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 » 08 Aug 2019, 19:08

I see you, dawg. :curtain:

Devin's in for it now.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 12 Aug 2019, 19:28

New Digs

An engineer walked up to the podium at the meeting of the parish’s school board, being held jointly with the diocese’s superintendent of schools. Behind him, there were so many angry parents in the room that many of them were forced to stand. He could feel their eyes on his back, and he was sure to make them angrier.

“Thank you, Mr. Trosclair. I know this has been a long process and we’re only a couple weeks away from school starting up again, but we had to do a full inspection on the building before we began any work,” the man said. He adjusted his collar before continuing. “Vandebilt is an old school and the roof issues exposed a lot of structural problems. We’re talking millions and millions of dollars of work that would need to be done other than just putting a new roof on it.”

The diocese’s superintendent, Mary Guidry, leaned forward toward the microphone in front of her. “The question is: how long will this work take? Can it be done in a couple weeks so that classes can resume in the building?”

“The short answer is no.”

A ripple of murmurs swept across the crowd and a few parents stormed out of the room with their phones in their hands.

“What’s the longer answer?” Guidry asked.

“I’d have to check with my guys again, but a quick estimate would put the completion of the repairs, barring any more issues we uncover or trouble from weather, somewhere in the 20-36 month range. A lot of the parts will have to be retrofitted or replaced altogether. You have to remember this is a school that hasn’t had any work done to it in decades.”

“Where’s my kid going to go to school then?!” a parent shouted.

“I spend a lot of money to send my daughter to that school! What’s your plan?!” another shouted.

Mitch Trosclair, the parish’s public-school superintendent, demanded quiet before speaking. “We stand ready to help our friends at the diocese in whatever way that we can, but so far it seems like the plan is for Central Catholic and E.D. White to take on the students with a plan—”

“That’s not entirely true anymore, Mr. Trosclair,” Mary Guidry said.

“What?”

She sighed. “Central Catholic and E.D. White don’t have the infrastructure to take on some 600 or 700 students a piece. Only the students who live close to Thibodaux or Morgan City are going to be bussed there.”

“And what about Houma Christian? Surely, they’ve agreed to lend a hand?” one of the board members asked.

“No, Houma Christian is much too small.” The woman shook her head, the burden of navigating this conundrum beginning to weigh on her. “The rest of the students will have to go to the parish’s public schools unless their parents make arrangements to send them to another diocese’s schools.”

The room erupted in a chorus of cursing and yelling.

“You’re out your mind if you think my kid is going to Ellender!”

“What kind of classes do they even have at South Terrebonne?! Shrimping?!”

“I guess I better get my kids their inmate numbers like the rest of the ‘students’ at Terrebonne!”

Devin King, III, the public school district’s chief administrative officer, stood up. “Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. We can assure you that the parish’s four public high schools and the lower schools are all great institutions of learning.”

“Fuck you! You wouldn’t send your kids to any of them!”

“Actually, my son goes to Terrebonne,” he said over the din of voices.

“Probably a dumbass criminal then!”

As the officials tried to get a hold on the meeting and bring order back to the room, a man slipped out of the back and pulled his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear.

“I assume you heard all of that, sir?” He paused as he listened. “So, what do you want to do about where your son is going?”

-*****-

“Despite the efforts of President Donald Trump, or arguably due to his efforts, the Korean War has come close to flaring back up numerous times over the last few decades as North Korea has continued to expand its arsenal of nuclear weapons.”

Scarlett took notes as her history teacher continued through the aftermath of Donald J. Trump’s presidency. She still couldn’t believe that the United States had actually elected someone who’s claim to fame was that they were a poor businessperson and they had a TV show.

She certainly hadn’t expected to launch right into coursework on the first day back from the winter break. And even more so not halfway through the first class of the first day back from the winter break.

Extra desks had been packed into the room as now-former Vandebilt students would be calling Terrebonne home for the foreseeable future. A few new faces dotted the class, but for the most part they’d all sat near each other and avoided conversation with the other students in the room.

Scarlett had always thought they were snobbish, but their behavior was a bit much even for what she’d assumed.

“Following the election of 2024 when Republican nominee Ivanka Trump los--” The teacher trailed off as she was interrupted by a student walking into the classroom. She looked over at him and shook her head. “I know you are new, but here, we knock before entering.”

He looked at, or down at, her and shrugged before handing her one of the slips that the guidance counselors had given to all the new students. She signed it and handed it back before grabbing the inside of his blue letterman’s jacket.

“You can’t wear that.”

“Where what? My jacket? It’s cold.”

“No, the hoodie. It’s against district policy.”

“It’s cold.”

“You can’t wear it.”

“It. Is. Cold. Do you understand English? I don’t have a gun or drugs under it.”

“Are you going to cause trouble in my classroom, Mr. Jenkins? Because if so, we can start your time here with a writeup.”

Caesar shrugged. “I don’t know what that is, but if that’s what you want to do then don’t let me stop you. I’ll be keeping my hoodie on, though, because it’s cold. Thanks.” He walked to the back of the class and sat at the end of a row of empty desks.

Sighing, the teacher turned back to her desk and resumed her lecture.

Scarlett looked over at Caesar out of the corner of her eye. He pulled the hood over his head, then put his head down on the desk and closed his eyes. She shook her head at this. Of course, he’d be the stereotypical dumb jock.

-*****-

“Yo, I don’t typically fuck on no bougie bitches, but some of these hoes bad as fuck,” Bart said as a few former Vandebilt students of the fairer sex passed by. He, Devin, and Hasan sat on a bench near the school’s fieldhouse, pushed from their usual spots in the circle by the sudden influx of students.

“Don’t you already got a kid?” Hasan asked.

“Two of ‘em, but they ain’t wanna go to the clinic so that’s on them. Jamie my queen and all, but what she don’t know won’t hurt her.”

“You think that a bunch of Catholic girls are going to go get abortions if you knock them up? You’d be better off trying to pray the baby away,” Devin said.

“They probably think we all look the same anyway. I’ll just put on one of you two niggas.” Bart laughed, but stopped when noticed that neither of them joined in with him. He coughed before changing the subject. “Y’all see all them boys walking around with they championship rings on? That shit disrespectful.”

“That’s a hell of a take. They won them like two months ago. What you expect them to do? Throw them away because their school fell apart?” Hasan asked. “I’d be wearing mine if I’d gotten one back in Miami, too.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, and they won that shit by beating us on the way.”

“Even if they lost to us, they still would’ve gotten into the playoffs and won those rings,” Devin said. “You’re reaching, man.”

“Y’all buggin’. When spring comes around, y’all going to stand by and let a bunch of white boys take y’all spots on the team because they won the 3A ‘chip? We’re 5A. A lot more talent up here than in the smaller divisions,” Bart said. He pointed across the circle to where Ron DeRossi was talking with two girls. “I mean, look at that dude. You think he’s going to get a spot over Trigga, for real?”

Hasan laughed. “Yes. He’s an all-state quarterback who is a four-star recruit with at least 10 Power 5 offers that people know of.”

“No loyalty.” Bart shook his head.

“Apparently only like a dozen of them didn’t end up here. Like 4 starters from last year. All of us might be JV if they go out for the team in the spring,” Devin said.

“Ain’t no white boy starting over me in the backfield.”

“You know I’m going out for running back, too, right?” Hasan asked Bart.

“Your ass either, nigga,” Bart shot back.

Devin let the two of them spar over who would start at running back when the dust settled through tryouts. He wouldn’t have to worry about Vandebilt competition at defensive back. He’d heard one of their corners was graduating and the other one was in jail.

Nonetheless, it’d be an interesting spring.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 12 Aug 2019, 21:29

Can't wait for that first Devin/Caesar interaction.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 15 Aug 2019, 19:28

Pugilists

“What the fuck?!”

Devin slammed on the brakes as an expensive sports car swerved around him in Terrebonne’s crowded student parking lot. The car swung into one of the few spots that were left – one that he’d set his eyes on.

He looked over at Scarlett in the passenger seat. Her hands gripped the seat belt, and her nerves must have been as rattled as his.

In the last few weeks since the semester had started, the lines between the Terrebonne student body and those who used to call Vandebilt home had only become more defined despite Terrebonne’s administration’s best efforts to draw the two groups together. It was an order from the superintendent and Devin’s dad for the public schools to make them “feel at home.”

Of course, the repairs to the school had already been delayed by bad weather.

“You’d think that driving those kinds of cars would come with extra driving courses,” Scarlett said when she’d regained her composure.

“Because their parents wouldn’t just pay for that to be rubber stamped, too,” Devin said, as he sped into a spot before that one could be taken as well. Unfortunately, it was close to the little sports car that had almost ran into him.

He heard a splatting noise on his back windshield and turned around to see an iced latte sliding down it.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going next time!” a voice shouted from outside.

Devin snatched the keys out of the ignition, jumping out of the car.

“Devin, just leave it,” Scarlett called behind him.

His car wasn’t much, but he’d mowed a lot of lawns and done a lot of odd jobs through the neighborhood to buy it. And the last thing he was going to do was let some rich punk throw coffee on it and not say anything about it.

He smacked the cup off his window and turned around looking for the culprit. He came face-to-face with them quicker than he’d expected. Or face-to-chest.

“I threw it,” Caesar said, shoving him. “You want to do something about it?”

Devin looked around and noticed the group of students being drawn to the commotion. He glanced at Scarlett who’d gotten out of the car.

“Devin, let’s just go,” she said.

“Yeah. Devin, listen to your bitch. Before you get knocked the fuck out,” Caesar said.

Ron tried to shove his way between them, but Caesar pushed him back. “C’mon now, Caesar. You threw that shit at his car. He’s mad. Let it go. And we’re already going to have to listen to Emma’s whining because you threw her basic bitch pick-me-up.”

Deciding he’d already had enough of Caesar Jenkins, Devin shoved him back. High school students had been to this rodeo enough times to know what was about to happen and a bigger group of them piled around.

Caesar stepped back and dropped his bag on the ground. He took off his championship ring and handed it to Ron.

“You really want to do this?” he asked, shedding his letterman’s jacket. “You really want to get embarrassed today?”

“Let’s go, Devin,” Scarlett said.

Devin shook his head and put his fists up. The last fight he’d been in was in grade school and he was the bigger kid. Maybe, he’d get lucky and Caesar would trip into his hands.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on over here?!” the school’s chubby student resource officer shoved through the crowd, pepper spray at the ready. He looked at Caesar and Devin. “I know you two knuckleheads not about to cause trouble this early. Y’all better get your asses to class before I start handing out trips to East Street.”

Caesar chuckled as he bent down to grab his jacket. “You got a guardian angel, King.” He picked up the rest of his stuff and walked away.

Devin waited until the crowd dispersed before relaxing.

Scarlett slapped him on the shoulder.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you were actually going to fight him. That’s so stupid.”

“He would’ve deserved it.”

“Still stupid.”

And then Devin was left alone as Scarlett stormed off toward the school.

-*****-

Caesar held a limp, cold French fry between two fingers in front of his face. Sighing, he flung it aside then threw the tray on the ground as well. “The fucking food here is so shit. Inmates eat better than this.”

“You would know about that.” Britton laughed with Ron joining in, poking fun at his day’s stint in the parish’s jail. “Did anyone ask you for your cornbread?”

“Ha-yuk, ha-yuk, ha-yuk. You’re so funny, bro.”

Ron patted him on the shoulder. “Look on the bright side. At least the food here will just make you throw up. You eat anything else here and you’ll have bigger things to worry about.”

“Bigger issues with a small member.” Britton laughed again.

“Isn’t your girlfriend around here somewhere expecting you?” Caesar asked him. “Or did she decide to leave you because she has to look at you too often now?”

“That’s cold blooded, man. I didn’t say shit when you started talking about you were dating Emma. I could’ve pointed out that she must have some good snatch for you to put a leash on it.”

“I’m trying something new.” Caesar shrugged.

“Trying something you haven’t done since Gina had you wrapped around her finger two years ago? You’re talking like you’ve never been tied to one woman before,” Ron said.

“Gina who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

Caesar shook his head. “I don’t anyone by the name of Gina. You must have me confused with someone else, bro.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Caesar tuned the conversation out as Ron and Britton began talking about whatever party they were all going to go to that weekend. Being at Terrebonne was seemingly beginning to suck the life out of him. The way all the students were herded to and fro under the watchful eye of the school’s SRO.

He’d seen more fights than he thought possible in a place that didn’t have barbed wire fences, and more pregnant teens than a Planned Parenthood. They called their fieldhouse the Jungle, but truth was, the entire school was a damn jungle.

Football tryouts would be coming up before they knew it, and all the ex-Vandebilt players there had committed to playing for Terrebonne after Coach Thomas had told them that he’d be joining the Tigers’ coaching staff. Maybe getting back on the field would be what was needed to shake Caesar out of his funk.

“Are you ignoring me?” a female voice said from his right. He looked down to find an angry Emma looking back up at him.

“No, I heard you,” he lied. He was already beginning to regret agreeing to “dating” her just so she’d let him fuck her again.

“If you heard me, what’d I say?”

Caesar looked at Ron and Britton for help, but they’d turned away from the couple and were pretending to look at something across the school grounds.

“Alright, so I wasn’t paying attention. What the fuck do you want?”

“I said Hollie and I are sneaking off campus to go get something to eat and since you threw my breakfast at some kid’s car, you owe me.”

“Since when is coffee a complete breakfast?”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “I was implying that you should repay me for the money of mine you wasted, not asking you to critique my choices.”

With a deep breath to stop himself from saying something, Caesar reached into his pocket for his wallet but stopped short of giving her money.

“C’mon, Caesar. Stop playing around. We only have like 20 minutes.”

Caesar shoved his wallet back in his pocket and started walking toward the band hall which connected to the neighboring junior high through the stadium – the avenue for students sneaking off campus. “Fuck it. I’m coming with you. I’ll buy your food.”

“You’re going to get us caught! You don’t look like a junior high kid!” Emma shouted following behind him.

“Yo, where are y’all going?” Ron called. He noticed where they were going then grabbed Britton by his jacket and followed them as well.

-*****-

“So, let me get this straight. You didn’t even fight that motherfucker and ya girl still mad about it?” Hasan asked Devin as the two of them walked into the back of a local grocery store. Hasan had convinced Devin to apply for an after-school job with him, much to Devin’s parents' chagrin.

“I don’t know. I guess she expected me to take the high road or something. Be the bigger man and just walk away. I usually would’ve.” Devin shrugged.

He reached into his pocket for a box cutter to slash saran wrap off stacks of new stock fresh off a truck. Nearby, a couple of their coworkers did the same.

“The question is then, if she’s going to be mad at you because you didn’t fight him.” Hasan paused before lifting up a sack of bags of rice and tossing it into a grocery basket. “And she would’ve been mad at you if you did fight him. Why didn’t you just punch him in his shit when you had the chance?”

Devin shrugged again, hefting two cases of Vienna sausage onto a cart. “I’ve never been in a real fight before outside of little scraps when I was like 6. Isn’t it hard to fight motherfuckers that are taller than you?”

“Man, just tackle that big ass nigga.”

“Language, Santiago!” the manager shouted.

“My fault, Ralph,” he said. “I don’t know how y’all do out here in this country ass town, but I’d have just beat his ass right there. You catch a couple days at home for it but bet he won’t fuck with you no more.”

“And if he kicked my ass?”

“You don’t have to be negative about it. Like I said, just tackle him then his long ass arms won’t matter. You know how to tackle motherfuckers, right?”

“I think you are underestimating this. Or overestimating my ability to fight.”

Devin straightened out the stack of cases that he’d made on the cart before returning to the pallet, but Ralph, the manager stopped him.

He nodded to a pallet jack near the door. “Roll that water on that jack up to the aisle. They’re going to have some buggy boy put it up. Bring the jack back.”

Devin sighed and trudged over to the pallet jack. Looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no customers behind him, he grabbed the handle and rolled the pallet jack out of the doors and up to the front of the store where the water aisle was.

On the aisle, a cashier was pointing out what brands needed to be refilled to a bag boy. The girl looked at him as he dropped the pallet in the middle of the aisle. To say she looked angry would’ve been an understatement.

“You’re helping him, right?” she asked Devin.

“No…” Devin paused, leaning forward to look at her name tag. “Gina, I’m not helping him. I guess you are since you’re here.” He looked at the bag boy and yanked the jack from under the wooden pallet. “All yours, man.”

On the way back to the warehouse, Devin passed Hasan pulling a cart out to an aisle for the items to be stocked.

“Any of the pretty cashiers here tonight?” Hasan asked.

“Considering we got hired together, can you at least make an effort to not get us fired at the same time by trying to fuck all the cashiers?”

Hasan laughed as he turned down an aisle. “I ain’t promising that.”
Last edited by Caesar on 02 Sep 2019, 04:35, edited 1 time in total.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 15 Aug 2019, 21:22

A lil more interconnecting happening. I'm all about it.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 19 Aug 2019, 20:05

Thanks for the Advice

Devin stepped out of his car, stretching after a long day’s work. He’d been lucky enough to get a Sunday morning shift so he’d also be lucky enough to get a few hours to himself at the house while his parents were at church.

He hadn’t gotten more than a few feet closer to the front door when his grandfather pulled into the driveway next to him. The car the man drove was as old as him, but he held on to it because the luxury vehicle was one of the last vestiges of his brief stint in the NFL.

The eldest Devin King struggled to get out of the car and had somewhat of a limp as he walked toward his grandson.

“Hurt your leg again?” Devin asked, gesturing to his leg.

“I keep telling every damn body that it’s the cold weather that got my knee acting up. But y’all can’t give an old man any damn peace without trying to tell him to go to the doctor or some other shit like that.”

“Just asked a question. I take back my concern.”

Devin King, Jr. Leaned against the garage, seemingly exhausted from the short walk. “Where’s your old man? I’ve been calling him all weekend asking about you and he said you’re working now.”

“He’s at church or something I’m guessing, and I do work now. Up at the Rouse’s.” Devin pointed to the emblem on his shirt for emphasis. “Figured I’d find a way to fill my time when I’m not in school or something, you know?”

“You’re an athlete and young, dumbass. When you’re not at school, you should be training or chasing skirts. Now you’re sweating over minimum wage instead. Back in my day, though, it used to get wild in those stores.”

“I’ve heard. So, what are you looking for me for?”

His grandfather waved his hand toward the house. “We’re not going to have a conversation outside like we ain’t got home training. Let’s go inside before I die of hypothermia or whatever it is that’s doing old men in these days.”

Devin led the way, unlocking the door for them. There was a note on the table in the foyer letting him know that his parents would be late as they had a church function after service. He was already debating whether to go to Scarlett’s or invite her over.

Sitting in the living room, Devin kicked his shoes off and lounged back in a recliner while his grandpa sat across from him.

“Alright then. What is it? I imagine it isn’t all that serious if you didn’t just tell dad first instead of hounding him about where I was.”

“Shut up, boy, and let me talk. It is serious. This probably the most serious conversation you’ve ever had so listen up. You started getting mail from schools and didn’t think you should tell me about it? I been through this before, remember?”

Devin shrugged. “Yeah, like 50 years ago, and I’m not getting mail from any big schools. I’m getting shit from like Nicholls and Grand Valley State or junior colleges. I didn’t tell you because it really doesn’t matter.”

“That’s why I drove all the way over here to talk to your dumbass. You’re not seeing the big picture.”

“What big picture?”

“Those are the only schools looking at you now because Terrebonne has sucked for years. You at a shit program, son. But it’s a good sign because they’re looking at you and y’all just got the golden ticket.”

“I think you might be going senile, grandpa. We don’t have any golden tickets.”

The old man shook his head. “For all that sense your dad supposedly got to go be a teacher, he sure ain’t pass it down to you. We were talking at the barbershop and they pointed it out. Vandebilt gone. They had 70-something kids on that team that just won state. Terrebonne got ‘bout 40-45 of them. All them scouts who were going to go up the street to watch them play, gonna be going to Terrebonne to watch y’all play now.”

“Not only do I not see how that helps me, but I don’t think that’s going to work like that. It’s still Terrebonne they’re coming to watch.”

“You’re failing in school, aren’t you?”

“What?” Devin raised an eyebrow.

“There ain’t no way you’re passing when you’re this dense. What you think? Caesar Jenkins not going to play for y’all? That quarterback they had not going to play? The scouts gotta watch them and make sure they don’t tear an ACL or something. That’s when you get your chance to shine in front of the big boy programs.”

Devin shrugged. “Or just like they ignored the other players at Vandebilt for those guys, they’ll ignore the other players at Terrebonne for those guys.”

Devin King, Jr. stood up as abruptly as his old bones would allow and started walking toward the door. “I should’ve just called your dumbass. It would’ve saved me the gas. You just wait. They gonna have LSU, Texas, Bama, all ‘em, out there. You better be on your P’s and Q’s.”

Devin pulled his phone out of his pocket when he heard the front door slam shut. His thumb first went to text Scarlett, but instead he pulled up a browser and searched for ‘Caesar Jenkins.’ When news first broke of the Vandebilt students transferring, it seemed like there were reporters camped outside Terrebonne to see which football players would be there.

Now, the rumors were that John Curtis, St. Augustine and the other powerhouse New Orleans private schools were going to try to poach Vandebilt’s former players before the season began.

Everytime a social media “journalist” spotted Deion Jenkins in New Orleans, it was built up as the Jenkins’ family patriarch shopping his son to would-be destinations.

It was all stupid to Devin.

Sighing, he cleared the screen and sent a text to Scarlett asking if she wanted to come over before closing his eyes to get some rest.

-*****-

Ron and Caesar sat in a duck blind out in the marshes. Neither of them was a hunter, but they’d set up the blind last summer as a way to get away from everything as cell reception was nearly non-existent out amongst the cypress knees.

The two of them hadn’t told the others about it and effectively fell off the face of the Earth each time they hopped in some old man’s skiff and used sportsman’s paradise to hide from the pressures of life – few that they were.

“Five.”

“That’s definitely four.”

“It’s five.”

Ron picked up a pair of binoculars that had somehow found their way into the blind. Peering through them, he watched a bird in the distance for a moment before putting them down again.

“That’s not a fucking duck. It’s four,” Ron said.

Caesar shrugged as he took a sip from a beer in his hand. He kicked back in his chair and put his feet up on the railing of the structure. “I guarantee one of these Cajuns out here would’ve shot whatever that was and ate it just the same.”

“Because Cajuns are the test for what a motherfucker should and should not eat.” Ron reached into an ice chest and grabbed a bottle of his own. He popped the top off and threw the cap into the marsh. “Saw you fucking with that Houma Christian chick again. What’s her name? Cecilia? Christina?”

“Carla. I never stopped ‘fucking’ with her. Until yesterday anyway.”

“She finally realized you were lying about her being your girlfriend?”

Caesar nodded, bottle to his lips. “Yep.”

“I’ve been thinking about settling down on the whole ‘fucking a different bitch’ everyday shit. It’s kinda getting boring.”

“You’re saying that when you’re visiting all these Power 5 schools who are lining up hostesses for you to run through like babies and STDs don’t exist? Did the pod people grab the real Ron DeRossi out of the boat when we were headed out here or something?”

“I’ll have you know that only TCU, Miami and Arizona State had hostesses offering me sexual favors in return for my commitment to their programs.”

“Who are your top three then?”

“TCU, Miami and Arizona State.” Ron laughed. “I’m fucking serious though.”

“Serious my ass. The only way I’d even think about really quitting the game is if I had three or four of these bitches tell me I knocked them all up at the same time. I have no qualms getting them taken care of, but sweet baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that might shake me to the core.”

“How you know one of them isn’t waiting in the wings for you to get to the league? That’s what I’d do. You’re broke if your dad cuts you off now,” Ron said, taking a swig from his beer.

“Good thing they’re too busy blowing me to ask you for advice on how to entrap me.”

“Emma told me you only need a few minutes for that.”

“Of all people to listen to,” Caesar said, chuckling.

The two of them lapsed into silence for a moment before Ron spoke again.

“Man, this is really going to be my last year in high school. Last year playing high school ball,” he said.

“So? It’s just high school. We got college then the pros. This shit is small time compared to what’s coming up.”

Ron shook his head. “You know my dad’s only been to like one game the entire time I’ve been playing football. It wasn’t even like a big one. It was 8th grade ball against Evergreen or some shit. You know what I’m talking about. How many games your parents been to?”

Caesar shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Two or three maybe? They were at State. What difference does it make? My grandpa didn’t go to my dad’s games either. What do you want them to be in the stands like the other parents screaming and hollering at the referees?”

“It really doesn’t bother you?”

“No, why would it?”

“I don’t know man. I just want to know what that’s like. Same with the settling down with one girl,” he paused. “And not cheating on her ass everyday. Just what that’s like.”

Caesar tossed an empty beer bottle into the marsh. He stood up and walked out of the blind but turned around when he’d stepped into the grass. “You’re going soft. Next, you’ll be talking about white picket and 2.5 children and shit. You’re fucking 17. We’re not even peaking yet and life is fucking good. What the fuck you been smoking to be talking about this shit?”

“I’m just trying to do some soul searching about what I want to do when I get to college, man,” Ron said, standing up as well.

“So, instead of reaping all the benefits of being a college starting quarterback, you want to slow down? That’s some big time pussy shit, Ron.” Caesar started walking to the boat. “I’m going back to civilization. If you want to sit out here and be a little bitch in your feelings and shit, you can swim back through the swamp. Maybe you’ll find your fucking balls out there.”
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 19 Aug 2019, 20:56

Ron finding some sense, and Caesar continues to be a dick.
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Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 26 Aug 2019, 15:24

It All Begins Here

Coach Danny Hill stood next to his former counterpart turned offensive coordinator Coach Neil Thomas on the floor of Terrebonne’s basketball court. He stared up at the mass of would-be players in the bleachers rising above him. Some six months ago, he was the head coach of a team that had barely won two games. Now, he was the head coach of a team that had barely won two games that had 40 some odd guys from a state championship winning team being shoved into it.

He’d hoped by the time spring rolled around that the two sets of students would’ve started blending with one another, but the segregated groups up in the bleachers told him all he needed to know. Only the underclassmen sat near the opposite side.

Coach Thomas looked around at the equally large coaching staff, fourteen men in total as the Vandebilt coaches had all been given jobs at Terrebonne if they wanted them. He leaned toward Coach Hill before speaking. “This would go a lot quicker if you just set the depth chart the way I told you and let your boys try out for what’s left.”

“I’m not giving all your boys starting jobs just because you like them, coach. That’s not how it works,” Coach Hill said.

“It’s not because I like them, son,” Coach Thomas said to the younger man. “It’s because they’re all better. Don’t make no sense to go through a whole summer pretending you’re going to start someone at quarterback other than Ron DeRossi and the list goes on.”

“Tryouts decide the better man. Last I checked, Vandebilt were 3A. This here’s 5A.”

“This here’s Louisiana, not Texas, and we kicked your ass last year.”

“Gentlemen, you want to begin so we aren’t here all night?” Coach Detiveaux asked.

Coach Hill cleared his throat and walked toward the bleachers, calling for quiet. The players who’d turned out for Terrebonne, along with the younger guys who were making the jump from the junior high, listened. The former Vandebilt players kept talking.

“Shut the hell up!” Coach Thomas shouted. The din of talking then slowly died to a murmur before stopping.

“Thanks, coach,” Hill mumbled. He turned back to the players. “Alright, for those of you who’ve been here before for this, you know this is a little different. We’d typically have everyone dressed out and on the field, but this isn’t a typical situation. I won’t cut a man who comes out to play for me, but that means we’re going to have a lot of evaluating to do this year.”

Caesar raised his hand and stood up. “I got a question.”

“Sit your ass down, Jenkins,” Coach Thomas snapped.

“What’s your question?” Hill asked.

“Is your policy of not cutting people the reason y’all only won like three games in the last few years? Because if so, I’d suggest you start cutting motherfuckers. I can help you with the first few names of chumps to get rid of.”

There were a chorus of “fuck yous” from across the gym and laughter from those around Caesar.

“Sit your ass down, Jenkins,” Coach Thomas repeated. This time he did.

Coach Hill shook his head. “No, son, I won’t start cutting ‘motherf’ers’ but I have no problem benching primadonna wide receivers who don’t know how to respect their coach.”

“Guess you like losing,” Caesar said, drawing more laughter.

The head coach ignored his quip and continued addressing his new team. “We’re going to go to work early because we got a lot of it to do. We’re going to have a big varsity and a big JV so be prepared to fight for your spots. Now, we’re going to break into groups. Either go with the position that you played before or the position you want to play now. Quarterbacks over on the other side.”

When nine boys stood up, Coach Hill paled. It wasn’t just going to be a long spring; it was going to be a long year.

-*****-

“One day and you can already see the differences in some of these guys,” Coach Detiveaux said as he handed his notes to Coach Hill. He looked at the rest of the coaching staff. “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I can already tell you who I’d go with for the first game. Devin on the right, Kenyatta on the left, and that Skylar kid at nickel.”

Kevin Perkins, one of the coaches who’d joined the staff from Vandebilt, laughed as he scanned his own notes. “Of course, it’s easy. I had guys coming out for wideout who thought running 5.4’s was going to hack it in high school ball. Then you got Caesar running a 4.3 like he came out the womb running.”

Coach Thomas nodded. “That’s across the board. We got some players who are very good and some players who are very bad. There’s no bell curve here. I really think you need to rethink your policy of not cutting these kids, Danny. At least for this season. Next year, we’ll be out of here and the team won’t be so bloated.”

Coach Hill leaned back in his chair and scanned the piles of reports he’d be given on the various position groups. He took off his hat and scratched at his hairline. “I’m not going to start cutting kids who come out to play for me just because that’s how y’all did things up the road.”

“So, you’d rather they sit on the bench and not get any playing time? I don’t know if you’re trying to give them all participation trophies, but I think they’d rather play.”

“I know you’re new to this public school thing, Neil, but it’s not like cutting them will mean they’ll transfer somewhere else to play. They just won’t be on the team. We have 10 games. No, we won’t be able to get every quarterback in to play, but we can rotate enough that everyone will see the field.”

“I don’t know about the rest of the coaches in here, but I’d like to have a job after this season,” Thomas said. “We’re not going to win many games if you’re taking out the very good players for the very bad players just because you feel bad for them and want mommy and daddy to see them on the field once or twice before they graduate. We need the best out there, every down.”

Coach Hill leaned forward, slapping his hands down on his desk. “I’m the head coach here, coach. We’ll do things my way. If you might want to get that through your head if it’s a job that you want to keep. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

Neil Thomas fiddled with the state championship ring on his finger. “I guess everyone isn’t ready for the tough choices. I’ll see you tomorrow when you’ve had time to calm down and we can work out how to make this a winning program.”

The man stood up and headed for the door. After a few seconds, the other new coaches followed him out, leaving just the held over Terrebonne crop.

Coach Detiveaux pointed over his shoulder. “That’s going to be a problem later this season.”

“I know. I fucking know it is,” Danny Hill said.
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 26 Aug 2019, 16:43

Devin already being broadcasted to start, that's that shit.
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Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 26 Aug 2019, 19:15

Maybe That’s Not a Good Idea

Scarlett glanced at her history midterm and cringed once more. Despite marathon studying the week before, the best she’d been able to do was a C. It was just too difficult to grasp the volatile nature of the Trump presidency. All those years later, it still seemed like amateur hour at a comedy club for eight years.

She’d need a solid showing on the final to keep her GPA looking good. The last thing she wanted to do was hamstring her college applications at the tail end of her sophomore year. She’d decided she needed help, but while her feet were taking her in the direction of someone, she didn’t think would really be able to help her.

Caesar stood with his friends. He had a blonde girl practically attached to his hip as he watched one of the boys he was with animatedly talk. They all laughed as his hands flew this way and that. It looked like he was moving a mile a minute. As she got closer to the group, she could hear he was speaking a mile a minute as well.

“Hey, uh, Caesar,” Scarlett said, stopping in front of him.

“Hey, uh, Scarlett,” he responded. “What the fuck do you want?”

The blonde looked at her, trying her best to hide the annoyance in her eyes. Then she looked up at Caesar. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking her, too?!”

“I have a boyfriend,” Scarlett said.

“Like that means something to him.” The girl scoffed.

Caesar practically shoved her away from him. “Fuck off, Emma, before you make me mad. I told you not to do that jealous shit.”

“But Caesar, I was just--”

“Fuck off, Emma.” He waved his hand as if he was dismissing a servant. She stomped off. He looked back at Scarlett. “Now, as I asked, what the fuck do you want? Your bitch ass boyfriend going to be alright with you talking to me?”

Scarlett shook her head. “This was a mistake. Sorry to bother you.”

She turned to walk away, but Caesar stepped around her to stand in front of her again.

“Look, I’m just in a shit mood. I apologize,” he said, shrugging.

“Tough mid-term, right?” Scarlett held up her test to make her point.

He took it out of her hand and looked at it, whistling when he noticed the patches of red on specific pages. He held it out to her to give it back. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t that hard? Everyone in the class said they blew it.”

“It wasn’t that hard. That’s what I mean. Someone had to be the reason the rest of y’all didn’t get a curve on that. I don’t mind being hated for ruining all your grades,” Caesar said with a wink.

Scarlett snatched her mid-term back. “You’re lying. You sleep in class everyday. Who is the person helping you so I can ask them to help me?”

“That’s a really poor attempt at asking for help, Scarlett. You’re assuming I’m doing something wrong to pass because... because why exactly?”

“Because you’re you. You don’t care about your grades. You play football and you’re good at it. You’re going to get to college on that. If not, I’m sure your parents know someone who is going to do some creative admissions work to get you into school.”

“You’re really not good at asking for help. You’ve already insulted me twice. Usually, people compliment people that they are asking for something from.”

“Just tell me who helped you.”

Caesar crouched down so he was eye level with her. “Listen to me. Pay attention when I say it. No one helped me. Not only am I good at football and devilishly handsome, I’m also really fucking smart. It’s crazy, right? Besides, it’s not like Terrebonne is a step up from Vandebilt on the ol’ academic scale.”

“You’re bullshitting me.”

“Is it really that hard to believe I know some shit other than catching a football? You must have a really low opinion of that bitch ass motherfucker you fucking.”

“We don—Devin isn’t you,” she said before running her hand through her hair “Can you please just help me? I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I need to keep my grades up for scholarships.”

Caesar sighed dramatically. “Alright, I’ll help you. We can meet at your place and I’ll tutor you.”

“No, my dad would flip his lid. We’ll go to the library.”

“No can do. Banned from the library. They don’t like you getting head in the stacks.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Never heard that before from someone who is likely actively sucking dick,” Caesar said, rolling his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, handing it to her. “Put your number in there and we’ll figure it out.”

As Scarlett was putting her number into his phone, she couldn’t help but notice the ridiculous amount of texts that were popping up on the screen in the short time she was holding the device. Almost all of them were from girls. She quickly popped her number in and handed the phone back to him.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “No problem.”

The splatter of vomit hitting the pavement drew her attention to the boy who’d been bouncing around only moments before. He doubled over as he continued to throw up.

“Is he alright?” she asked Caesar.

“Should be,” he shrugged again. “He just took some vyvanse or something.”

“Vyvanse or something?!”

“Yeah, vyvanse or something. He’ll be alright. Bentley always gets a little too fucked up if he does something other than smoke weed.” Caesar walked back over to his friends as they helped Bentley sit on the curb away from the vomit.

Scarlett took a deep breath before she walked away. She was already beginning to regret asking him to help her.

-*****-

“We’re goin’ to have to have like eight fuckin’ spring games with all these motherfuckers on the team. Coach wild for talking about not cuttin’ anyone,” Hasan said as he hefted a box of groceries onto one of five, slowly-filling carts.

“It wasn’t a problem last year when he did that. We still only had like 60 guys on the team. Now, all the freshmen want to play next year, all the Vandebilt fuckers want to play, and it’s like they’re handing out scholarships just for showing up,” Devin said, shoving racks of ribs into another box as the cashier slid them to him.

“You know Thomas really out there thinkin’ Britton Cazayoux is going to start over me? He’s not bad, but c’mon. Guy looks like the second coming of Sam McGuffie.”

“Who?”

“Exactly. This ain’t Texas or Oklahoma or Ohio. He’s not doing all that shit he did last year against 5A squads.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have two good backs. Keep my ass off the field.” Devin slid a full box to Hasan who put it on the carts.

“Do y’all talk about anything other than football?” the cashier asked. “It’s annoying and we still have a couple dozen baskets on this boat order.”

Hasan laughed as he retook his spot next to Devin. “Gina, you cute and all, but I’m not going to stop talkin’ about the game I love just because it pisses you off. What you got against football anyway? A football player broke your heart?”

“I think it takes more than that to turn someone against a sport,” Devin said.

Gina shook her head. “Nope, I’ve never dated a football player. It’s a dumb sport. That’s all.”

“Now, I don’t normally date white girls, but I’ll make an exception for you. I’m good at findin’ the hole, no matter how tight,” Hasan said.

Devin frowned at the absurdity of that line. Gina stopped scanning items and stared at Hasan for a moment before starting to laugh.

“That has never worked, has it?” Gina asked.

“Did it work just now?”

“No.”

“Then not yet,” Hasan said with a shrug.

Their manager, Ralph, walked toward the register lane with a bag of crackling in his hand. He pulled one piece out, ate it then looked at Hasan and Devin. “Y’all doing a lot of talking over here.”

“You’re the one got us doing this boat order instead of the bag boys,” Devin said.

Ralph nodded before waving for Gina to follow him. “I need you to help me with something. Devin can scan all that shit.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You just hold it up to the scanner. It ain’t rocket science. Ask Regina to total it out for you if you finish before she comes back.”

He didn’t give Devin an opportunity to response as he and Gina walked off.

“You think he fuckin’ her?” Hasan asked when they were out of ear shot. “Dude be tryin’ to fuck on all the bitches in here. He gotta succeed with one or two.”

Devin walked around and began scanning items. “Isn’t he like 35? 40?”

“If I had a list of chicks I’d take a charge for, which I don’t but if I did, Gina would be on that list. She a lil’ baddie on some shit.”

“That wouldn’t be a charge. Y’all are the same age.” Devin pointed to the items he’d slid down. “Could you get that shit in the box?”

Hasan shook his head and started boxing the goods. “Tell me you wouldn’t fuck her if given the chance.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Lyin’ ass nigga.”

“I wouldn’t. Something seems off about her to me.”

“She can take something off her for me. You just in love and unwilling to appreciate outside beauty. That girl is fine, and you know it. Yeah, she’s a little bitchy but if she letting Ralph hit then that’s easy pickings. Free pussy.”

Devin stopped scanning. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

“It’s just obvious.” Hasan shrugged. “So, like I was sayin’ earlier. Coach Hill need to let some of these motherfuckers go. Or he needs to create like a junior-junior varsity to trim down the people on varsity. I’m not tryin’ to get five touches a game. I’m tryin’ to go pro.”

“I’m not thinking about going pro, but I won’t have that problem so I can’t relate. Look on the bright side, the team has a lot of options if your ass turns out to be shit and fumbles everytime you get hit in the backfield.”

“Fuck you. I’ve never fumbled in my life. And you pussy Louisiana niggas ain’t goin’ to be the first to make me drop the rock.”

Devin laughed. “Alright, man. I forgot Florida invented football and Louisiana hasn’t been the per-capita champs of NFL players for the last 60 years.”

“Who has more pros? Florida or Louisiana?”

“Florida has more people. That’s like asking who has more between California and Oregon.”

“So, what you’re saying is that Florida has more? Did I hear that right?”

“Florida has more people.” Devin shook his head. “You’re fucking stupid, man.”

“Don’t be mad that I’m right.”

Devin shoved a couple jugs of water toward Hasan. “Just put this shit on the cart so we can finish this shit and get the fuck out of here.”
Last edited by Caesar on 02 Sep 2019, 04:36, edited 2 times in total.
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