He wants to be first. I’m going to burn him.”

“In boat shoes? You might be a little too full of yourself, kid.”

Caesar shook his head and jogged to the side of the track. He jogged in place in the grass while everyone passed him, giving him weird looks. The German kid rounded the corner and headed toward him at a brisk pace. Caesar let him get to the next curve before taking off after him.

He chewed up the gap quickly, boat shoes and all. When he sprinted by the kid, he turned around and jogged backward for a few steps. The German broke into a full sprint and ran by him so Caesar flipped his hips and followed.

When they rounded the next bend, Caesar kicked it up a gear and blew by again. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the gap growing quickly despite the guy’s attempt to catch up and he eventually gave up.

Caesar slowed to a stop and waited for him to catch up. The German stopped next to him and hunched over.

“Do you like winning?” Caesar asked.

“Who doesn’t like winning?”

“Then you don’t want to play soccer here,” Caesar said, starting to walk away. “I’ll see you out there, bro.”

Caesar walked back over to Coach McCoy to pick up his backpack and started toward the field house. He cringed at the bit of sweat on his uniform shirt and instead turned toward the gate that led to the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” Coach McCoy called. “Don’t you have class to get back to?”

He shook his head. “I just got your guy to tryout for the team. I’m not going back to class smelling like this. I’m going home.”

“Caesar, stop playing and get your ass back to class.”

“Alright, coach. Make me run stadiums in a couple weeks for skipping,” Caesar threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the gate.

He looked across the street and saw Emma cutting through the nearby church’s parking lot to get to the student parking lot. She glanced over her shoulder back toward a few times.

“Hey! You skipping?!” Caesar shouted.

She froze, deer in the headlights, and looked around. Her expression hardened when she saw it was Caesar who had yelled at her and not a teacher.

“Fuck you, Caesar,” she said before starting to walk again.

Caesar jogged across the street and fell into step next to her. “Where are you going, though?”

“It’s none of your business. We broke up remember.”

“Soooo… where are you going?”

Emma smiled. “I’m going to Jace Bascle’s house. He fucks better than you.”

Caesar laughed, slapping his thigh. “You’re fucking lying. Word on the street is that Jace suffers from finishing too fast so if you’re trying to make me jealous, you could at least find someone who doesn’t bust when a girl touches his dick.”

“Well, he’s nice to me! That’s enough for me.”

He stepped in front of her to stop her from walking. “You want someone to be nice to you or you want someone to make you cum? You’re fucked up like me, Emma. You don’t want nice. C’mon, I’m skipping, too. You wanna fuck?”

She scoffed, waved her hand and walked around him toward her car. Caesar watched her for a moment before shaking his head and walking to his own car.

He tossed his bag in the trunk and get in, pressing the ignition and waiting for the air conditioner to knock some of the heat off before putting the car in drive. He pulled out of the spot and left the parking lot.

At the red light, Emma pulled up alongside him and waved for him to roll down the window. He did so.

“I need to be home to get a package. Follow me?” she shouted over the sounds of the road.

Caesar smiled and nodded before pulling behind her when the light turned green.

-*****-
“Man, I hate that we’re always the ones that have to do this. Ralph’s always sending home the other fucking stockers when we have to scrub,” Will said as he held a hose in a floor cleaning machine to fill it with water.

Hasan, holding a scrubbing brush and leaning against the wall, looked up from his phone. “At least, we gettin’ paid by the hour. His ass on salary. He ain’t makin’ shit extra for keepin’ us here. And I don’t think they get overtime.”

“You know those white boys look out for each other. If they aren’t paying him overtime, then they are giving him money under the table,” Michael said.

“Hey, man. No one’s giving me shit under any tables,” Will said.

“That’s ‘cause you’re a light skin brother,” Hasan laughed. “You be around us so much that they forget you ain’t black.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Will said, confused. He held his hand out to Devin. “Can you hand me the cleaning shit?”

Devin looked to his right and grabbed a smaller hose off the wall to drop in Will’s hand. He yawned, wishing there was a way to speed along the process of filling the machine and they would have to do it another two times to clean the entire store.

“Devin, you see who they got us playin’ in our first game?” Hasan asked.

Devin shook his head. “I didn’t even know the schedules had come out already. It seems early as fuck for that. We haven’t even had spring camp yet.”

“I don’t know, man. You been here longer than me. It’s just the one game. These news motherfuckers say we’ll play eleven games next season and this one the first one.”

“This is the part where you say who the team is.”

“I was gettin' there, nigga. It’s Euless Trinity from Dallas. We playin’ them in Shreveport.”

“Terrebonne that major that y’all are playing teams from Texas and shit? I thought y’all fucking sucked,” Michael said, laughing.

Devin ignored the insult but asked the question it implied. “Why are we playing a team from Texas?”

“It’s some showcase shit. Six teams from Louisiana playin’ six teams from Texas a week before the season actually starts. Them niggas stacked, bruh, and apparently they be out there head huntin’ on defense.”

Hasan flipped his phone in his hand so Devin could see the screen. A highlight reel of the school’s games was playing. Most of the plays were jarring hits. Most of those hits were by one player. What looked like a defensive back flying around the field like a missile, seeking and destroying.

“Glad I’m not on offense then,” Devin said.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Will asked. “Concussions and shit?”

“Nah, those are clean hits,” Devin said, watching the end of the clip. “Guy must be a safety. That’s old school ball, though. Zero regard for his own body.”

“I expect that from crazy linebackers, not you punk ass DBs,” Hasan said.

Devin laughed. “Better let the crazy ass linebackers hit you instead of that punk ass DB. I’m going piss.”

The other three started a new conversation as Devin walked down the hallway to the employees’ bathroom. He heard arguing coming from the sales floor and made a detour to boot any straggling customers out of the store as they’d closed 20 minutes ago.

Instead, he found it was Ralph and Gina arguing.

Ralph looked at Devin and turned to Gina. “That’s it. I’m not going to keep going around in circles with you. I don’t care what it’s for. You want more hours, get a second job.”

He walked off, chugging an energy drink, before she could say anything else to him.

“What’s that all about?” Devin asked.

Gina sighed and ran her hand through her hair before turning to Devin. “You ever made a decision that you regret and wish you could go back and change?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You want to know what mine is? Not getting knocked up when I was 15. When I was dating Caesar. He was kinda scared to fuck, but I feel like I could’ve gotten him to slip up once or twice. That was a dumb decision. Should’ve just rolled the dice.”

Devin opened his mouth to speak but paused trying to process all that she’d said. Eventually, he spoke. “Why would you want to get pregnant at 15?”

Gina ignored that question. “Ralph’s a dickhead. Surely, fucking him a few times would entitle me to be able to pull a favor and get some extra hours to get some more cash flowing in but you know how men are, they don’t remember that type of shit.”

“Can’t say I know anything about that. Not really how I roll,” Devin said, getting more confused as the conversation continued.

“How would you feel about Carla selling pictures of her feet in a few months when she turns 18?”

“What?”

Gina waved her hand at him. “Nevermind, I’ll see you around.”

Devin scratched his head as she walked away. He turned to head back to the warehouse area of the store but was almost run over by Hasan driving the floor machine onto the sales floor.

“Thought you was goin’ piss?” Hasan asked.

“Got sidetracked.”

Michael pressed a scrub brush into Devin’s hand as he walked out of the warehouse. “No time for it now. Worst case scenario, go piss in a corner somewhere and we’ll just run the machine over it a few times.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“How do you think Will finishes the bakery so fast? He just pisses in the coolers and runs the machine through there a couple more times.”

“He’s lying, bro,” Will said. “I’m not the one who puts my dick in the dough for the French bread to ‘get back at the man.’”

“Thanks for letting me know to never eat the French bread in mornings after Michael has worked,” Devin said as he set the brush aside and headed to the bathroom.
User avatar

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

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 20 Jan 2020, 15:23

Gina's a freak. I like her.
User avatar

Captain Canada
Posts: 2159
Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 21 Jan 2020, 12:29

Hasan is easily the most underrated character thus far.
User avatar

Topic author
Caesar
Posts: 5848
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 21 Jan 2020, 18:06

Just a Few Rules

“Mr. King, would you like to give us an answer to the question?”

Devin glanced up from the doodling he was doing on the back of the desk in front of him. The teacher and some of the class were all looking at him, waiting. He hadn’t heard any of what had been said and had been caught red handed.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes, you’d like to give us an answer?”

“No, my answer is yes.”

The class snickered, letting Devin know that wasn’t an appropriate answer to whatever question had been posed.

The teacher turned around and walked back to the front of the class. “Apparently, Mr. King believes that it is a good idea for cells to mutate. I suggest you start paying attention, Mr. King, or you’ll be wondering what that new mole on your face is while also wondering why you’re one credit short of graduating come next year.”

Devin’s forehead furrowed as he ran a hand over his face trying to find this new mole that the old, ornery man was talking about. Fortunately, the bell rang giving him a reprieve from actually trying to pay attention to whatever the lesson was that day.

Devin joined the crowd of his classmates spilling out into the narrow and dimly lit halls of Terrebonne. Hasan walked out of a room across the hall and fell into step next to him.

“It’s that day, bruh,” he said. “First day of football season.”

“No one considers some random day at the ass end of March to be the first day of football season. We won’t even get on the field today. You remember how long it took to get through all those ‘first things first’ things last year.”

Hasan dapped up a student passing in the opposite direction and shook his head. “That’s ‘cause they had all them Vandy boys comin’ out for the team last year. A lot of them graduatin’, transferrin’ or just realizin’ they ain’t good enough to play ball.”

“And in all your wisdom, that makes you think that we’re going to go through this process any faster? We have a new coach, too. Who knows how McCoy is going to run things?”

“You ain’t look up nothin’ ‘bout him, did you?”

“No, why would I?”

“That man was a whole quarterback coach at UT last year. The University of Texas, nigga. I don’t know how Terrebonne swung it to get him to come to redneck ass Houma, but we ‘bout to be in for some college like shit. We ain’t gonna be havin’ that fuckery this season. Just watch.”

“So, you saying I should change position to quarterback to get some high-level coaching under my belt and see if I can swing a scholarship at a low level D1 in one year?”

Hasan stopped walking, earning him a perturbed shout and a shove from a girl who was walking behind him in the mass of students in the halls.

Devin stepped out of the crowd to let Hasan catch up as the two of them started walking again. “I’m just saying that if I’m supposed to be impressed by him being a former quarterback coach then I should probably take advantage of him being a former quarterback coach.”

“You know motherfuckers be sayin’ that you the smart one here, but you one dumb motherfucker when you want to be.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m still the smart one here. Aren’t you failing business English? How do you fail a language that you speak?”

“One, I ain’t failin’ shit. Two, fuck you.”

Devin laughed, turning toward one of the staircases in the building. “Better make sure you get those grades up before Coach figures out you’re too dumb to read the playbook.”

-*****-
Bentley held out a white pill to Caesar. He looked at it for a moment before plucking it from Bentley’s hand. “This better be a lortab or I’m going to come back from the grave and haunt your ass if I die from taking this shit later.”

“You didn’t have to take it from him, and you don’t have to take it later,” Ron said.

“You’ve signed from them now. You can stop acting like you don’t partake just as much as the rest of us. TCU isn’t going to kick you out.”

“If you’d actually go on more recruiting visits, you’d know that popping a couple pills is the least of TCU’s worries when it comes to their student-athletes.” Ron sat back against the table as a few people passed in front of his feet. “Speaking of which, you think your dad can take a look at this shit about my image rights and what not? I don’t need the money, but I’m not going to turn down an opportunity to make money off my pretty face.”

“There goes all of TCU’s commercial appeal. Fucked by a quarterback who looks like his cousins are his brothers and sisters,” Bentley said, laughing.

“One of was born in the boonies and it wasn’t me. Imagine having the claim to fame that you were one of the last babies born at St. Anne’s.”

Bentley stopped laughing. “They still deliver babies there, bro, and it’s in Raceland. That’s not too far into the backwoods. And I don’t see you ragging on Caesar for being born in Oklahoma City. That’s the country, too.”

“I know Caesar’s parents aren’t related.”

“Fair point,” Caesar said, tipping an imaginary cap.

“Fuck y’all,” Bentley said, shaking his head.

Caesar and Ron laughed before dapping each other up. A couple moments later, the big German from a few weeks back sat down at the table across from Caesar.

“You play football, right?” he asked, pointing at Caesar.

“He’s the waterboy,” Ron said.

“Carries the jocks, actually,” Bentley said, seeing an opportunity to sneak in an insult of his own.

Caesar ignored them. “Yeah, why? Decided you don’t want to lose every game on the soccer team? McCoy’s been trying to get you on the team all semester.”

“I don’t know anything about football. I’ve only watched a few games in my entire life. But everyone around here talks about it all the time so I figured something about it must be good or they wouldn’t talk.”

“It’s all me. I’m winning state this year. Everyone knows it.”

Ron turned around and tapped Bentley on the arm. “Caesar’s done gone plum crazy. He thinks he’s going to throw the ball and catch it then get on the other side of the field and play defense.”

“It must be the drugs,” Bentley said.

“I’ll take you under my wing and teach you the ropes. We’ll have you knowing everything inside and out by the time summer camp rolls around,” Caesar said.

“Okay. I’m Jurgen,” the German said.

“Nice to meet you, bro. Caesar.” He pointed to Bentley. “Bentley’s on the team, too.” Then he nodded to Ron. “This sack of shit is graduating in a few weeks so you can ignore him because he doesn’t matter.”

“How are you going to teach him shit outside of practice if you don’t have anyone to throw it?” Ron asked.

“Have you seen my spiral? Do you know who my dad is?” Caesar questioned back. He turned back to Jurgen. “I only got one question for you, though.”

“Sure, shoot,” Jurgen said.

Caesar leaned forward and gestured around the table. “If you’re going to hang with us, we don’t have the boring ass parties that the rest of these kids do. I know you Europeans know get out the box when there’s a good time to be had. I can’t be around anyone that’s afraid of some pussy, communal or otherwise.”

Jurgen looked around the table then smiled.

-*****-
Coach Pierce McCoy stood on the track below the bleachers as the throngs of boys looking to try out for the football team filled them. His coaching staff, all new to Terrebonne as part of the deal that convinced him to take the job in the first place, stood behind him. They were all young men. All of them had played football with him at Texas A&M during his college career.

He also stood next to a trash can filled with wood and a bottle of lighter fluid.

As the stream of would-be players slowed to a trickle, he adjusted his sunglasses on his nose and shouted for quiet. It took them a while, but they all eventually got the message and stopped talking.

He scanned the crowd and spotted Caesar toward the side. Jurgen sat next to him. The son of a bitch had gone and done it. He resisted the urge to laugh.

“Alright. I’m only going to say this once so make sure y’all listening good. My name’s Pierce McCoy. I’ll be y’all’s coach this season until they find someone better or I luck up and do an alright job and they keep me around.” He pointed to the men at this side. “This here is my coaching staff. Y’all will be getting to know them over the next few weeks. Their word is as good as mine so listen to them or you can go find a private school to play at.”

He paused and walked over to the trash can, picking up the lighter fluid. He doused the wood before tossing a match in and setting it ablaze.

He turned back to the students. “I only have a few rules for my team. One, you don’t quit. Two, keep it simple. Three, we go for it on every fourth down. Four, we might kick an onside kick or two even when we’re leading. Five, don’t make a fool of yourself. That’s it.”

A kid toward the front of the bleachers raised his hand.

“Yeah?”

“Coach, that’s five rules. You said a few.”

McCoy scratched his chin. “Good point. Rule number six, my team, my numbering system.”

The coach walked over to a cardboard box and pulled a jersey out of it. He let it unfurl to show the #17 on it.

“As most of you know, this is Mr. Jenkins’ jersey from last season. The managers do a great job of washing these damn things, I gotta say. There was a lot of fuckery on this team last season and Mr. Jenkins was likely at the heart of it all. Now, I believe in second chances so I’m willing to give him one and that’s why I didn’t tell him to not waste his time coming out here.”

He could see Caesar wanted to say something even from a distance.

“But we’re going to leave all of that in the past. Starting here today with a little demonstration. This is the past.” He held the jersey up. “This here fire is the present.”

He threw the jersey into the trash can.

Coach McCoy watched it burn for a few moments before looking back at the team. “We got Euless Trinity in five months. It’s going to be a long five months, gentlemen. Let’s get to work.”
User avatar

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

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 21 Jan 2020, 19:06

Burn it down and start over (again).
User avatar

Captain Canada
Posts: 2159
Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 22 Jan 2020, 11:29

Coach McCoy is like that huh? I fuck with his character already. (Cause Caesar a hoe).
User avatar

Topic author
Caesar
Posts: 5848
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 28 Jan 2020, 17:23

Burn the Fat Off Your Soul

“Pick up your feet! I know you ain’t tired out here! Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot! Don’t make me come show you how to run!”

Aaron Buchannon, Terrebonne’s new defensive coordinator, paced the bleachers as the players ran a circuit up the steps, along the top of the stadium, down the steps and along the bottom of the stands. It added a bit more to the exercise that there were stairs down into the underside of the stands interspersed along the bottom.

A freshman staggered to the railing of the stadium and proceeded to throw up over the side.

“Hey!” Coach Buchannon shouted, practically jumping down the bleachers to run over to the kid. “When you’re done with that wave of morning sickness, take your ass home!” He turned to the rest of the team. “If you can’t hang, I’m sure they got a great math club for you to join!”

Coach McCoy walked up into the stands. He eyed Caesar as he ran toward him.

“Pick up the pace or go home, Jenkins,” he said as the two of them passed. He looked back over his shoulder and watched as Caesar ran up the steps to the top of the stadium.



Coach McCoy blew his whistle and threw his hat to the turf. He held his arms out and turned around in a circle, looking at the receivers and quarterbacks that were around him. They all stared back at him confused.

“What am I asking y’all to do that y’all don’t understand? We did the conditioning already. This is day four. We got eleven more days. We. Do. Not. Have. Time. To. Teach. You. How. To. Fucking. Throw. And. Catch. The. Damn. Ball.” He picked up his hat and walked over to the quarterbacks. “Danny, come here.”

Danny Jackson walked up alongside the coach, his hands holding onto the neckline of his pads.

McCoy put his arm around the gangly freshman’s shoulders and pointed ahead. “Five step drop, all your cleats in the ground, throw it to your man. Hand to dick. Stop hopping. Caesar, get on the line. Give me an out.”

“You sure he can hit that?” Caesar asked.

“I’ll let you know when I need your opinion. Right now, just need you on the line,” the coach said.

Caesar shrugged and did as he was told. McCoy blew his whistle. Caesar ran the pattern. Danny dropped back, made sure his feet were set and threw the ball. It came out somewhat wobbly, but Caesar was able to catch it.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Jenkins. Now, get your ass on the line and run until I tell you to stop running,” Coach McCoy said.

Caesar threw his hands up in the air. “For what?”

“I don’t hear feet hitting the ground.”

“Fucking hell, man.” Caesar jogged to the other side of the field to start running.



Devin backpedalled. And he weaved. And he backpedalled. And he weaved. And he backpedalled. And he broke. His legs burned with a fury that he didn’t know was possible and he struggled to resist the urge to sit down and stretch them.

Reggie Franks, one of the new coaches, patrolled the line of defensive backs. He was a wiry man who nodded and said “yeah” a lot, but you weren’t really sure what he was saying “yeah” to or if it was a sign of approval.

“You got to be comfortable being alone against your man. I don’t care if prime Calvin Johnson, DeAndre Hopkins and Julio Jones come walking through that door. You better be ready to man up and shut them down,” Coach Franks said. “I don’t want to see my corners get beat on no bullshit. Let’s do it again.”

Franks blew his whistle and the group started backpedalling. One of the JV guys tripped over his feet out of exhaustion and fell to the ground.

“Oh, he beat! Jump over him. That man dead. Weave, don’t open up until I tell you, too!”

So, they backpedalled. And weaved. And backpedalled. And weaved. And jumped over the kid on the ground who didn’t have a chance to get up with everyone else jumping over him. And backpedalled. And weaved. And broke.



The team, spread out across the field, ran in place. Coach McCoy blew his whistle and they dropped to the turf. Some of them were slower in getting back up to their feet after a grueling practice. A few snapped their helmets off altogether and quit right there.

“We will be faster than our opponents,” Coach McCoy said, blowing his whistle again.

“We will be stronger than our opponents.” He blew his whistle again.

“We will last longer than our opponents.” Another blow of the whistle.

“We will hit harder than our opponents.” Another blow of the whistle.

“It’s not our job to stop scoring. It’s our opponents’ job to stop us.” He blew his whistle and started walking between the lines of players.

“We will make them fight for every inch, every yard. If they score, they’ll have burned the fat off their souls to do it.” One more blow of the whistle.

“We will never quit until we have victory.” He blew the whistle twice. “See y’all next week.”

He caught Caesar dragging ass behind the rest of the team as they jogged to the locker room.

“Jenkins, I figured you’d be in more of a hurry to go home. Or do you want to run some more!” McCoy shouted.

“Why the fuck are you riding me, man?!” Caesar shouted back.

Coach McCoy laughed, but didn’t answer as he walked off the field.

-*****-

Devin plopped two ice bags on his legs and groaned as the movement jostled his muscles enough to send pain coursing through his limbs. He dropped his head back against a pillow and sighed as he tried to move as little as possible.

Carla laughed at him from a chair across the room where she sat studying for a final.

“I don’t know what you find so funny about this,” Devin said.

“You’ve been playing football for how long? And one week with a new coach and you’re laying in my bed getting it all wet with melted ice and whining like a little bitch.”

“They’re trying to kill us. I’ve never seen so many guys just say fuck it they aren’t built for that. Guys passing out, throwing up. It’s really next level. Survival of the fittest type shit.”

She tapped her fingers on the tablet on her lap then looked up. “Does that mean that you’re going to get all chisled and what not by the end of the summer? I wouldn’t mind you getting all Greek God if the tradeoff is just making you throw my sheets in the dryer every few nights.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that. Mainly because I’m a little too dark to be Greek.”

“I guess but there was that basketball player way back in the day that was from Greece. With the name that was really hard to pronounce.”

Devin shrugged, wincing when his muscles protested against the action. “Never was much of a basketball fan so I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Oh well. He was Greek. He was all God looking. Works in this situation.”

“Fair.”

The two of them lapsed into silence as Carla continued to study and Devin could only muster the energy to stare up at the ceiling. He wanted to turn over and try to sleep, but sleeping on top of bags of ice didn’t sound like his ice of fun or comfort.

He thought about his first conversation with Coach McCoy a couple months back about being a role model for the team. It seemed like that conversation was with a completely different person after spending a week with McCoy and his coaching staff.

Hasan was of the belief that they were going over the top in the spring to scare the fringe guys away before the summer and get the team down to a manageable size. Devin wasn’t so sure that was the case.

Carla’s little brother, Chris, burst into the room, the door slamming against the wall. He brushed a few locks of floppy hair out of his face. “Mom said to let you know that you have to find your own food because she’s not cooking for you and Devin.”

“Got it. Now fuck off,” Carla said, waving her hand toward the door. “And knock before you come in here next time, you little shit.”

“Why? Y’all aren’t in here having sex.”

Carla grabbed a shoe off the floor and threw it at him, but he ducked and it flew into the hallway. “Get the fuck out.”

Chris laughed, but left anyway. But he left the door open. Carla got up and closed it with her foot.

“Have I ever told you how jealous I am of you because you don’t have any little fucktard siblings to deal with all the time?” she asked Devin as she sat back down and started scrolling through the material on the tablet’s screen.

“To be fair, he did at least give you some important information just now. I’m starting to get hungry and I don’t know if I can make it to my car to go find something to eat,” Devin said.

“Better get something delivered then. Give them instructions to bring it to the window and you can just roll over and get it from them.”

Devin feigned a gasp. “You would make me go through such lengths to get some food? Here I was thinking that you loved me enough to venture out into the dangerous Louisiana night to bring me back something to eat. Clearly! I was wrong!”

Carla nodded. “Just throw those bags of ice on the floor before you croak. Don’t want them sliding off your corpse and messing up the sheets.”

Devin sat up – slowly – and shuffled over to the dresser. He picked up Carla’s phone. He grabbed her hand and pressed her thumb to it to unlock it.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Ordering food with the instructions to bring it to the window. It’s your turn to buy dinner. I did the other night.”

“That’s not how the rotation works.”

Devin shrugged. “You agreed to it.”

“I’ll be sending you a money request as soon as you make that order. Get Chinese, though. I’m craving fried rice.”

-*****-

Caesar looked up at the girl straddling him, his hands lazily on her hips as she moved. He couldn’t remember her name and his mind kept wandering to the itchy pillow that his head rested on. He didn’t know where her parents had bought these sheets, but they should’ve gone to get their money back.

His eyes wandered to the window when he noticed the faintest bit of light sweep across it. Moments later, he heard a door open.

“Angelle! We’re home!”

Caesar all but shoved her off of him and sprung up. “I thought you said your parents were in Morgan City for the night,” he said in hushed tones.

“They were supposed to be. You have to hide in the closet or something. Get under the bed,” she said, struggling to find her clothes and pull them on.

“Look at me. I’m not fitting in any closets or under any beds. Go out there and stall your parents and I’m going to jump out the window.”

She pulled an oversized shirt over her head and nodded. “Good idea.”

He rolled his eyes when she darted out of the room, closing the door as she went. He looked down at the floor and cursed when he could only find one shoe, his pants and his shirt. He yanked the pants on and slid the window open, careful not to catch anything as he went.

When he touched the grass outside, he looked up.

And a man in the driveway was looking back at him.

They stared at one another, neither moving. Caesar glanced back at the window and then at the man. Bellowing “what the fuck,” he charged toward Caesar. Caesar hiked up his pants and sprinted away.

He cautioned a glance over his shoulder to see the man running back to his truck and yanking the door open. Caesar ran to the next corner, turned and jumped into the bushes lining the next street. His phone vibrated in his pocket and almost made him jump out of his skin.

Pressing himself to the ground, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” he whispered, still trying to catch his breath, as he saw headlights sweep across the pavement.

Kaley was on the other end. “Caesar? Were you asleep?”

“No, I was out for my run,” he said. He inched back into the bushes as a truck crept by.

“I thought you ran in the morning?” She sighed. “Nevermind, I just need to say something and I need you to just listen until I get it all out, okay?”

Caesar crawled out from the bushes and looked around. He grabbed his shirt off the ground and started walking in the direction of where he’d parked his car. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Kaley took a deep breath. “I left David. For good. It just wasn’t going to work anymore. He’d take me back if I asked, but I can’t do it anymore. When I was down there, you said you’d be alright with a long-distance thing--”

“Yeah, before you decided not to talk to me for three months.”

“Caesar.”

“Okay, okay. Go on. Sorry.” He froze and darted behind a tree when he saw headlights but exhaled and kept walking after noticing it was a car.

“I’m not saying that I think it’s going to work or that this is even a smart decision, but if you can tell me that you won’t be down there in Houma fucking every girl that you come across then I’ll make it work. If it lasts to next year, then we can just play it by ear on what to do next. I just don’t want to end up looking stupid.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You’re supposed to say something now,” she said.

“Oh. I won’t be down here in Houma fucking every girl that I come across. You won’t end up looking stupid. Just make sure you have your ass in Houma at least every other weekend and you have yourself a deal.”

“Didn’t know it was a negotiation.”

“If you’re going to be a lawyer, you gotta assume everything’s a negotiation.” Caesar walked into a church parking lot where he’d left his car. He nodded to a priest and a young couple leaving the church.

Kaley laughed. “I don’t think that’s how that works either, but I can agree to that.”

“Good. I’ll see you next weekend then.”

“Next weekend it is. I’ll talk to you later.”

Caesar hung up the phone. He swiped away a text from Angelle telling him that her dad was looking for him. He also deleted texts from a few other girls wondering what he was up to.

Walking around to the trunk, he popped it and grabbed a pair of shoes from it before getting in the car and heading home.
User avatar

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

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 28 Jan 2020, 19:02

He can't do it.
User avatar

Captain Canada
Posts: 2159
Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 29 Jan 2020, 01:02

He's going to fuck this up so badly.
User avatar

Topic author
Caesar
Posts: 5848
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 29 Jan 2020, 08:06

djp73 wrote:
28 Jan 2020, 19:02
He can't do it.
Captain Canada wrote:
29 Jan 2020, 01:02
He's going to fuck this up so badly.
Wow. Ye' of little faith. :smh:
Post Reply