War of the Roses: Redux Edition

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Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 18 Sep 2019, 20:19

Reset

Scarlett reached over and squeezed Devin’s hand, smiling at him when he looked up at her. She’d convinced him to go to church with her family – partly out of his guilt for not spending enough time with her recently and partly as an excuse to avoid going to church with his own family. They’d be angry about it, but at least he was getting a bit of Jesus in his life somewhere.

On the plus side, Catholic mass was much shorter than any Baptist service.

In his pocket, Devin could feel his phone vibrating and hoped no one else could. Hasan asked him to cover an early morning shift for him and after being told why it wasn’t possible, Hasan had been jokingly insulting Devin for the last few hours. His friend had called it a way to pass the time trawling the aisles of a mostly empty grocery store on Sunday morning.

Being someone who wasn’t religious, let alone Catholic, Devin didn’t understand any of the traditions going on around him. He just followed Scarlett’s lead. It had the bonus of endearing him further to her parents which was a win-win in any case.

After a few more minutes, everyone stood up and began to file out, so Devin did as well.

Scarlett’s mother turned to Devin and touched his arm while smiling. “Thanks for coming with us, sha. Lord knows we need more God in our lives.”

“It’s not a problem. I enjoyed it.” Devin said it with a smile, but deep down he was mostly lying. He could’ve done without sitting through anyone’s church service.

“We’re going to go grab lunch,” Scarlett said. “Let me know if y’all want us to bring something back for you.”

As expected, neither of her parents had a problem with her and Devin going to do anything. He found himself feeling bad about the arguments and small tiffs they’d had over the past few months. It was hard to deny that their relationship was basically perfect.

With a few more goodbyes to other folks Scarlett knew, the two of them made their way to Devin’s car.

Feeling a bit chivalrous, he opened the door for her. She thanked him with a quick peck on the lips as she got in.

“So, where are we going?” she asked when he got in on the driver’s side.

“Anything that’s not Waffle House. I don’t know how that chain hasn’t fallen apart and shut down after all this time,” he said.

“Because the food is good. You just don’t like it because it’s ‘dirty’ which isn’t even true.”

“How would you know? The health department doesn’t put grades on the door like they do in other states. All kinds of weird stuff could be going on in the back of that restaurant.”

She shrugged. “That’s why the food is good because of the weird stuff that’s going on in the back. No one wants food that tastes like bleach because it’s so clean.”

“Well, I’ll drop you off at Waffle House and I’ll go find something to eat that I won’t regret later.”

“We can just go to Mimi’s,” she said, laughing. “One day, I’m going to get you to eat at Waffle House and you’ll like it because you love me.”

“Risking death is a sign of love?”

“Yep.”

She connected her phone to the radio and put on some country music as she was prone to do. Devin shook his head but let her as he was prone to do despite hating country music.

“I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass these last few months,” Devin said. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction.

She looked at him and smiled. “I haven’t been the easiest to deal with either. I’m just not used to not being around you as much. I can adjust, but sometimes I get clingy. Annoying, I know.”

“Well, it’s the summer so we can go back to how things were before. For the most part anyway. Both of us work and I have football, so it’ll be tough, but we’ll make it work even if I have to go to church with y’all every week.”

“You start doing that and my mom will be dragging us up to the priest and demanding that we get married now.”

“Give me a couple years on that. I’m too poor now.”

She shrugged. “We could make it even if we were poor. As long as we have each other, it’d be alright. You’ll have to learn how to cook though.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you Cajuns all know how to cook? I figured y’all were born knowing your way around a stove.”

“Nope, I burn water.” Despite her saying it, Devin knew her well enough to know that she was lying. She just refused to cook around him. Women’s liberation and all that.

“I guess we’ll be eating take out every night.”

“Or Waffle House.”

Devin laughed and shook his head as the two of them fell into a companionable silence. It felt good to reset things with Scarlett. She was the one constant in his life and he didn’t like when they were even remotely on the outs.

-*****-
“You’ve been slacking, son.”

Caesar resisted the urge to look over at his father as his knees and calves burned from exertion. His feet danced through rings placed on the ground. At the end of the line, he planted his feet, turned, caught a tennis ball thrown at him by DeMarcus, threw the ball back and restarted the circuit.

It felt like he’d been doing the same thing for hours and his body agreed.

“Stop running like a bitch!” Deion Jenkins shouted as Caesar’s steps faltered and he missed a ring or two. “I know you’re not getting tired. Your mother says that you’re my son and if you’re my son then that means you ain’t no pussy because I didn’t make any fucking pussies, did I?!”

DeMarcus winced when Caesar bobbled one of the tennis balls, clearly beginning to tire. “You think he’s had enough, boss?”

Deion looked at his watch. “He hasn’t passed out yet, so no. He’s alright.”

Almost if on cue, Caesar’s legs cramped up and his running turned into an awkward hopping as he tried to keep going. Deion walked over to a pile of footballs and picked one up. He spun it in his hands, finding the laces as he’d done a million times before. With the precision and arm strength that had made him an All-Pro quarterback, he threw the ball just as Caesar rounded the end of the rings.

Not prepared for a football to be thrown at him, Caesar’s hands didn’t come up and the ball hit him square in the chest. The wind knocked out of him, Caesar doubled over and fell to his knees to quell the burning in his lungs.

Deion nodded to DeMarcus. “Good session today. I’ll get him to pick up all this shit. See you on Tuesday.”

The trainer looked between the two Jenkins men then nodded to his employer and headed around the house to leave.

Deion walked over to his son, shaking his head. “You’re supposed to be an All-State receiver, future All-American. Your mom could’ve caught that one.”

Caesar didn’t say anything, only rolling to a sitting position.

“You’ve been skipping sessions because you’re too busy getting your dick wet and getting drunk. Now, your instincts are slow. You’re slow. And you’re getting subpar practice at a subpar school with a subpar coaching staff. You expect to stay where you are on the recruiting boards if Terrebonne’s coaches are showing you how to improve? Do they even know how to improve a player?”

Caesar knew better than to interrupt his father when he was angry and ranting. Instead, the boy hung his head and just listened.

“I get it, though. I grew up the same way you are. You got these little cunts throwing themselves at you either trying to latch on to the gravy train or trying to get knocked up so you have to pay them child support. What 16-year-old boy would turn all that pussy down?” Deion paused as if waiting for an answer, but none came. “You’re going to start turning some of it down though. I’ll be damned if my kid looks as pathetic on the field as you did today. Either you’re going to be the best or you’re going to quit. Maybe you don’t have the Jenkins DNA.”

“I’ll fix it,” Caesar said, his voice strained from exhaustion.

“You’re damn right, you will.” Deion reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his phones. An angrier look appeared on his face as he put the phone to his ear, turning on his heel and heading toward the house. “I told you to never fucking call me. I don’t give a fuck what he needs--”

Caesar waited a few beats after his father entered the house before he stood up. He pulled up his shirt and looked down at this chest. A perfect red circle had formed where the ball had hit him. Scouts used to say Deion Jenkins’s accuracy sometimes let him down, but even as he aged, he was still able to hit his target from a handful of yards away with sniper precision.

He pulled the drenched shirt over his head and tossed it on the ground before walking over to a table that held his phone and a few bottles of water. He chugged two of them down, almost throwing it back up. Once his stomach had settled, he drank from a third more slowly.

Dozens of notifications appeared on his phone when he passed his thumb over it. Some from the guys, some from girls, none from any unknown numbers from the North Shore. That last bit disappointed him every day a little more

Sitting down, he started sending responses back. His finger hovered over a text from Emma. She’d been trying to get back into his good graces for a few months now. All the message said was that her parents would be at some function at the church for the rest of the afternoon.

His father’s words played on his mind. He needed to put more of a focus on football, but he was confident that he could continue to juggle his social life and the game.

In the end, he tapped out that he’d be there in a few minutes and hit send. Forgetting the equipment on the ground, he headed into the house.

Pierre stopped him with a plate of food. It looked especially bland.

“That doesn’t look remotely appealing, P,” Caesar said, looking at it with a grimace.

“Your father, he say to me to give you this to balance the beer,” the cook said. “It’s ch—”

Caesar waved his hand and took the plate from him. “It’ll probably be better if I think this is just the slop that it looks like.”

Pierre nodded and headed back into the kitchen. Caesar took another look at the plate then went up stairs to choke it down, shower and change. He’d worry about any repercussions later.
Last edited by Caesar on 18 Sep 2019, 21:20, edited 1 time in total.
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 18 Sep 2019, 21:11

Damn, nigga even treats Pierre like shit. Goddamn...
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Xixak
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Xixak » 19 Sep 2019, 07:53

Captain Canada wrote:
18 Sep 2019, 21:11
Damn, nigga even treats Pierre like shit. Goddamn...
Shut up nigga
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 20 Sep 2019, 21:46

Almost Not Fair

There were scouts in the stands. A lot of them. Devin could feel their eyes on him, on the other players, scanning the field. Practices during the spring were the first time he’d be exposed to scouts turning up to something other than games, and he still hadn’t gotten used to them.

Some of the guys were trying a little too hard, looking to get their name on someone’s radar. Hasan had given him the rundown. It was Caesar bringing them down to Houma, with a sprinkling of any other players worth giving a scholarship to, but mostly the receiver.

The team’s measurements had gotten out. Caesar had grown another three inches and now stood at 6’5”. But most importantly, according to Hasan, was that he hadn’t done as most people expected at immediately committed to Oklahoma State when he was pushed out of his mother into the world. Each day that Caesar Jenkins remained on the open market was another day that colleges not in Stillwater thought they had a chance to snag him.

And if there was one thing Devin had learned about Caesar it was that he knew when the eyes were on him, which made Devin the guy who’d be on the receiving end of whatever he tried.

Devin got into his stance as Coach Hill blew his whistle for the next rep of their seven-on-seven drills. Caesar stood across from him. Devin saw him glance up at the stands before he got set. He’d done it every single rep.

Ron snapped the ball and Caesar shot off the line. Devin bailed out of his backpedal almost immediately and ran behind him, but he’d be left behind by a pretty large margin. With video game ease, Ron dropped a pass over Caesar’s shoulder for a “touchdown.”

Jogging back, Caesar threw the ball back to Ron. As he passed Devin, he leaned close. He was laughing. “Maybe next time at least make it look like you’re trying to keep up.”

Devin bit his lip knowing that Caesar was trying to get under his skin. In a real game situation, no sane coach would’ve left Devin on an island against Caesar. A safety would’ve been over the top, so he was willing to let the insult slide.

The next rep went pretty much the same way. Caesar’s route running ability was far beyond what you’d expect from a high school kid and Devin was struggling to keep up. When he jabbed a foot into the ground to change direction, if you weren’t anticipating it, you were toast. Devin was beyond that at this point.

“I’m running an out,” Caesar said as they lined up once more. He pointed to a spot on the field. “I’m going to catch the ball right there.”

“Fuck off,” Devin said, not believing him.

Instead of playing the out, Devin decided that he’d cheat inside expecting Caesar to run an in. Which left the receiver wide open to catch the ball exactly where he pointed.

Devin had to fight the urge to shove him as he walked past laughing again. He saw his eyes flicker up to the stands again, following a few scouts who had moved around in the bleachers. His fingers moved as he counted them. Then he got set again.

Devin briefly weighed his options. He thought about just hitting him off the line, but Caesar wasn’t the only person on the damn field being recruited. It wasn’t his fucking show.

The ball was snapped and Caesar did a bit of a hop step before faking inside and breaking into a sprint upfield. Devin bit on the fake so he was a step behind. Putting his head down and digging deep for all his speed, he ran behind Caesar.

Ron underthrew him a bit making Caesar slow down to make the catch. Devin closed the distance just as the ball was coming down. He left his feet and stretched out his arm. He felt the impact of leather on the back of his arm as he barely avoided making contact with Caesar on his way to the ground.

He rolled to his feet and saw the ball laying on the grass. He looked up at the stands and saw a few of the scouts pointing in his direction, and for once on a football field, Devin had to struggle to contain a smile.

“That was fucking luck,” Caesar said, no longer laughing as they walked back to the line. “It was underthrown.”

“You would make a fucking excuse. Maybe you’re just a little slower than you thought,” Devin snapped back.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s one highlight ever is in practice.”

“At least I earned my right to talk shit, and wasn’t given it by my daddy.”

Out of the blue, Caesar shoved Devin and got in his face but a few other players quickly ran over and broke the two of them up before things could escalate as had been normal over the last couple weeks of practice.

Coach Hill blew his whistle, his face stoic. “Second team, get in there!”

As Devin walked to the defensive side of the field, he took a glance back to see Ron and Caesar arguing with one another; Caesar gesturing with his hands that the pass should’ve been thrown higher. The quarterback waved him off and pointed to where the ball was going and where Caesar should’ve been, obviously defending his pass.

He spared himself another smile before grabbing a cup of water from one of the managers.

-*****-
For being at work, Scarlett did a lot of sitting and waiting. It was the perils of working at a declining chain like Subway. Fortunately, Tiffany and Erin had shown up after a shopping trip to keep her company. Hopefully, her boss wouldn’t take a look at the cameras and see that she’d slipped them free cookies and free drinks.

“You never realize how boring summer really is until it comes,” Tiffany said, glancing at her cellphone as if trying to will a notification or a call to pop up on the screen. “It’s one of those times that I wish I could find a boyfriend that wasn’t a complete dick.”

“What about Devin’s friend, Hasan? He’s nice,” Scarlett said.

“Not my type.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “You have to be willing to go out and find a guy for that to happen. Isn’t Caesar the last guy you were with in any shape or form? It’s not like he’s boyfriend material.”

“Why not?”

“Because assholes don’t come bigger than him,” Scarlett said. “It’s hard to believe that anyone could be that full of themselves. I don’t know how people spend more than a few minutes with him without jumping off the Twin Spans.”

“You’ve literally seen him. That’s why girls put up with him. Guys around here have three body shapes. Fat, skinny or Caesar. Not to mention he has a big d—”

“That’s disgusting,” Scarlett said.

“But true, though,” Erin said, agreeing with Tiffany.

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “You just need to let Devin fuck you and call it a day, Scar. You know y’all are going to get married. What difference does it make if it’s not or in four years? You won’t go to hell for it.”

“Don’t try to pull that peer pressure shit on her so you can feel less like a ho.” Erin laughed.

“Didn’t you just say that it’s been months for me?”

Scarlett crinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’d like to think that, at no point, will I be doing any ‘fucking.’ That makes it seem so raunchy.”

“It is, but it’s so, so good.”

“Don’t listen to her, Scar,” Erin said. “You might as well just wait at this point. I’d recommend your first time being with someone who knew what they were doing anyway. First impressions and what not, but you’re not going to cheat on Devin or break up with him so you’ll have to make do when that comes around.”

“I find it hard to believe Devin doesn’t try anything. He’s a guy after all.”

Scarlett shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He doesn’t. And no, I won’t be cheating on him or breaking up with him. Sex is really not that big of a deal.”

“We’re going to run over to the Noty Kity and buy you a dildo and then I want you to come back and say that you don’t want the real deal,” Tiffany said, laughing.

Erin smacked her friend on the arm. “Now, that’s just nasty.”

“We’re people! Fucking is in the needs pyramid thing! I’m just doing what psychologists say we’re supposed to do. If Devin would try to get in her panties then Scar would feel the same urge and give it up.”

“Can we change the subject back to you trying to find a boyfriend?” Scarlett asked, feeling embarrassed at the content of the conversation. “There’s a guy who works at the video game store a few doors down who is pretty nice.”

Tiffany’s lips turned up in disgust. “I’m going to pass on that one. The guy’s probably a pedophile first of all.”

Scarlett shook her head and decided to sit back and just listen as her friends went back and forth on Tiffany’s dating prospects. For the briefest of moments, she wondered if she’d keep her promise to wait until marriage if Devin really tried something with her, but she quickly put it out of her mind. She’d made a commitment to that and she’d keep it.

-*****-
“Now, this ain’t quite Texas beef, but it’s pretty good for something you boys out here in Louisiana considering what passes for chow here.”

Ron faked a laugh, as he’d been taught to by his father when hobknobbing with Congressmen, before taking a sip of water. With a who’s who of southern Republicans in New Orleans for the Southern Republican Leadership Conference, Antonio De Rossi had returned from his lobbying in D.C. at the request of two representatives looking to meet his son.

Houston Corbyn – named after the man, not the city – hacked at the rare steak on the table in front of him. Texas’s 12th district representative from Fort Worth was seated between his third wife and his youngest daughter, a senior bound for TCU. Ron thought she was pretty enough outside of the scowl on her face as she poked at the food on her plate.

“Well, considering there’s only two things in Texas, I’d hope that the beef was the thing y’all got right,” a younger man across from Ron said. Chase Landry, Louisiana’s rep out of Lake Charles, was a rising star in the GOP. A vet who wasn’t afraid to reach across the aisle when needed. He just needed a wife before those conservatives started to get the wrong ideas.

“Watch yourself. I ain’t as young as you are, Chase, but I haven’t put down my dance card yet.” Corbyn laughed at his own joke. His wife laughed with him though you could tell hers was fake.

Landry turned to Ron. “Back in D.C., your dad and I were talking about where you’re headed for college. A little birdy told me West Point’s been sniffing around you. I can’t say I’m surprised. Being a part of the Long Gray Line is an incredible honor.”

“Yes, sir. It is,” Ron said, nodding.

“Is that your way of saying you’d nominate him for admission, Chase?” Antonio De Rossi asked. Ron’s father gave the young representative a wink as if he already knew the answer to the question.

“I would, but I think my friend from Texas’s 12th has something to say about that.” Landry picked up his glass of Bourbon and sipped from it, eyeing a staffer who was bent over a nearby table speaking to her boss.

Corbyn dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and dropped on top of the half finished steak. “I ain’t going to bullshit you, kid. I need you at TCU. I done seen a lot of good quarterbacks, but you’re what we need. If the Army thinks you got that level of leadership then TCU needs it. I’m tired of lazy, leftist students going through those doors and not bettering the school.”

As if having heard this spiel a million times, the representative’s daughter excused herself with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. Ron watched until she disappeared into the crowd.

“I’ve already talked to Coach,” Corbyn continued. “You’d start, son. We need another championship.”

“My boy does know how to win,” Ron’s father said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I’m still debating what I want to do, sir,” Ron said.

The Texan waved the comment off. “You got your mind set on the Academy? I can respect that. Hell, we need more Americans like you if you do. How about we make ourselves a deal? You willing to play ball?”

Ron shrugged. “Depends on the deal.”

“I knew I liked this kid,” Landry said, laughing.

“You give me four years at TCU and I’ll nominate you for admission to West Point.” He pointed to his Louisianan counterpart. “That little shit might not be in Congress anymore by that time.”

“Don’t you have an, what did the media call her, an AOC version 2.0 Democratic Socialist breathing down your neck? I won my district by 17 points and the fella in second wasn’t blue.”

“I ain’t worried about that bitch. Ron, we got a deal?”

Antonio De Rossi had taught Ron a lot of things, including knowing when to leave a deal hanging in the air.

Ron pushed away from the table. “I’ll think on it. If you all will excuse me, I have to use the facilities.”

He left the men to squabble over whatever it was politicians argued about when it wasn’t fiscal notes and lost T.O. He weaved through the crowd of Congresspeople and hangers-on until he found Houston Corbyn’s daughter standing on a balcony. At some point in the short time she’d been up from the table, she’d acquired a glass of wine.

“Nine out of ten doctors would recommend not combining alcohol with standing on balconies,” Ron said, having to lean close to her to be heard over the din of the schmoozing.

“You already got the seal of approval from the Congressman. You don’t think I haven’t seen all my sisters get hounded by social climbers? I’ll pass on being the housewife standing next to you when you run for office.”

Ron shrugged and leaned on the railing. “You want to know a secret?”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a Republican.”

“That’s your secret? I think they’ll be alright as long as it stays in here.”

“How about another one then?”

“Only if it’s good.”

He stood up and stepped closer to her. “I don’t need or want you so I can climb any social ladders. If you’re game, I’m just trying to fuck. I don’t even care what your name is. You can find your politician husband somewhere else.”

Her jaw dropped a bit before she caught herself. She looked around as if thinking on the offer. Downing the wine in one gulp, she grabbed Ron’s wrist and pulled him back through the crowd toward the bathrooms.
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 21 Sep 2019, 23:19

Ron is a real one. I love how you build up your characters. Truly interesting shit.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 23 Sep 2019, 19:26

That's Not You

Caesar sat in a park underneath the Twin Spans in downtown Houma. He eyed the people fishing, walking the track or simply sitting and enjoying being on the waters of Bayou Terrebonne. A barge passing on the Intracoastal ground against the sides of the canal as it passed in the just-wide-enough channel.

For a Saturday morning, the park was mostly devoid of grandmothers and grandfathers getting their steps in to stave off whatever ailments that would fix. Instead, it was young couples and their children playing.

A boy approached Caesar from a neighborhood across the street. Sweat dripped from his brow, likely due to the hoodie he was wearing. He sat down next to him, but neither of them acknowledged the other.

“Why are you wearing a fucking hoodie in 100 degree heat?” Caesar asked, still looking forward.

“I thought this was something people did when they went out for runs and shit. You’re the sports star. You tell me.”

Caesar shook his head. “Yeah, if you want to fucking die. This is Louisiana, not California or Arizona. It’s over a hundred with a hundred percent humidity. My shit better not be in your soggy ass pockets or I’m not paying, Trey.”

“Stop bitching or you can carry your ass down the street to Stovall or PC and get it. It’s going to be two-fifty.”

Caesar pulled a few bills out of his pocket and dropped them on the bench between them. Trey pulled out a small bag of a couple dozen pills and did the same before shoving the money into his pocket, getting up and walking back toward the street he’d come from.

Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to him, Caesar picked up the bag and pushed it down into his sock.

Standing up, he stretched his legs for a moment before starting to walk across the park. Before he was halfway to the street, a girl no older than 6 or 7 ran into him and wrapped herself around his lower half.

“Caesar!”

He looked down at the dark-haired child and glanced around for the older version of her that was likely lurking somewhere nearby. “Heeey, Ava.”

The little girl smiled up at him for moment and then frowned. “You never come around anymore. You used to always.”

“Ava, go play.”

Caesar sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples as he felt a headache already coming on at just the sound of that voice.

“But, Gina. I was talking to--”

“Now, Ava,” Gina said, her voice firm.

The little girl looked up at Caesar, saddened. “Bye, Caesar.”

“See ya, kid.” He spared her a wave as she trudged away. “You’re really shit at the whole being a nice big sister thing, Gina. I figured you would’ve grown out of that by now.”

She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, half in defiance and half because she needed to look up at him even with a bit of distance separating them. “You’re really shit at everything, but no one holds that against you. I wouldn't expect you to grow out of anything though.”

“Fuck you, Gina.” Caesar turned to leave.

“I’ll give you that you’re still good at running away, though, and being a scared little bitch.”

He turned back around. “What do you get out of this? Does it make you feel better that you got something on me? Mad because your parents are broke and you have to work so you still need to one-up the private school kids? You want some money? There’s a corner right there.” He nodded over his shoulder for emphasis.

“You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not with me, Caesar. Ron’s not here. I know you better than they do.”

“You don't know shit.”

She smiled then leaned down and pulled the baggie out of his sock. He snatched it out of her hand.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, shoving the bag into his pocket.

“You’re the only person I know who thinks a sock is a good place to hide shit. That’s more of that new act, huh? Popping pills? Is that how you get all the Vandy Candy? Give ‘em a few Roxies and a few Xans to drop their panties?”

“How do you manage at Houma Christian? There are only like five dudes there. Must be hard for you to get your fill. Pun intended.”

Gina laughed. “You don’t have to worry about me getting mine. Are you mad that you aren’t on the list? Hurts doesn’t it?”

“You’re fucked in the head, you know that? You enjoy your day doing that big sis shit. Try not to do nothing weird around Ava and corrupt her, yeah?” Caesar flipped her off as he started to walk away.

He glanced back over his shoulder just as she turned around. Sighing to himself, he faced forward to pick up his pace and start jogging back toward his house.

-*****-
“Give me two lines over here! Receivers and DBs!” Coach Detiveaux shouted. “Time for some one-on-ones.”

Coach Perkins, who mostly worked with the receivers, walked behind him but didn’t say a word. It was common knowledge that the two coaches didn’t get along. A rift that seemed to be deeper than the one between Coach Hill and Coach Thomas.

Caesar squatted down in front of the line of receivers, chewing on his mouthpiece. He and Skylar made eye contact with one another. The nickel corner shook his head and switched places with Devin who was standing behind him.

Devin was confused for a moment before he realized that Skylar was literally running from being the person matched up against Caesar for the first round of drills.

“Boy, you a whole pussy,” Kenyatta said to his fellow defensive back, noticing what he’d done.

“A whole pussy? Opposed to what? A half a pussy?” Skylar asked the boy now behind him. “I don’t see you stepping up.”

Kenyatta shrugged. “We all gotta go up against him. It don’t matter if it’s now or later.”

“Alright, give me the first two!” Coach Detiveaux shouted, spinning a football in his hand. He glanced at his counterpart, but Coach Perkins only nodded to the line of receivers.

Caesar and Devin stepped up to the line. Caesar was still chewing on his mouthpiece as if he was about to through a walkthrough.

“Hut.”

Caesar faked to the left and then the right before turning upfield. He pushed Devin’s arms as he ran by causing the corner to lose his balance. Coach Detiveaux threw the ball to him for an easy catch.

“That would’ve been pass interference, Jenkins,” the young coach said as Caesar jogged back to the line.

“Not in a grown man’s game, coach,” he answered as he tossed the ball back to him.

The two of them shifted into the line elsewhere. As the drill wore on, it became obvious that Caesar was far better than the defensive backs and that Devin was far better than the other wide receivers who weren’t Caesar.

For the most part, Devin stuck to doing his job and defending the man across from him. His counterpart on the other side was never known for doing the same.

With Skylar finally being forced to line up across from him after a concerted effort by him to avoid Caesar at all costs, and succeeding for three rounds through the line, Skylar decided to try to press Caesar at the line.

The strong receiver easily got away from the feeble attempt and covered his eyes with one hand while trying to catch the ball with the other. He missed it, but the smile on his face – as he continued to chew on his mouthpiece – showed he wasn’t taking the drill too seriously.

“That was some real Antonio Brown shit, Caesar,” Coach Perkins said, the first time the coach has spoken since the drill had begun.

Caesar laughed and shook his head. He took the mouthpiece out of his mouth for a moment to speak. “I should sue for that. I always ask before fucking.”

“Run it again. And stop fucking playing around,” Perkins said.

Caesar threw his hands up and got back at the front of the line. Skylar did the same, but Devin grabbed the back of his jersey and pulled him back to instead take his place.

A smirk played at Coach Detiveaux’s lips as Devin lined up across from Caesar. He looked at the receiver. “I’m only giving you four seconds to get free before I’m throwing it.”

“Don’t need four.” Caesar shrugged.

“Alright. We’ll see. Hut!”

Devin gave Caesar some cushion as he came off the line. He took two steps back and jumped the route as Caesar cut inside. Devin was able to get his hand on it just before it reached Caesar’s hands. The defensive backs shared a congratulatory “whoop” after seeing a rep end without the ball in Caesar’s hands.

Caesar waved his hand in a circle. “Run it back. You threw that too early.”

“Or you didn’t get open,” the coach countered.

“Run it back,” Caesar repeated.

This time, Caesar simply put his head down and blew by Devin with the slightest of shoves as Devin tried to flip his hips and give chase.

And this time, it was Devin demanding they do the drill again. “One more time, coach.”

Detiveaux shrugged. “Get back on the line, then.”

Taking a page from Caesar’s book, Devin grabbed a hold of Caesar’s shirt as the two of them came together. He let go and pushed him in the side when Caesar cut to the outside causing him to stumble. Devin picked the pass off fairly easily.

Caesar caught his balance and spit the mouthpiece out of his mouth as his hands went up in the air. “There’s no way that you didn’t seem him fucking push off!”

“I didn’t see anything,” Coach Detiveaux said.

“Alright, then. I see how it is. Run it back.”

“We got other guys who need reps,” Coach Perkins said.

Detiveaux shrugged and waved them back to the line. “Last one.”

Devin decided to try jamming Caesar again. He thrust his hands into Caesar’s armpits and tried to avoid getting pushed around. Caesar tried to swim around him, but Devin did a good job staying in front of him.

But Devin forgot about Caesar’s trademark for getting free – slaps to the head.

White clouded Devin’s vision as he stumbled away, feeling the full force of the blow without his helmet on. He heard the sound of leather hitting skin and knew Caesar had caught the ball.

Caesar ran by and threw the ball at Devin’s feet just as the stars were clearing. “Next time, man the fuck up and keep playing, bitch.”

“You need a break, King?” Perkins asked.

Devin shook his head, rubbing at the throbbing on the side of his head as he walked back to the line.

-*****-
Devin’s grandfather gradually descended down the steps of the bleachers, holding the side of his knee as he went. A part of Devin felt the need to help him, but he knew the man was too proud to accept help from anyone and especially in front of the number of people who were milling in and out of the stadium following practice.

He wouldn’t want anyone to see the “great” Devin King, Jr. needing help just to get around.

Devin waited at the bottom of the steps for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time before his grandfather finally got down to him.

“You’re coming to practices now?” he asked when the man slumped down onto a step next to him to catch his breath and rest his legs.

“I told you that I was going to help you navigate this recruiting shit and how am I going to do that if I’m not sitting next to scouts getting in their ears?” The elder man stretched out his legs, grimacing as the tendons pulled and stretched. One wouldn’t be wrong to assume that he’d played a dozen years in the NFL, not a couple dozen games over four years. “You should’ve punched that Jenkins kid in his mouth. Show the scouts some fire and passion.”

“I don’t know much about this whole recruiting thing, but I doubt that they’d like me punching a teammate. Seems like something that’d actively try to avoid happening.”

“Yeah, if that was the case then they’d be putting negs on Jenkins’s scouting report for all those obvious cheap shots he gives you. In fucking practice. They knew that puts asses in the seats so they want that at their school. Keep that in mind next time the little shit hits you in practice.”

Devin gave his grandfather a sarcastic thumbs up. “Got it.”

“I’ve set up some unofficial visits for you in the next few weeks. Let your coach know you’ll be gone for a couple days for ‘em.”

“Unofficial visits to where?”

The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of business cards. He’d never get on the train of logging all that into his phone. He looked on the back of a few of them and removed them from the pile.

“Mississippi State, Arkansas State, SMU and Florida International,” he said, handing the cards to Devin as he marked them off.

“Not exactly the most glamorous schools, huh?”

“What’d you expect? LSU, Alabama, USC and Ohio State?” Devin, Jr. laughed. “You’re basically coming out of nowhere on the recruiting trail. We’re hitting one SEC school so it’s not that big of a deal to be starting small. We’ll go to Arkansas first and then Florida.”

“If I’m being honest, I’d rather not go to Arkansas or Mississippi. There are probably more football players at those schools than the state has collective teeth.”

“You realize we live in Louisiana, right? It’s not exactly much higher than those two states.”

Devin shrugged. “I’m just saying. Not somewhere I want to spend four years.”

“Four years? Four years? Shut up and just listen to me, boy. We’re going to go to these schools and when the other schools catch wind of you visiting then they’ll come in. But I’m going to need you to act like a football player when we’re out there. Not...” He waved his hand in a circle. “Whatever it is you act like when you’re here. At least make them think they know what they are getting with you.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll let coach know what’s going on.”

“Don’t ‘let him know,’ dumbass. Tell him that you’re going on visits and if he doesn’t like it that E.D. White probably needs a cornerback since they ain’t get none from Vandebilt.”

“Yeah, got it.”

The old man started the arduous task of getting to his feet. Devin decided to help him this time, but he batted his grandson’s hands away from him with a few grumbles. With the aid of the wall and the railing, he succeeded.

“Tell your shithead father that your grandmother would like to have a family dinner this Sunday and she’s not taking no for an answer.”

Devin nodded. “I’ll let him know.”

“And bring that girl you date. Your grandmother likes her. Thinks she’s good for you or some shit.”

Devin nodded again. “I’ll ask her.”

Devin King, Jr. grumbled under his breath as he watched some of the other players get picked up by their parents. He turned to his grandson. “You’re getting looks now. Don’t fuck it up.”

And with that the old man hobbled across the street to his old car. Despite his former professional football player status, no one spared him a glance as he went.
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 23 Sep 2019, 20:06

Subtle jab at AB :drose:

Everyone out here treating Devin like that. Goddamn.
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Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 27 Sep 2019, 17:05

A Bit of a Bond

“Slow this shit the fuck down,” Hasan snapped as he held onto boxes in the back of a van being driven by Ralph. “You know it ain’t got no fuckin’ seatbelts back here.

Devin had wedged himself between the side of the van and boxes that had been lined up to the opposite side to avoid sliding around, but after a dozen minutes in that position his limbs were starting to scream in pain.

“We’re almost there. Stop bitching.” Their manager reached for an energy drink in the cupholder with one hand while he swerved into the parking lot of another store with the other.

Devin looked over at Hasan who shook his head as the van barely avoided customers before swinging to the back of the store. An employee stood in the middle of the loading area and waved toward where they were to park. With a special degree of recklessness, Ralph swung the van around and backed into the spot.

Ralph was the first one out, banging on the side of the van as Devin and Hasan got out as well. “See? Got y’all here in one piece. Unload that shit where they tell you to and hurry the fuck up. Then come find me in the front.”

Before Devin or Hasan could ask if Ralph was going to help them, he disappeared into the warehouse.

The guy who waved them in walked around the van and scanned the boxes. He cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. “Is this all of it? This don’t look like all of it.”

“You gotta ask the boss about that,” Hasan said. He pulled a box from the truck and turned to the other man. “You gonna show us where it go?”

“Yeah, just go in there and turn to the right. Britton’ll help y’all out.”

Devin and Hasan exchanged a look before shrugging. Grabbing a box as well, Devin followed Hasan into the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse, Britton stood on top of a pallet of bags of ice and cut at the plastic that was wrapped around the top of it. It looked like something that would drive OSHA insane, but both Devin and Hasan knew that was typical of their employer. He looked up at the two of them and pointed behind him.

“Fontenot wants that over there,” he said.

“Didn’t realize you worked here,” Hasan said as he passed.

Britton stopped hacking at the plastic and looked at his fellow runningback. “Didn’t realize I worked here or didn’t realize that I worked at all?”

“Don’t get mad at me because ya people rich.”

“Fontenot will start bitching if y’all take too long and keep the bay open. Might want to start emptying the truck,” Britton said, ignoring Hasan’s quip.

Devin shoved Hasan with the box he was holding. “C’mon, man. We ain’t got all day.”

“We ain’t got all day,” Hasan mocked before heading to a random empty spot in the warehouse and dropping the box down.

...

Unloading the van went faster than expected thanks to Ralph seemingly shorting the requested transfer from their store, a sentiment that Britton mentioned as well. Fortunately for Devin and Hasan, Britton did lend them a hand despite him being only one of three stockers at the store.

Hasan headed to the front of the store to track down Ralph while Devin hung in the back.

Britton walked over to a freezer and propped it open. Donning a pair of gloves, he started tossing the bags of ice into the freezer where four empty pallets waited for it.

“You need a hand, man?” Devin asked.

Britton shrugged. “It’s up to you. Don’t have any more gloves though unless you’re going steal them from dairy.”

Not wanting to withdraw his offer for help for lack of gloves, he opted for grabbing the bags of ice by the bit above the wrap where it wouldn’t be as cold to hand them to Britton and shorten his walk from the freezer to the pallet.

After a few minutes of silence, Britton spoke again. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Nah. It’s just that you’re on the ‘other side.’ Y’all haven’t exactly been friendly to the rest of us on the team.”

“I guess you’re right about that.” Britton nodded slowly as he took a moment to make better stacks of ice so it didn’t tip over. “Hasan ask you why you work when you started working or is that only one of those white guy questions? Your family’s pretty well off, no?”

“I guess you could say that. It’s not like they are handing out thousands of dollars for me to throw wild parties or anything like that.”

“Look at that. Something we have in common.”

“What?”

Britton laughed. “Why is it a stereotype that everyone who goes – I guess went now – to Vandebilt is rich as fuck? There are literally people who live in the most ghetto of ghettos who went there. Yeah, they played sports, but they still went.”

“Right. Recruiting.”

“Yep, but thanks to your boys, I won’t be seeing too much of that this season.”

“You’re still on the team, though.”

“But I’m a fucking fullback. I went from having four or five good offers to having four or five ‘well, it’s better than nothing’ offers just from that getting out.”

Devin let that statement simmer for a moment. Not having been in the recruiting circus for a long time, he didn’t realize it was so ruthless. Britton was a three-year starter at runningback on a state championship winning team. One year at fullback shouldn’t shoot him in the foot so much. Or so Devin felt.

“So, what are you going to do?” Devin asked.

“Think I’m going to head to Southeast Missouri. The coach up there promised that he’d put me back at runningback so that’s a pretty good promise. Even thinking about enrolling early to get some time on campus.”

“At least, it’s somewhere.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Britton said, laughing.

Ralph burst into the warehouse with Hasan walking behind him, shaking his head at the unnecessarily forceful entrance from the manager.

“What the fuck you doing, Devin? We don’t pay you to help other stores. Come the fuck on so we can get back across town,” he said, not even bothering to break his stride as he left the building.

Devin shook his head and handed one last bag to Britton.

“Thanks for the hand,” Britton said as he moved around him to start taking bags from the back of the pile to even it out.

-*****-



Caesar dodged around a bevy of workers moving furniture in and out of their house. As his mother was prone to do, on a flight of fancy, she’d decided to get rid of all the furniture in the house and replace it with all new furniture. It didn’t matter if it had been a year or a month since the last time, she’d done it, she’d still do it.

Despite having seen his mother’s random outbursts of spending throughout his life, Caesar still couldn’t put his finger on the reasoning behind it. He didn’t think he would ever be able to. Maybe, she just liked putting a little dent in his dad’s bank account every once in a while.

Deciding to get away from the hustle and bustle of the swap, Caesar started walking down the street. As he walked among the trees and the city’s most expensive homes, he realized that he didn’t really know any of his neighbors. It was as if the Jenkins family lived there, but they lived in a different zipcode to the less wealthy folks down the street.

Granted, it was entirely likely that he’d fucked one or two daughters in Sugar Mill Point. It was inevitable that they’d sent their kids to Vandebilt with him. And he got around.

Turning the corner at the end of the street, he saw another set of moving trucks. This time, however, it was a family moving in and not just a woman spending some money.

Outside, three kids played in the yard, probably siblings. A very pregnant woman kept a watchful over them. Every so often, she’d look over her shoulder and smile at one of the men lugging things in and out of the house.

It was very idyllic and altogether foreign to Caesar.

A beat-up older model car pulled up to the house. A pizza place’s placard sat atop it and rap music blared from inside. A blonde white girl hopped out it and snatched a warmer bag from the backseat. Even from where he was standing, Caesar could see a child’s car seat in the back.

He kept walking toward the house with the idyllic family and the “woke” white chick delivering pizza. Then, he paused when he saw the Terrebonne student hanger on the rearview. A smile crept up on his face. Someone told him that a certain runningback’s child’s mother worked for a pizza business and was blonde.

It was too much of a coincidence.

He took a couple steps back to the stop sign and sat down on the curb. After a few minutes, the girl got back into her car and pulled off toward the stop sign. Caesar stood up and flagged her down. The car crept to a stop before the passenger side window rolled down.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Caesar almost cringed at her accent. One that screamed trying too hard to fit into someone else’s culture.

He crouched down so he was level with the car door. He only looked at her for a moment before nodding. “I just wanted to see if you were as pretty up close as you were from far away. You are, if you were wondering. You have a nice one.”

He stood up and started walking down the street again.

“Hey, wait! Come back!”

Caesar smiled to himself and turned around. She’d put the car in park and had gotten out to meet him.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she asked.

“School, probably. Name’s Caesar.”

She nodded as if connecting the dots. “You’re the football guy! Well, not the guy, but the one everyone talks about.”

“I would argue that makes me the football guy.” Caesar stretched a bit as he laughed. She took the briefest of glances down as his shirt rode up. “I didn’t mean to take too much of your time. I just wanted to compliment you. If it isn’t too much of me to ask, what are you doing when you get off?”

She looked over her shoulder before shifting slightly to the left so that she was standing where a person of normal height wouldn’t be able to see the car seat. “Oh, you know, just hanging out and stuff. Gotta help my mom cook dinner and all.”

And Caesar knew the exact button to press. “I don’t care that you have a kid.”

“Sorry, it’s just still new to me,” she said, her shoulders raising a bit.

“I bet.” Caesar held out his hand to her. “Here, give me your phone and I’ll put my number in. If you find yourself bored later, shoot me a text and I’ll send you my address to come hang out.”

She all but ran to the car and grabbed her phone out of the center console before bringing it back to him. “Where you stay?”

He took the phone from her and navigated to her contacts. “**Bart – Baby Zaddy**” was at the top of the list. As he put his number in, he pointed over his shoulder in the general direction of his house. “Down the street.”

“You stay in Sugar Mill?” she asked, her eyes slightly wider.

“Yep. Right here in Sugar Mill.” He gave her back her phone. “Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you later.”

“Ye- yeah. Maybe. Hopefully,” she said.

He threw her one last smile before turning to walk away. Looking up to see he was walking in the direction of the new family in the neighborhood, his lip curled up a bit in disgust before he crossed the street and passed on the opposite side.
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 28 Sep 2019, 12:00

"Baby Zaddy". I'll let that one marinate for a little bit.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 30 Sep 2019, 18:46

Captain Canada wrote:
28 Sep 2019, 12:00
"Baby Zaddy". I'll let that one marinate for a little bit.
Image (but white)
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