War of the Roses: Redux Edition

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Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 29 Oct 2019, 20:01

Captain Canada wrote:
29 Oct 2019, 17:49
Bigger fan of the all Devin update than the all Caesar update, but I think that speaks on how you build your characters. Good shit.
that's because you are a bigger fan of Devin in general :curtain:
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 04 Nov 2019, 20:29

Loser Leaves Town

“It’s a fucking wheel route. You know what that is, don’t you?”

Bart shoved Ron away from them as the two walked off the field to be replaced by the punting unit. Bart spun and got into the quarterback’s face when he noticed that he was still being followed.

“I know the fucking plays. It’s not my fault that you don’t know how to go through progressions and can’t function with your boyfriend out there, cracka,” Bart said, shoving Ron again. “Maybe try looking off the safety.”

Ron gestured between the two of them. “Which one of us has won a state championship before?”

“Get your head back in the fucking game!” Coach Hill shouted at the two of them before turning back to the field.



“Terrebonne with the ball here after a punt by East St. John. DeRossi’s back in the shotgun with Santiago and Jackson to his left and right. Noah John and David Smith are the wide receivers. DeRossi takes the snap and scans the defense. He turns and fires it out to Santiago who can’t hold on to it. DeRossi throws his hands up in frustration. He doesn’t look like a happy camper down there.”



“King on the tackle and East St. John are going to be forced to punt again. Terrebonne’s offense still seems to be stuck in neutral, but at least their defense is stepping up to keep them in the game.”



“The Tigers convert on the field goal and they finally get on the board here to make it 10-3 East St. John.”



“DeRossi hands it off to Santiag—It's on the ground! It’s on the ground! It looks like Terrebonne has recovered it, but that was a heart in mouth moment. They just completely botched the mesh point. This Terrebonne team is all out of sorts.”



“Another Terrebonne field goal and they cut the lead down to four here in the third quarter.”



“Pooka Johnson takes it into the endzone for the Wildcats and the lead is now up to 11. Terrebonne is really struggling in this one.”



“Santiago bounces it outside and takes it to the 40, the 30, the 20, the 10! He’s brought down at the 3 yard line and the Tigers might put this one in the endzone!”



“DeRossi hits Noah John on the slant and it’s a touchdown for the Tigers! Don’t leave yet, ladies and gentlemen. We might have a ball game heading into the fourth quarter. 17-12 East St. John.”



“Callahan is stacked up at the line of scrimmage and the Wildcats will have to punt it away.”



“DeRossi can’t find his target and the Tigers will have to punt it away.”



“Pooka misses wide on that one and it’ll be another East St. John punt.”



“Santiago is brought down just shy of the first down. Terrebonne will bring out their punting team with only two minutes remaining in the game. They’ll need a play here from the defense if they want to get the opportunity to go for the win.”



“The ball is snapped. Johnson sets to pitch it on the option, but he’s LEVELED by Devin King on the corner blitz! He’s lucky he held onto that one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Devin King deliver a hit like that, but oh boy! Terrebonne calls their third and final timeout. It’ll be third and nine for the Wildcats coming out of it. Forty-three seconds remaining on the clock.”



Devin snapped his helmet off and shoved away the other players congratulating him on the big hit as he walked to the sideline. His blood was boiling. This game had made him angrier than any had in his life. He paced near the edge of the huddle as Coach Detiveaux gave the defense words of encouragement and demanding they get the stop to try to get the ball back to the offense for one last miracle heave.

Devin pushed his way to the middle of the huddle abruptly. “Do y’all want to fucking win or not?! I didn’t fucking come out here to lose on fucking Homecoming because y’all left your fucking nuts at home tonight! I know y’all not going to let me hit harder than y’all! You motherfuckers better knock a nigga shit loose on this next play! Get the fucking ball back and fuck the offense! Run that bitch back yourself!”

There was a pregnant pause as the players looked at one another, shocked by Devin’s outburst and the words he used.

“You heard the man!” Coach Detiveaux shouted. “I can’t repeat it, but...”

“I got you coach. Devin said knock a nigga shit loose, y’all better give a motherfucker a case of CTE right now!” Kenyatta shouted.



“This could be the last play of the game. Johnson is in the shotgun with Anderson to his right. East St. John has two tight ends on the field. Johnson gets the snap and hands it off to Anderson up the middle. He bounces it outside and is SMASHED by Olivier. The ball is loose by Johnson scoops it up!

Johnson ducks under a tackler and gets a bit of daylight. It’s a foot race to the first down marker between the quarterback and King. Johnson leaps for it as King pushes him out of bounds. Where are the referees going to spot it?!”

“They’re signaling first down! They’re signaling first down! East St. John is going to win and drop Terrebonne to 4-2!”



Caesar walked onto the field, wearing his Vandebilt letterman’s jacket, as the Terrebonne players sat on various bits of turf, dejected. They would’ve won if he had been allowed to play, but stupid coaches make stupid decisions.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket as it vibrated and tapped back a quick response to Kaley as he walked toward the Field House to hear whatever sorry excuse Coach Hill was going to give for them taking another L.

He passed by Devin, squatting down at the same place where he’d failed to stop Pooka Johnson from diving for the first down.

Caesar stopped and turned to him. He held a thumb up as he spoke. “Great pep talk, bro. You really inspired them to a win.”

“Fuck you, man,” Devin said, leaning back so he sat on the turf.

Caesar shrugged and started walking again. “Enjoy wallowing in that L y’all took tonight. Next time, try wrapping up.”

He chuckled to himself when Devin threw another ‘fuck you’ at his back.

-*****-
“Hold on, coach.”

Danny Hill turned around to see the boosters approaching him. He thought about getting in his car and driving off, but instead he stepped away from the door and shut it. He’d learned there was no quit in these guys so he might as well let them say their peace.

“It’s late, gentlemen. I’d like to get home to my wife,” the coach said as he watched the last few cars pull out of the parking lot and head to locations unknown.

Davis Gautreaux, the ring leader of them all, was the one to speak. “This won’t take too much of your time. We just took a straw poll. You’re out as coach. We’ve already discussed it with Coach Thomas. He’ll be taking over.”

“A straw poll? That’s not how this works. I’m a tenured teacher. No silver-spoon pampered men are going to fire me in a parking lot.”

“I’m not talking about your role as a teacher. I’m talking about your job as the coach of this football team. This isn’t our first rodeo, son. Either you tender your resignation or the school finds out that you’ve been doctoring the grades of football players to keep them eligible and you lose all that tenure.”

“That’s a blatant lie. I’ve never done anything of the sort in my life.”

Gautreaux crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that a gamble that you’re willing to take? It’s hard to feed a family when you can’t a job anywhere.”

“Funny considering you’re talking about my livelihood right now.”

“Look, coach. Just take some time off and wait until the offseason to go and make a change. I heard that David Thibodaux in Lafayette is going to be looking for a coach.”

Danny Hill ran a hand through his hair, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He yanked his car door open and got into the car. “This isn’t over.”

“It very much is. Good luck in the future, coach.”



Neil Thomas dragged his feet through his living room. The banging on the front door sounded again and he reached up onto the wall to take a shotgun off the rack before going to the door. He glanced through the peep hole and sighed, placing the gun on the floor next to the door.

He opened the door and leaned against the jamb. “I’ve been telling you all season that you’ve been fighting against the inevitable.”

Danny Hill looked over his shoulder at his car and then back at the man who would be taking a job he’d been in for over a decade. “I always thought there was a level of respect between ball coaches. A bond, you know? You’re taking half of my paycheck for what? Because I lost two games?”

“I’m just the person they know can get this team to the playoffs so they can say their kid played in the Superdome. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.”

“Look.” Coach Thomas leaned further out of the door frame. “I didn’t make the rules here. What do you think they’d do with me if I lost too many times? These rich parents? They all want to live through their sons. Live out some glory days they missed out on. You have to win so they can do that. If you want to blame someone, blame God for that ice storm that damaged the roof of the school. You came in making mistakes. Benching their boys. Putting them in different positions. You got dropped in the deep end, son. Losing was acceptable before. It isn’t anymore.”

Hill took another one last look at the older coach, shook his head and turned to leave. “I guess I’ll see you around campus since they’re graciously letting me keep my job as a teacher. When you go in there and lay your head down, remember you took 40 percent of my salary.”

With that, Terrebonne’s now-former coach walked back to his car and drove off.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 04 Nov 2019, 21:01

Damn, that shit is cold. Devin balling though still.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 07 Nov 2019, 19:33

Just Let Go

“Do y’all have to be so stereotypical?”

Caesar looked up from the bathroom counter. He glanced at Janelle, who’d spoken, and then Britton who only shrugged. He sighed and went back to smashing pills in a plastic baggie with the heel of his shoe.

“Couldn’t you just pop the pills and cut out the need to take over a girls’ bathroom?” she asked. She turned to Britton. “Talk some sense into your friend.”

Caesar ignored her, picked up the bag and motioned Emma over to him. He dabbed a line of the dust across her breasts where her dress exposed skin. She smiled at tilted her head back and he snorted it up. Then licked up the rest of it and kissed her.

Janelle rolled her eyes. “It’s almost like you go out of your way to be the rich kid who uses. If you have to get high to have a good time, maybe you should find another way to have a good time.”

Caesar shrugged before dropping his shoe on the floor and stomping his foot into it. “You’d probably loosen up a bit if you started partying, you know? I have some more in my pocket if you want to find out.”

“Let’s go,” Britton said, putting his hand on her back and leading her out of the bathroom.

Caesar put his arm around Emma and followed them. He looked down and wiped the spit off her chest before they walked through the door, lest anyone see.

“Where’s Ron?” Caesar asked Bentley and Anthony who were hanging out on the other side of the door with their dates.

Anthony turned away from the short, freckled redhead he’d brought to the dance to point at Ron and Francesca walking toward them. “Went to see who was going to win Homecoming king.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t you?” Caesar asked Ron when he was within earshot.

“Fuck no. It was that fucking guy Caleb Hebert. I’m not hating on anyone’s lifestyle, but I don’t think being able to properly contour is grounds for someone winning any kind of popularity contest,” Ron said.

“He is really good at it, though,” Francesca said.

“You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“I don’t get why you’re so mad about it. We haven’t even gone here a year yet,” Caesar said.

“He has a point. It’s not like they like any of us,” Bentley said. His date smacked him on the arm. “Well, most of them don’t like any of us.”

“I never said I was mad about not winning. I’m mad about who got it, specifically, over me,” Ron said.

Emma nudged Caesar with her hip. “As much as I want to pretend about that shit, this dress is way too tight. I’m dying to get out of this thing. Can we go now?”

“I don’t need more motivation than that.” He looked at the rest of the group. “Party at my place, right?”

Ron nodded. “Yep. We’ll catch up.”

Caesar shrugged and walked behind Emma as they headed for the door. He reached in his coat pocket for the other pills he had on him, but stopped short of taking the bag out with the groups of students milling about the venue.

As they turned corner to leave, he saw Devin, Hasan, Trigga, Bart, Kenyatta and their dates walking in. The five of them all gave him a look that could kill as he passed. His only reaction was to wink at Bart.

Until he got a good look at Devin’s date.

He stopped for a moment and she looked up at him, her eyes widening. He laughed before continuing on.

-*****-
“Didn’t expect to see him here,” Carla said under her breath.

Devin looked over at her. “Caesar? How do you know him?”

“Everyone at Houma Christian is in the same circles as the kids who were at Vandebilt. That’s how I knew Gina before she transferred. Me and Caesar had a thing, I guess, for a bit. He cheated on me, though so fuck him.”

“We’re just going to ignore all of that and not mention it again.”

They followed the group through the venue. Devin was a bit shocked at how packed it still was despite them getting to the dance much later than they’d expected to.

“Fair enough.” Carla scanned the crowd. “I’m going to go find the girl with a flask attached to her leg. I need a shot or something.”

“You assuming there is some girl here with a flask attached to her leg?”

“There is always a girl with a flask attached to her leg. Probably a few of them.” She laughed. “You’ll have to come with me if you’re trying to get a little tipsy yourself, though. But I don’t know if you’ll want to drink from something that’s been up around some random chick’s hooha all night.”

“You realize that you are going looking to drink from something that’s been up around some random chick’s ‘hooha’ all night.”

She shrugged. “Alcohol kills germs, right?” She grabbed ahold of the lapel of his coat and slipped her wallet into his pocket. “Hold on to that for me, will you?”

Carla turned around to walk away but bumped into Scarlett who had been cutting through the crowd to get to Devin.

“Oh, sorry. Excuse me,” Scarlett said.

Carla looked over her shoulder at Devin whose lip was slightly curled up at the sight of Scarlett. Carla nodded slowly.

“Oh no, honey.” Carla stepped back in front of the other girl. “I don’t really know you all that well, but I know this ship has sailed on you.”

“This ship? Who even are you?”

Carla smiled. “I’m your replacement, sweetie. Now, kick rocks. I’m not afraid to fight a bitch, but I don’t want to break my nails tonight.”

Scarlett looked to Devin and he only shrugged. Her head dropped and she turned back to go the way she’d came.

Devin stepped up alongside Carla. “You didn’t have to do that, you know?”

“I don’t like people who cheat. That’s just low. Alright.” She brushed her hand against his. It was a very slight touch. “You sure you don’t want any crotch wine if I find the girl with the flask?”

Devin laughed. “I think I’m good.”

-*****-
Devin looked out over the balcony of someone’s house Gina had brought them to. He held a nearly full beer bottle in his hand as music thumped through the walls and high school students got up to God knows what.

Hasan was nearby, whispering something to his date, Ariane. Although the group had been together for hours, the girl still seemed shy. It made Devin wonder where Hasan had found her.

His date on the other hand...

He turned around and leaned against the railing. Just inside the house, Carla and Gina were dancing together. Carla caught him looking and held eye contact with him as she danced. There was already some chemistry between them, but his mind kept wandering elsewhere. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had a lot of experience with girls not named Scarlett.

Bringing the bottle up to his lips, he took a bit of a swig. Beer still didn’t quite sit right with him, but he felt awkward to be at a party and not be holding some type of alcohol.

Carla raised her hand and beckoned him over. He pushed away from the railing and walked over to her as she broke apart from Gina. Gina walked by, patting him on the arm as she passed.

He stopped inches away from her. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. His body reacted, and he could tell she knew. She smiled and grabbed his hand, leading him through the crowd of bodies. She found an empty bedroom, locking the door behind them.

“Where are you right now?” she asked, grabbing the beer bottle from him and drinking from it.

“Where am I?”

She kicked off her shoes before sitting on the bed and nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been in space all night. Well, most of the night. You were mostly fine when we were at the dance.”

He shrugged, scanning the room they were in. Most of the stuff on the walls and the green-based décor implied it was a guy’s room. He felt a bit bad about being in someone’s room without permission, but he imagined that was the perils of having a party at your house. He flicked through a notebook that was on the desk as he walked around.

“Come sit down. You’re making me jittery.”

“Sorry.” He sat down next to her, but took the beer back. He felt like he needed to do something with his hands and holding the beer was as good of an idea as any.

“You’re thinking about your ex, right?”

He opened his mouth, but closed it before he said anything.

Carla laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t feel bad about it. We just met each other. It’s not like we’re three years into a relationship and you’re still thinking about her. Then I’d have to cut your dick off and no one wants that.”

“Yeah, I am very attached to my dick. It’s been with me my whole life.”

“So, let me tell you want you need to do.” She got up on her knees and moved around until she was behind him. She propped her head up on his shoulder. “You need to take out your phone and send her a text right now. Tell her that you’re over her and you hope that y’all can be friends in the future but for now she gotta fuck off.”

“Fuck off is a strong sentiment.”

She ran her hand over his chest. “You seem strong enough to me to be saying strong things. So, go ahead. Get your phone out and send it.”

“I don’t know about all that. Ignoring her has been working pretty well so far.”

“Nope.” Carla ran her hand over his chest to his stomach then along his belt to his pocket. She smiled when he inhaled sharply. Her hand snaked into his pocket and pulled his phone out which she dropped on his lap. “There, I’ve done the hard part. You just have to send it.”

Devin sighed and picked up his phone, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb. He scrolled to the weeks-old text thread from Scarlett. The last couple dozen texts all from her. He typed out a version out what Carla had said. She didn’t give him a chance to have second thoughts as she reached around him and hit send.

“She blew her chance. Just let go of her,” she whispered. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull it up, but he stopped her. “What? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn--”

“It’s not anything you did. It’s just I--” He paused and inhaled sharply. “I’ve never exactly had sex before and I don’t walk around expecting to have sex so... Don’t know exactly what I’m saying here, but just thought I’d throw that out there since I’m not really experienced here.”

She shrugged even though he was facing away from her. “I’ve only been with two guys so my expectations aren’t all that high. You need to let go for a night, though. Let your mind run wild in the morning.”

She pulled his shirt up again and this time he let her take it off.

“I don’t have a condom or anything either,” he said, feeling embarrassed about the entire situation.

Carla reached her hand into his other pocket and pulled out a flat, square-shaped golden package. She held it up in front of him.

“What? That’s not mine.”

She laughed. “Gina put it there a little while ago when you weren’t looking. She has quick hands and I think you were a little distracted.”

“I’m going to have to watch my wallet around her.”

She turned his head so he was looking at her. “Maybe so, but for now you just watch me.”

She kissed him before maneuvering so that she was straddling his waist. Devin wrapped his arms around her, ignoring his phone that had been knocked to the floor and was vibrating with text notifications and missed calls.

-*****-
Caesar stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom. He picked up his cellphone and checked the time. A quarter to three. He’d taken a bit too much and now he couldn’t sleep despite having gone a few rounds with Emma. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow despite the A/C on full blast and the strong chill outside.

Flicking his thumb across the screen of his phone, he pulled up his text thread with Kaley. He took a step back into his room to make sure Emma was asleep then went back into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

A few taps and the phone started ringing. It went to voicemail, so he called again. It went to voicemail again, so he called a third time.

She answered that time.

“Ca-- Caesar?” her voice was groggy and rough.

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

He heard shuffling on the other end of the line and the sound of a door clicking. She was barely above a whisper when she spoke. “What time is it? I thought y’all had Homecoming tonight?”

“It’s almost three and we did.”

“Caesar, you know I’m at David’s.”

He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him do it. “I don’t really care. What’s he going to do? Not a damn thing but be mad and go back to sleep.”

“Caesar, stop it.”

He changed the subject. “I saw your cousin tonight.”

“Carla? Not that Houma is the biggest place out there, but where’d you see her? And if you fucked her, I’d rather not know about it.”

“You have a low opinion of your cousin. I don’t think I can go for a round two there. She apparently knows Devin King and was his date tonight.”

“Who is that?”

“A pussy ass bitch. You should come visit Carla. Don’t they say that cousins are your first best friends? I’m sure she misses you terribly.”

She sighed. “Between Carla and David, I don’t see what you’re trying to get at here. Carla doesn’t like you and David can be possessive at times.”

“Leave his ass on the Northshore.”

“I—”

“Leave his ass on the Northshore or come when he’s offshore. It’s not rocket science unless you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that.”

There was a soft knock at the bathroom door. Caesar thought he was hearing it over the phone until her heard Emma say that she needed to pee.

“Tell me that you’ll come. Over the holidays or something. You won’t have any excuse.”

“Caesar.”

“Tell me.”

Emma banged on the door harder. “Caesar, open the fucking door!”

“I can’t promise that. Was that someone yelling?”

“Just say it anyway.”

She paused for a moment. “Okay, I’ll come.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you go now. Talk soon, Kaley.”

He hung up the phone and placed it on the face bowl. Leaning forward, he looked at himself in the mirror and saw that he was still sweating, and his pupils were dilated even in the dark. It was looking like a long comedown.

“Caesar!” Emma shouted and followed it up with what sounded like her kicking the door.

Caesar turned and ripped the door open.

“Who the fuck were you talking to?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Did you need to piss or did you get up to listen to my conversation? Because if it’s the latter, you can get your shit and go home.”

“I just told you that I need to pee. It’s not my fault that you were in here talking to someone. You could’ve done that somewhere other than the fucking bathroom.”

Caesar stepped out of her way and held his hand up to usher her into the bathroom.

“Thank you.” She walked passed him to the toilet but paused when she noticed he was still in the room. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

“Aren’t you going to piss?”

“Do you want to fucking watch or something else fucking weird?”

He shrugged before grabbing his phone from the sink. “The thought crossed my mind. Not something I’m into though. Next time, go to one of the other fucking bathrooms instead of bothering me.”

Her rebuttal was cut off when he closed the door behind him. He walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it. Flipping his phone over in his hands, he pulled up the text thread with Kaley again. He read over their last few conversations for a moment before deleting it as he’d done every night despite the myriad of security features on the phone.

She’d admitted to deleting their texts constantly to keep her boyfriend from seeing them. Some part of him felt he should do the same even though he didn’t care if Emma saw the texts.

Tossing the phone back on the bed, he got up and walked back over to the bathroom door. He opened it slightly so Emma could hear him. “Hey, can you blow me before you go back to sleep?”
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 07 Nov 2019, 21:23

Yo this nigga Caesar something else :drose:
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 13 Nov 2019, 20:24

The More Things Change...

“The clock is going to strike zero here in Luling and Terrebonne have gotten back to winning ways with a dominating 47-10 win over district powerhouse Destrehan, but there are probably more questions coming out of this one than going in. What happened to Coach Danny Hill to make him resign? And why has his successor, Neil Thomas, decided to completely reshuffle the depth chart?"

-*****-
Devin yawned, his hand the only thing holding his head up as he tried to get a few moments’ rest on his lunch break. He’d drawn the short straw on working the earliest shift despite not getting home from Luling until midnight. Now, he was sitting outside of the store, struggling to keep his eyes open. It likely wasn’t a good look to the customers who were passing by.

“You look like shit, son.”

Devin cracked open one of his eyes as a man wearing a Houston jacket sat down across from him. He pulled a pack of gum out of his pocket, took a piece out, and offered the pack to Devin. Devin waved his hand and muttered a thanks.

“I imagine this ain’t your first rodeo with recruiters popping up out of the blue,” the man said. He had a pronounced Texas drawl and chewed the stick of gum like he needed every tooth in his mouth and every muscle in his face to do so.

Devin nodded.

“Then I ain’t gonna bullshit ya. Name’s Cam Harris. I’m on the staff over at U of H,” he said, tapping his jacket. He pulled his phone out of its pocket, one of the more modern folding ones. He brought up a picture of a whiteboard and tapped the screen. “You see that? That’s you. On the top of your recruiting board. These other schools. They’re recruiting every top corner in the country, hoping to get one or two. We want you and we want you to start as a freshman. “

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

The man shrugged before taking a card out of his pocket and sliding it across the table. “I’ve shown you my hand. We got a scholarship waiting for you when you’re ready to give us a visit or a verbal. Both’ll do just fine.”

Devin slipped the card into his pocket and spared Cam Harris a nod as the man walked away. He was replaced at the table by Carla.

She looked over her shoulder, with a suspicious look on her face. “Do those guys stalk you to figure out where you work or...”

“This isn’t even the strangest place a recruiter has popped up. They ask my grandpa, or he tells them, I don’t know. Or they use whatever other means to find out where I’ll be. I never used to see them. Now they pop up every few days. Sometimes, a few of them on the same day. Calls, texts, emails, shit in the mail. It’s crazy.”

“Huh. I knew you played football, but I didn’t know you were good.” She waved her hand over her shoulder. “Like that good.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

She winked at him and set a plastic bag on the table. A shirt and a water bottle fell out of it. “You left your shirt at mine the other day. I didn’t know if you wanted it back so I brought it to you just in case.”

“Thanks.”

Things had evolved fairly quickly between the two of them. He wasn’t sure whether she considered them to be together and he wasn’t sure whether he considered them to be together. In the last week, he’d saw her everyday and the number of times he’d had sex in his life had tripled in a week.

She seemed to know she was jumping into the rebound role, but didn’t seem to care. He enjoyed her company fine enough. There was no need to go looking elsewhere at the moment, to him.

“What’s in the bottle?” he asked, picking it up and looking at the greenish-brown liquid that barely moved as he shook the bottle. “A science project gone wrong?”

“No! That’s my hangover buster. One bottle of that and you’ll feel good as new. You said you were tired from the game so I whipped some up for you.”

“I don’t have a hangover though.” He opened the bottle and sniffed at it, recoiling at the strong smell of hot sauce and cayenne pepper on top of other scents that he couldn’t even begin to pick out. “That’s foul. You sure you aren’t trying to kill me or something?”

She reached across the table to push the bottle closer to him. “Just drink it. You won’t be any good to Rouse’s if you pass out in the freezers.”

“I don’t work in the coolers. What’s in it?”

“I can’t tell you that. I’m going to market it one day. Now, just trust me and drink it. You’ll feel better.”

He sighed, before pinching his nose and choking down the “drink.” He felt like he needed to start chewing, but the need to suppress it coming back up meant he just swallowed it. It was easily in the top 5 most disgusting things he’d ever consumed.

He wiped his mouth and put the bottle down to see Carla smiling at him. “Is it a hangover buster because it makes you want to throw up anyway?”

“Stop being a pussy bitch. If I can drink that every few Sunday mornings, you can handle it once. You’ll feel great in about 20 minutes.”

“I’m guessing I’ll be dead or dying by then.”

Ralph stuck his head out of a nearby door. “Devin, you need to clock back in.”

Devin picked up his phone and checked the time. “It’s only been 20 minutes.”

“I’ll let you get a 15 later. C’mon, the truck’s backing in now. You gotta unload that shit or Old Larry’s going to have to do it himself.”

Devin shook his head and grabbed the bag from the table. “Looks like duty calls,” he said to Carla.

She leaned over the table before he stood up and gave him a quick kiss. “Text me later. I’ll be at home.”

He nodded. He took a moment to watch her walk away and admire the other side of her. When he turned around, he noticed Ralph staring at her as well.

“That’s your girl?” Ralph asked.

“She’s too young for you, man,” Devin said, walking past him into the store.

“If she’s 17, then there isn’t a court of law in this state that could have a problem with it. It’s all legal, baby.” He laughed at his own joke.

“I hope you don’t end up with daughters if there are people out here who think like that.”

Ralph stopped laughing. “That isn’t funny. Get your ass to the back and unload the damn truck.”

-*****-
“Ooooooperator! Won’t you put me on through, I’m gotta send my love down to Baton Rouge! Huuuuuuurrrry up, won’t you put her on the line. I gotta talk to the girl just one more time!”

Caesar reached into the center console, grabbed Ron’s phone and turned the song off moments before Ron jerked the phone from his grasp.

“What the fuck, man? You know that shit is a fucking classic,” Ron said as he put the song back on.

“Beethoven’s shit is classic, too, but I don’t hear you singing that. Stick to the shit you’re good at. It’s definitely not singing. Besides, you don’t even like going to Baton Rouge.”

Ron shrugged. “It’s because I haven’t met a woman named Samantha. Callin’ Baton Roooooooouge!”

“It’s not too late to switch your commitment to LSU and then you can sing that junk all the time like they’ve been doing for the last 50 years. I’m sure ‘Franny’ would like it if you went to school with her. Y’all pick out baby names yet?”

“I’m not the one with the crazy bitch who’ll stop taking her birth control to get knocked up to try to trap me in a relationship.”

“I can afford an abortion or fifteen.”

“We’ll see what you say when Emma,” he paused as he pulled into Caesar’s driveway. “Or any of the other thirty girls you’ve fucked this week, come up to you telling you that another Jenkins boy is on the way. Hell, your dad wouldn’t let you kill that kid.”

“Mom would.”

Ron held up his finger then dropped it. “You’re right.”

“Alright, man. Send me a text when you figure out where we’re going tonight. I heard you and Bentley talking about going to Bourg but I’m not trying to hang out with any motherfuckers with big yee yee trucks with nuts hanging from the hitch.”

“So, basically, you don’t want to be around too many people with bigger dicks than you?”

Caesar shoved the door open. “Hardy har. I’m not going to Bourg unless you let me fuck Francesca in the ass tonight. How about that?”

“Fuck out my car. And don’t slam the door.”

Caesar shut the door with a medium amount of force, just enough to not be an asshole but enough to get Ron a bit riled up.

Ron stopped when he made it to the street and rolled down the window, calling Caesar over. “Hey, man. One more thing.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you this because, let’s be honest, you’re a fucking asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Yes, you are. But seriously, shut up and listen for once. Britton committed this morning. He’s going to Southeast Missouri.”

Caesar covered his mouth as he held back a laugh.

“See? Why the fuck are you laughing?”

“He couldn’t go to a shit FBS school? What is Southeast Missouri? NAIA? Division III? He just fucking started last night. He could’ve held out for a better offer.”

“First of all, you know Southeast Missouri is Division I. Second of all, that’s where he feels comfortable so I’m not going to give him shit and neither are you. He already feels bad enough when we talk about going to Power 5 schools.”

“He deserves shit for committing to Southeast Missouri, man.”

Ron jabbed his finger at him. “I’m serious, Caesar. I’ll kick your ass myself. Don’t give him shit. Tell him congratulations and good luck. That he’ll kill it or some shit. Actually, just don’t say anything because that’ll sound fake.”

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Yeah, you are. Don’t give him shit, Caesar. I’ll text you when we’re heading out to Bourg.” He pulled off before Caesar could respond.

Sighing, Caesar walked up the driveway and into his house. He stopped to thumbed through the mail that was on the counter. A lot of it was for him, more informational packets from schools still trying to recruit him.

That was one thing that annoyed him about universities. Despite all the pushes for more environmentally friendly practices, they still mailed pamphlets to prospective students as if they didn’t also email all the same material.

Caesar looked up at the sound of his father shouting in the living room.

“I don’t a fuck what you think is best for him, Sydney! I don’t give a fuck what he THINKS he wants to do! He’s a fucking junior. No one cares about a commitment from a junior. He’ll put putting out shit on social media tomorrow that he’s changed his mind and to respect his decision. He’s going to fucking Oklahoma State, period!”

Caesar inched toward the room and peaked around the corner. Deion paced the living room with one of his phones to his ear while his thumb moved quickly across the screen of his other phone, likely sending texts.

“Put him on the fucking phone. I don’t give a fuck about his fucking homework. I will come up there and so help me God if I have to. Don’t you fucking hang up on me, cu—” He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a moment before launching it across the room. It took out one of the flower arrangements that Candice had bought randomly.

Caesar stepped into the room. “Everything cool, pops?”

Deion blinked a few times then walked over to where his phone had hit the floor and picked it up. “Yeah, son. I’m good. I saw the box from last night. You dropped a pass, huh?”

“I had a buck-fifty and two scores though.”

“But you dropped a pass. There aren’t many columns you should have zeros in, but drops? That’s one of them. Colleges don’t want players who have stone hands. Make sure you let DeMarcus know you need to do some more catching drills tomorrow.”

Caesar nodded. “Yeah, got it.”

“I have to make a couple calls to some guys thinking about declaring. As much as the NCAA loosens up, it still keeps being a tight ass about some shit.” The man stopped before he left the room and turned back. “You haven’t given a verbal to anyone other than Oklahoma State, have you?”

“No. I don’t even really talk to other schools. I’ll answer their texts and shit, but that’s about it.”

Deion tapped Caesar twice on the side of his face. “Good, good. Love you, son.” Then he turned around and left the room.

Caesar stood shocked for a moment. Deion Jenkins didn’t show affection. Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and headed upstairs, sending a text to his old fling, Ashley, to tell her to come over before he went out for the night.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 25 Nov 2019, 20:12

Starting to Feeling a Little Blue

“DeRossi is back in the shotgun with three men outwide. Cazayoux in the backfield next to him, as he’s been all night except for a handful of players. This East St. John defense hasn’t had a good time trying to slow down this revitalized Tiger offense and despite being up 56-0, Coach Thomas isn’t ready to take his foot off the gas just yet.

“The ball’s snapped and DeRossi scans the field. He climbs the pocket to avoid the pressure and fires it into Jenkins on the crossing route. Jenkins makes a man miss, breaks away from another and he’s off up the sideline. There ain’t no catching him now! Drink it in, ladies and gentlemen. There are some generational talents out on that field tonight.”

Caesar ran across the back of the endzone and tossed the ball to the nearest ref. Ron met him as he turned to jog back to the sideline. The two of them performed a celebratory handshake with a salute at the end.

Coach Thomas wasn’t pleased with them.

The man grabbed both of them by their jerseys, his voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Stop celebrating every damn touchdown or I’ll bench the both of you right now. Act like you’ve been here before because you have, not like the rest of them.”

Ron and Caesar both knew Coach Thomas meant the original Terrebonne players when he said “them.” They just nodded and shuffled toward the benches as some of the backups looked hopefully up at the scoreboard, hoping for some run in the final ten minutes of the game.

It wouldn’t come.

-*****-
Caesar picked up the ring box in the middle of the table, inspecting the small diamond in the gold-plated piece of jewelry. “Why the fuck would you give her a ring? You’re going to Missouri, not fucking war. And you’re fucking 18.”

“I’d say going to the Ozark Mountains for four years is actually pretty damn close to going to war. Y’all remember that old school about that shit?” Bentley asked. “Bunch of cousin and sister fucking going on out there.”

Britton snatched the ring box from Caesar, looked at it for a moment and then shut it to slip it into his shirt pocket. “First of all, Springfield is like three times the size of Houma. Don’t think y’all be fucking your cousins and sisters here.”

“Have you been to Pointe-aux-Chenes? Cocodrie? Montegut? There is 100% some incest shit going on way down these five bayous,” Ron said, as he plucked an onion off his hamburger and tossed it aside. “I don’t normally agree with Caesar on matters of the heart--”

“Didn’t y’all just both fuck Ashley Smith the other day? At the same time?”

“No. That’s fucking disgusting.” Ron lifted his hamburger and sighed when he saw another onion on it. He took it off. “I went first. And before you say it, I didn’t cheat. Francesca's in Ruston visiting Tech. Can’t cheat if you’re in two different zip codes and for damn sure not in two different area codes.”

Britton turned to Bentley. “Why do we hang out with these two?”

“Hey, man. I’m on the sidelines for this one. I’m not swimming in it and I don’t have a girlfriend,” Bentley said, mixing mayonnaise and ketchup together before using it to eat French fries.

“It’s a stupid concept, B. A fucking promise ring? C’mon, man,” Caesar said. “So, you’re telling me that you’re going to get to Missouri and have three or four of the finest trailer trash hoes throwing pussy at you and you’re going to say ‘No! I can NOT for I hath promised my heart to another!’? No, you’re not.”

“Point for the old English on that dramatization.”

“People meet their spouses in high school all the damn time. My parents met each other at ST,” Britton argued.

“Not to shit on your folks, but did either of them go to college? Or were the pickings just what they had in Bourg?” Ron asked.

“No, but that’s not the point.”

Caesar shook his head. “It is the point. You’re going to Missouri. Janelle’s going to... wherever. I don’t know what the situation looking like up there, but you might walk onto that campus and see some sorority girl willing to suck your dick from the back and do all kinds of strange shit just to be Mrs. Cazayoux. And you’re shutting the door on that.”

“What about that girl we met in the summer that you’ve been puppy-dogging over for the last what? 4 months? At least I’ve had sex with Janelle.”

Ron and Bentley looked at each other and started laughing at Britton’s comeback.

Caesar shrugged. “Sometimes, you have to play the long game, but I’m not declaring I’m going to marry her before I’ve graduated from high school.”

“You’re just spending half your time talking to some chick you haven’t seen since the summer, and that you haven’t fucked. And doesn’t she have a boyfriend? Didn’t her friends say she practically lives with the dude? I don’t think I’m the one doing the weird shit here, bro.”

“When did this become me on trial?”

Ron waved his hand to stop them. “Britton, you go ahead and give Janelle that ring. Caesar, you keep fawning over what’s her name like a 12-year-old who just saw their first titty. Now, can we move on to something else?”

“Hey.” Bentley looked up from his fries. “Do y’all feel bad about coach suddenly not playing half the guys? Like, they didn’t do shit to deserve to get benched.”

“Other than being trash football players?” Caesar asked.

“I mean, we were winning.”

“Thomas is just playing the guys that he knows to get to the end of the season. This type of shit always happens when a coach leaves in the middle of the year. Basic ass offense. Basic ass defense. But with Thomas, he has a whole team he’s familiar with if you just cut out like 60% of the team,” Ron said.

“It is kinda fucked up. I had 32 carries last Friday. Hasan had 6. We won 77-0,” Britton said.

Bentley leaned in. “You guys don’t think coach is racist, huh?”

“He’s an old, white dude from Berwick. He’s definitely racist, but it’s not like we didn’t have black guys on the team at Vandebilt,” Caesar said.

“We had five,” Ron said. “Five guys who weren’t all the way white. Since we can’t say your chalk-looking ass isn’t mostly white.”

“Hardy har.”

Britton shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, but he isn’t helping heal the team so we don’t go into the playoffs at each other's necks. We were winning before and it doesn’t make sense to change something that wasn’t exactly broken.”

“Define broken.”

-*****-
“I’ma fuckin’ quit. It don’t even make sense, man. We been bustin’ our asses all year and now all of sudden, that motherfucker tellin’ me I don’t even need to bother suitin’ up? Man, fuck that shit and fuck that cracker,” Bart said, drawing strange looks from the other patrons in the pizza restaurant. He glared back at them as he rolled a stroller back and forth to soothe his kid.

“What does quitting do? You’re a senior. It’ll just look bad,” Devin said. He sat on a bench near the counter as they waited for Jamie to have a moment to give Bart money to go buy their son more diapers.

“I’m with Devin on that one, cuh,” Trigga said. “At least you ain’t in my shoes. How you get benched when you already the backup? They ain’t even got another quarterback who has played varsity ball before on the team. What they gonna do if DeRossi gets hurt? Put Jenkins at quarterback and have him throw it to himself?”

Bart, Hasan and Devin looked at each other and nodded before saying in unison, “Yeah, probably.”

“Y’all niggas ain’t no help.”

Hasan shook his head. “All we got is two games left this season. I don’t think that punk bitch is going to stay here much longer. E.D. White is 2-6. They coach gonna be gone. He’ll go there. Coach the kinda people he like to coach.”

“I think it depends on what he sees when the freshmen start practicing with us next week. Ron’s graduating. Trigga’s graduating. If he sees the next great hope coming up, he’ll probably stay. If not, yeah, he’s going to E.D. White or some shit,” Devin said.

“You killin’ my buzz, Devin. This weed was already Reggie and you not makin’ it any better,” Bart said. “Keep it up and I’ll send little man home with you and see how you like bein’ up all fuckin’ night.”

“Wrap it up next time.”

“Forgive him. He don’t know the difference between divin’ in some good pussy with a Jimmy on and without one,” Hasan laughed.

“But I know the difference between life without a kid and life with one.”

Bart sucked his teeth as Jamie appeared told him to wait a second longer and then disappeared again. “I’m a whole walkin’ advertisement to not have sex with white bitches. They too fuckin’ fertile and ain’t about no abortions.”

“You know about a clinic in this state that ain’t makin’ you wait an eternity for a couple pills and ain’t tellin’ anyone else?” Trigga asked.

Hasan nudged Devin with his elbow. “Looks like someone else got a kid on the way.”

Devin stood up. “I’ll let y’all figure that one out. It’s hot as hell in here. I’m going to go stand outside because it seems like it’s going to be a bit.”

The cold October air smacked him in the face as soon as he opened the door and walked outside. It was a typical Louisiana fall, swinging from 80 degrees one day to 30 degrees the next. He thought he’d regret putting a hoodie on under his letterman’s jacket, but it turned out to be a good call.

He sat on the curb and watched the cars passing on the street. The situation with the team was fucked up, but he felt as if he was on the outside of it. He hadn’t been outright benched like Bart and Trigga and his time on the field hadn’t been cut to a few touches. He’d just been switched to the other side of the field in favor of Skylar.

Still, it angered him.

Terrebonne was 6-2 because of everyone on the team. Not just the guys who came in from Vandebilt. It was bullshit that Coach Thomas had decided to bench so many of them. Some, he told they didn’t even need to come to practices anymore. The whole situation was fucked.

He noticed a pair of legs out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Scarlett standing over him. She smiled and waved shyly.

“Sorry to sneak up on you,” she said. “Tiffany and Erin wanted to grab a pizza.”

Devin raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, right. You probably don’t care about all that.”

He shook his head. “Nope. I can’t say I do.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing right now, Devin, but I just wanted to tell you again that I’m really sorry and I hope that we can at least be friends one day.” She blurted the words out as if he was going to cut her off as soon as she opened her mouth.

“Alright.”

“That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say? It’s been like a month. I imagine this friendship thing you want doesn’t have an expiration date on it. Maybe next month, I’ll be over it. Maybe not. But right now? Alright.”

Scarlett sighed. “Okay. I guess I’ll take that. See you at school.”

He watched her walk away before turning back to watch the cars again. Absent-mindedly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Glancing down at it, he saw he had a text from Carla asking if he was coming over. He sent back a quick ‘yeah after I drop off the guys’ and put his phone back in his pocket.

For now, he was just wondered if he’d make it to the end of the season without the team killing each other.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 26 Nov 2019, 11:47

Damn, Coach Thomas ain't acting right. Intrigued to see where this goes.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 26 Nov 2019, 17:10

Houma, We Have a Problem

Coach Chase Detiveaux wiped rain from his face as he paced the sideline in Thomas B. Smith Stadium. He crouched and stood up, paced some more. Repeated the process a few more times. He grabbed the playcard from where it sat in the back of his pants and glanced out onto the field. He leaned this way and that way to check the defensive alignment.

Then, he called for an audible to be sent in. Ron looked over the sideline just as the ball was snapped. It sailed past him and skidded across the slick turf. Hasan tried to dive on it, but it squirted from underneath him.

After a few more attempts to corral the ball failed, a South Terrebonne player dove onto top of it. The referees signaled green ball at the Tigers’ 14.

An audible and almost singular groan could be heard coming from the fans.

Coach Detiveaux looked up at the scoreboard. It read 13-0. Thirteen for South Terrebonne. Nothing for Terrebonne.

-*****-


Seven days ago

Coach Thomas waited for the last of his players to walk off the field before he headed toward the Field House, victorious in the team’s final district game. Terrebonne had blown away Hahnville to edge past them for the district crown, their first in almost three decades.

A couple of TV reporters jogged over to him, their cameras in tow. The podcast guys weren’t far behind them. The man stopped and waited for them to set up their lights, something that he’d done dozens of times before.

“Congrats on the district title, coach,” Michael Folse, the town’s resident wannabe, high-rolling philanderer, said. He ran a television station of one outside of the college girls he tried to pay with dates. “I heard Terrebonne is looking to keep you on next year. Any truth to that?”

“Don’t want to ask a few questions about the game first, Mikey?”

“It was 66-10. There isn’t much to say about it unless you want to tell the world how you dismantled one of the top teams in the state and held them to 10 points?”

The old coach shrugged. “We were the better team.”

The Cajun from the well-liked Bayou Sports podcast held up a finger. “Bo, I got a question, me. Why you bench all them boys mid-way through the season?” He looked down at his phone and mouthed some numbers to himself. “If my math right, and I ain’t no mathematician, you got a lot of players who had their snaps cut by sixty, seventy percent in these last three games. Some of ‘em altogether.”

“I played the best players.”

“Hasan Santiago is a better back than Britton Cazayoux,” the host of the podcast threw in. “Everyone in the district knows that.”

“Hasan played tonight.”

“He carried the ball six times and had one reception. He was in on two other plays.”

“You want to tell me how to coach my team? Do a little Monday morning quarterbacking?” Coach Thomas pointed up to the scoreboard. “Did we not win?”

“We all just want to know why you took a winning team and sat most of the players who contributed to said winning. It’s a risky strategy. Were there discipline problems?”

Coach Thomas laughed. “Discipline problems? Do you know what school we’re talking about? Terrebonne. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t have to hear about one of these players getting written up or suspended or sent to alternative school.”

“So, you’re saying there are discipline issues at Terrebonne?”

“What I’m saying is I’m playing the guys who I don’t have to worry about missing practice because they got locked up for selling crack to babies on Morgan Street. I’m playing the guys who don’t come tell me they can’t practice today because they’ve been up all night with some bastard child they went and made at 16. I know the guys who I put out on the field and they come from good families and they are going somewhere. They won’t throw that chance away with thug shit.”

“Most of the kids you’re playing are white.”

The coach shook his head. “I know what you’re insinuating, but I’m just telling it how it is. Don’t think you all aren’t still part of the fake news media from Trump’s time in office.”

-*****-


Four days ago

Caesar stopped walking as a pack of reporters from New Orleans descended upon him as soon as he walked out of the gates of the football field. He looked at them and raised an eyebrow before cellphones were shoved in his face to record.

“Caesar, what are your thoughts on Coach Thomas’s remarks Friday?”

He leaned down slightly, opened his mouth, cleared his throat, then stood straight.

“Are you afraid to be benched if you speak your mind on what was said?”

Caesar raised his hand for a moment then again, he leaned down slightly, opened his mouth, cleared his throat, then stood straight.

“What’s the atmosphere like in the locker room? The team can’t be happy to be characterized in such a way.”

Caesar pointed at the reporter who asked the question. He scratched his chin before leaning toward the guy’s cellphone. He opened his mouth, cleared his throat then stood straight.

Slowly, the phones started to fall away.

Caesar smiled. “Alright, we’re good here? Great! You guys have a good day, now.”

He watched as they left him and gathered around the next guy to walk out of the stadium to ask him the same questions. Caesar shook his head, hiked his duffel bag up onto his shoulder and walked toward the parking lot.

-*****-


Three days ago

“I’m not playin’ for him. Fuck that shit. I say we protest. Let him try to win with just the white boys and see how far that gets him.” Hasan stopped pacing and looked at Devin who was sitting on his sofa calmly. “Why aren’t you mad?”

Devin shrugged. “How’s that saying go? When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time or some shit?”

“That ain’t how it go.”

“However it goes, it’s not like we didn’t know who the guy was before he started coaching the team. He just got caught up and let his guard down for a minute. I’m not going to be mad at a bigot for doing or saying bigot shit.” Devin shrugged again. “He’s not going to be coaching anyway.”

Hasan swatted his hand in Devin’s direction. “That man ain’t about to quit his job just because they caught him sayin’ some slick shit. This Houma. They probably gonna put him on a statue or some shit with the rest of the like-minded crackers.”

“We don’t have statues here.”

“That ain’t the point. Thomas ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“I don’t know, man. He’s going before the superintendent tomorrow. They’re taking the decision out Mr. Izaguirre’s hands. I don’t think he’s going to be coaching Friday. Doesn’t sound like it.”

“How you even know that?”

“Sometimes, I do go home and talk to my parents, you know.”

-*****-


Two days ago

“What the hell do you mean suspended without pay?! This is a lynching and I’m not going to take it lying down!” Coach Thomas stood up from his chair, red faced and slightly sweating after a prolonged shouting match with the superintendent of schools and a select committee of school board members. “I don’t work for you. You can’t do this!”

Superintendent Trosclair shook his head as he rummaged through a stack of papers in front of him. He pulled out Coach Thomas’s contract and flipped to a page and held it up. “You do work for the school district. It says so right here. Just like every other teacher, para and coach in this parish. And I have the ultimate authority to decide what is and isn’t detrimental to the children we serve. What you said is simply unacceptable.”

“Oh, come off it. We’re not so soft that we don’t think that a bunch of football players can’t take someone saying some mean things about them.”

“They are children!” One of the school board members shouted.

“So, what are you going to do, huh? Who’s going to coach the team Friday? They’re going to lose if I’m not there. Then what are you going to tell them? That you threw away their chance at a state championship because we want to maintain the softness that has swept this country?”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take to tell the people of this parish that we will not stand for this kind of thing. Your employment will be under review until the end of the semester.”

-*****-


Tonight

“Braxton Chabert is wide open down the field and Paul Callais hits him for the looooong touchdown. Terrebonne’s defenders are down there pointing at one another trying to figure out who blew their assignment, but South Terrebonne won’t care as they’re up 26-6 here late in the fourth quarter. It just hasn’t been a good night for interim-interim coach Chase Detiveaux.”



“That’s not something that you see everyday. Ron DeRossi has failed to hit Caesar Jenkins on a comeback. I think that pretty much sums up how this game has gone for the Tigers. It’s going to be fourth down, Terrebonne. And oh boy! The crowd’s letting them hear it. C’mon, these are high school kids.”



“The clock hits zero and South Terrebonne will be taking home the trophy in this year’s Hall of Fame Game, a lone bright spot in the Gators’ 4-6 season. On the other side of the field, Terrebonne drops to 7-3 and will likely tumble from a top 10 playoff seeding into the mid-teens or lower when the LHSAA announces the brackets this Sunday.

And you know, ladies and gentlemen, I’m not surprised at all. Terrebonne has been playing with fire all season and it has come back to bite them three times now. This was a doomed experiment from the start and if I was one of those parents down there, I’d be glad that it was almost over.”

Terrebonne’s players walked off the field, heads hung as they knew they’d blown their chance at getting an easy opponent in the first round of the playoffs.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 03 Dec 2019, 16:58

Selection Sunday

Devin, Carla, Hasan, Trigga, Bart with baby mother and child, Kenyatta and a couple other guys from the team piled into Hasan and his brother’s living room to watch the LHSAA announce the matchups for the upcoming playoffs. Most of them sat in metal fold-up chairs that Hasan had “repurposed” from the store for this very purpose. Fortunately, Devin had a spot on the couch. Carla sat on his lap to avoid taking up space.

Devin watched her watching Jamie idly scoop baby food out of a jar to feed to Shawntoine, Jr. He poked her side. “It’s not nice to stare.”

She leaned back and turned her head slightly so she could whisper. “I would jump off of a fucking bridge and shoot myself on the way down if someone even joked about me being pregnant. Does she go everywhere he goes?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Bart doesn’t have a car.”

“It’s because she’s keeping tabs on him.”

“Is that why you’re here? Keeping tabs on me.”

“Yep.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say yesterday that you’re still deciding if you consider us together or not?”

Carla nodded and winked. “Playing it by ear.”

Hasan stood up and turned the TV up, an old flat screen that was barely 4K. “Alright, y’all shut the fuck up. They past all the creampuffs. They better not have us too low.”

“A nigga just want a home game. I’m not tryin’ to get bussed out to West Monroe or some shit and have to worry about getting lynched like it’s the 1950s out this bitch if we win,” Trigga said. He looked at the two girls in the room, both white. “No offense to y’all people.”

“We’re not getting a home game,” Kenyatta said. He nodded to the screen. “They’ve been matching 7-3s with top seeds and shit. We’re about to be playing East Ascension or Catholic.”

“My money’s on Southern Lab.”

“Zachary’s pretty good.”

“All them big B.R. schools are.”

“Would y’all shut the fuck up? We gonna smash whoever they give us so it don’t even matter,” Hasan said.

“Who are we trying to avoid?” Carla asked Devin.

He shrugged. “It’s the playoffs. Everyone’s good. It’s not like any of us have been here before to know what to expect.”

“Well, hope to play somewhere that you’ve never played before. That’s what I would do. Like West Ouachita. Who even knows where that is? You could probably get an interesting story from going there for a day or two.”

“It’s obviously in Ouachita Parish.”

She elbowed him in the chest. “No shit, but if I told you something was in West Terrebonne, good luck finding what I meant without GPS.”

There was an audible groan in the room as the 16 top seeds were all announced, the 16 teams that would be hosting their first playoff game. None of them were Terrebonne.

“Yo, what if they don’t even put us in this bitch? Ain’t they got some kind of formula to decide who gets in and who doesn’t?” Bart asked.

“We won district,” Devin said. “We’ll be in it.”

“It’s a lot of teams out there win district.”

“We’ll be in the playoffs, man.”

The wait was beginning to get nerve-racking. The association’s method of going top to bottom to announce the matchups did wonders to build suspense but it was tough on the teams that were waiting to hear their names announced.

“Central?! Hey, if they put Central in and ain’t put us in, I say we riot,” Kenyatta said.

“That was the 31st seed, nigga. We ain’t suppose to be that low,” Hasan said.

“I’m just saying that Central was like 6-4. They shouldn’t even be in the shit.”

Trigga shook his head. “That’s the wrong Central to be worried about not being in the playoffs. Central Lafourche trash. Central High ‘bout that action.”

“Yeah, we said all the B.R. schools are good already.”

“Y’all shut the fuck up and just watch the shit, man. Y’all worried about the wrong shit,” Hasan said. “God damn. Whining like some bitches.”

“You’d think with a kid in the room, they’d calm down on a few of those fucks and bitches,” Carla whispered to Devin.

“He’s a baby. He doesn’t understand what they are saying.”

“That’s how kids learn to talk, dumbass.”

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Devin laughed at his own joke.
-*****-

“And at number 20, we have Live Oak High School. The Eagles went 7-3 this season and will be traveling to Shreveport to play number 13 Captain Shreve.”

“That leaves three more slots before we know all 32 teams that will be competing for the opportunity to play in the Super Dome next month.”

“At number 19, we have Ponchatoula High School. The Green Wave were also 7-3 this season. They will be playing number 14 Ascension Catholic.”

“Two more now, ladies and gentlemen.”

“At number 18, we have Barbe High School. The Buccaneers were 7-2 this season. One of their games was called off because of weather. They will square off against number 15 John Ehret.”

“And finally the last team of all of our divisions who will be in the playoffs.”

“At number 17, we have Terrebonne High School. The Tigers went 7-3 this season. Their opponents will be number 16 Slidell.”
-*****-

Ron kicked Caesar’s feet off a table to get his attention, but also got a laugh when Caesar scrambled to catch his balance as his chair lurched forward under his weight.

Caesar swung a fist at Ron, but he missed. “What the fuck was that for? I’m just trying to relax and you’re up here being a dickhead for no reason.”

Ron held up his phone and shook it. “You been keeping up with the playoff selections? They just announced them.”

“I don’t care about that shit. It doesn’t matter who we’re playing. We’re going to win as long as Detiveaux figures out how to call plays between now and next Saturday,” Caesar said, propping his feet back up on the table and leaning back in the chair. “Maybe, they’ll fire him and we can have our fourth coach of the season for the playoffs.”

“Who the fuck is going to coach us? Who the fuck would to at this point?”

“Get the guy from Houma Junior High. Don’t they have undefeated seasons every year?”

“Running 13 personnel every play against 7th and 8th graders because he’s going out there with freshmen. It’s not exactly going to translate well to high school ball.”

“Sounds like you’re afraid to hand the rock off and lose some of those gaudy passing stats.”

“If my numbers go down, your numbers go down.”

Caesar raised his pointer finger. “Point for you. I’ll stick with Detiveaux for the playoffs. So, what’s the excitement about with the selections? We somehow get picked as the 32 and are going to have to play Vermilion in the first round?”

“Vermilion’s 4A bro. Zachary’s the top seed in 5A.”

“Get to the point.”

“We got Slidell away.”

Caesar grabbed his phone from the table and did a quick search for Slidell High’s football team. He swiped his phone across the screen to scroll through the pages. “They don’t have a single recruit higher than their two star quarterback who is going to... Louisiana College. Didn’t even know Louisiana College had a football team. I’m missing the point. They're shit.”

“Let me take you through it step-by-step since you’re clearly a fucking idiot. We’re playing Slidell High School this Saturday in the playoffs. We’re playing Slidell High School this Saturday in the playoffs in Slidell. Slidell is located on the north shore of Lake Pontchatrain. The girl that you’ve been chasing after for the last six months--”

“I haven’t been chasing after anyone.”

“Kaley lives on the north shore, does she not? Could be a chance for you to finally get turned down for pussy in person for a second time.”

“I didn’t get turned down the first time.”

“You didn’t fuck her therefore you got turned down. I don’t make the rules. I’m just saying you got a little opening.”

Caesar shook his head. “In this fantasy of yours, how does it work? We get on a bus at like 1 in the afternoon on Friday. Head to Slidell. Play a game. Get back on a bus. Come back to Houma. Where’s this opening?”

Ron shrugged. “Tell Detiveaux you’re riding with your dad back or something. It’s not rocket science, bro. She has a car, right? Get her to bring you back.”

“This is by far the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.” Caesar picked up his phone and started answering texts that he’d gotten in the last few minutes. “I think you might need to get checked out for CTE or something after this.”

“I’d have to be dead for them to do that, but I’m the dumb one.”

“I’ll miss you, bro.”

Ron leaned over the table and picked up his own phone. “You’re saying it’s dumb, but I bet you’re over there doing some pussy ass shit.”

“Ashley wants to know where we are,” Caesar said, changing the subject. “Her and that girl she hangs around with, Bethany? Madison? Matilda? Jessica? Uh...”

“Did she not say the girl’s fucking name in the text?”

Caesar looked down. “Good point. Megan. Yeah, I don’t know who that is. But they want to know where we are.”

“Francesca’s back in town. I’m not cheating, man.”

“Alright, I’ll just have myself a threesome then. You can sit out here and be the doting boyfriend or some shit.”

“I’m texting Kaley for you, actually. I don’t think she’s going to like you fucking all these other chicks.”

Caesar stood up to head to the kitchen. “Hardy har har. That one was hilarious man.”

As he opened the fridge, he responded to Ashley’s text to tell her that they were at his house and that they were welcome to come over.

He’d already sent a text to Kaley about them being in Slidell minutes ago. No response though since she was with her boyfriend at some family gathering.
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