War of the Roses: Redux Edition

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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 06 Jul 2021, 07:09

Turning the Page

Pierce McCoy shuffled between the rows of lockers in Terrebonne’s football accommodation with his trusty tablet in one hand and a plastic shopping bad in the other. He scanned the names on the lockers and checked the old roster that he had in his tablet.

And as he went, he plucked off the names of his first group of seniors that were weeks away from graduating high school -- continuing their football career in college or heading into some other pursuit meaning those days out on the field of Thomas B. Smith Stadium from the ages of 16 to 18 would be the pinnacle of their football lives.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a bell curve on that with this senior class. Few guys were going to lower tier schools or community colleges. It was either the big boys in the bowl subdivision or nothing.

He’d never admit it aloud, but as much as he owed his success in the past 12 months to players like Devin King – quiet leaders who led by example and did whatever was necessary to win – he did it was an asset to have guys like Caesar Jenkins – unnecessarily cocky players who had the skills to back it up… who did whatever was necessary to win.

There were more than a few ways to break an opponent’s will on the football field.

His smartwatch beeped with an alert that it was half past two. Walking back to his office, he tossed the bag onto a chair then grabbed a hat from his desk to pull on before making his way out to the field where students were beginning to file into the bleachers.

As he passed the gated entrance of the stadium, he saw a group of his now-former players walking to the student parking lot, graduation packets in hand. He joined his coaching staff on the track under the stands where a barrel sat.

He exchanged greetings with the other coaches as he waited for everyone to settle. As he looked up at the students hoping to make the cut for the next season, he found Danny sitting front and center – a far cry from the scared sophomore that he’d thrust into the starting role on a team with impossible expectations. The soon-to-be junior quarterback nodded to the coach who returned the gesture.

Stepping forward, he clapped his hands to get their attention.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Coach, that’s not a few. That’s five.”

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

“Now,” he said, picking up a state championship shirt that was on the ground. He held it up so they could see it.

“This here is the past.” He tossed the shirt into the barrel. “It doesn’t matter and as far as you’re concerned it didn’t happen. We got a lot to do in the next five months. Let’s get to work.”

-*****-

Devin dragged another suitcase out to his car, just as the sky was beginning to lighten for another day. He was surprised by the amount of stuff that he both had and was willing to take with him to move into his dorm room. He looked down into the trunk that was already packed with a couple of duffle bags and two backpacks.

Shifting the other luggage around, he tried to find a way to force that last suitcase into the trunk but no matter which configuration he attempted, it just wouldn’t fit. He tossed the suitcase on the ground and decided to take a break in hopes that a little rest would bring him enough clarity to come to a solution of how to get that into the car.

His at-the-last second enrollment had left a lot of things up in the air that he was coming to realize most college freshmen were aware of heading into their first weeks on campus – even the athletes.

He’d been put in a couple entry-level courses over the summer to help ease him into the life of a student-athlete or athlete-student depending on whose priorities you were going by. However, he wasn’t sure if the courses would progress him toward a degree or if they were just random courses to take.

Not that he’d be able to tell. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to major in. Every school that he seriously considered told him that general studies wasn’t an option as it was in the past. Perhaps something easy like history would be his calling. He could go into teaching or something once he graduated.

It was still strange to him how different his life was at that moment than it was even two years before. Nicholls, UNO and ULL seemed like the highest he would be aiming in terms of colleges when he was a sophomore. He never dreamed of the kinds of doors that playing football would open for him and the opportunities that being decent at the game would present.

He sat down on the suitcase and looked out to the quiet street that he’d grown up on. It wasn’t modest beginnings, but it was a far cry from what you would expect from the family of someone who supposedly came into generational wealth – only to mostly squander it over the next forty years.

Scratching his chin, he wondered how he would react to being paid what his grandfather was when he made it to the NFL in the ‘10s. Back in those days, some starting quarterbacks were signing second and third contracts for less than $10 million a year. Devin King, Jr. was likely closer to the $1 million a year range. If he were to get to the NFL in the ‘50s, being drafted in the first or second round would come with a signing bonus that would blow that out of the water not to speak of the salary.

In the event of that happening, it was probably a good thing that the flashy lifestyle never suited him. He hadn’t even put any thought into NIL matters and doubted that would be something that would cross his mind in his first year or two in college.

He stood up and decided to finish packing and hit the road with a long drive ahead of him. He’d need to get on the highway soon if he was hoping to beat the morning rush hour traffic.

Picking up the suitcase, he tried to force it into the trunk once more but there was nothing he could do that would get it to fit. Sighing, he set the suitcase down and opened it before upending the contents into the trunk and pressing the clothes into the nooks and crannies between the other bags.

Slamming the trunk shut, he headed back inside to leave the suitcase and his childhood home behind.

-*****-

“You know that part of moving in means that you have to actually take things with you to move, right?”

Caesar looked at Kaley, a beignet in one hand and a bag of more in his other, and turned his body so the backpack on his shoulder was facing her as they walked to the residence hall that he’d been assigned to on Tulane’s campus.

“That’s not moving,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“It doesn’t make sense to lug all kinds of shit from Houma when I can just go buy whatever I need and have it delivered here,” Caesar said. “And you didn’t say anything about it when I told you to do the same thing.”

She snatched the bag of beignets from him. “It’s hard to say something when I ask you to help me move in and instead of coming with a moving truck or any damn truck, you come with your little sports car and then take all the shit out of my car.”

“Slidell is just over the lake. You can drive back and get it and I can cancel all of the stuff that I just bought.”

“I can protest the act of you thinking moving means just buying new shit wherever you go while benefitting from you thinking moving means just buying new shit wherever you go.” She took a beignet out of the bag and handed it back. “I just figure that your love language is giving gifts and who am I to stop you from showing me that you love me?”

“My love language is giving you dick, not gifts.”

“Jesus Christ,” she said, slapping his arm.

Caesar laughed as he swiped his key card to get through the pair of doors to enter the building in front of them. The halls were quiet as most students had cleared out for the summer, leaving only a handful of people milling about.

And things were quieter as they stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor save for a custodian who was mopping the far end of the hall.

He tapped the placard that had his name on it next to the door. Unlike the other rooms, there was only one placard. “Looks like I have a room all to myself.”

“They didn’t tell you who your roommate was?”

“Nope. Maybe I’ll get lucky since I’m moving in when they’re shifting everything around and end up without one.”

“Doubt that.”

The two of them walked into the mostly spartan room with beds, desks and dressers on either side of the room, a sink and a doorway to the bathroom that the room’s occupants were to share with the room next door. It was a far cry from the lap of luxury that Caesar had grew up in, but he only shrugged and tossed his bag onto one of the beds and sat on the other.

“You’re supposed to pick one of them. Not take both,” Kaley said.

He paused mid-chew of the last beignet. “Until someone walks in here and says that they’re my roommate, I’m going to use both of these beds so I can spread out wearing them out in the middle.”

“I think you’ve gotten too used to those fancy mattresses back home because these things probably don’t have much wearing out to be done to them before they start feeling like sleeping on a prison cot.”

“Okay, then I’m going to use one to sleep on and we’ll fuck on the other one.”

She laughed. “And how are you going to decide which one is better for which?”

He reached out, grabbed the waistband of her shorts and pulled her closer to him so she was standing in between his legs. Then he unbuttoned them.

“Caesar, your fingers are covered in powdered sugar! You’ll get that shit all over my clothes,” she said, smacking him on the shoulder.

He pulled his hand away and licked his fingers clean.

“And now because you licked them they’re covered in spit.”

“Won’t be the only thing I’m licking.”

She gasped when he picked her up and flipped them both around onto the bed so he was on top of her. His hand went back to work taking off her shorts as they kissed. She was kicking them off as the ratcheting sound of a key being inserted into the door sounded through the room.

Caesar looked back expecting the person to have the wrong room and move on, but instead the door opened.

Devin paused, door partly ajar, as he noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. He had a couple of duffle bags on his shoulders and dragged a suitcase.

“Holy shit,” Kaley said, maneuvering her body so Caesar was mostly covering her bottom half.

Devin and Caesar stared at one another for a moment before Devin stepped fully into the room, walked over the empty bed and tossed Caesar’s bag on the floor and replaced it with his own.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Caesar asked, starting to sit up but Kaley stopped him to preserve some level of modesty.

“Keep that shit over on your side of the room,” Devin said plainly before leaving the room again.

Kaley scrambled to get her shorts back on. “Carla didn’t tell me he wasn’t coming here. I guess you do have a roommate, after all.”

Caesar snatched up his bag and tossed it into the corner with a bit more force than needed.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 06 Jul 2021, 07:09

Just moving that late night update to this page.
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djp73
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 06 Jul 2021, 07:37

Interesting turn of events. Will be a wild ride seeing those two together going forward. Solid updates, looking forward to the next one.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 10 Jul 2021, 22:18

:blessed: Oh, we up.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 10 Jul 2021, 22:55

Prep Work

Caesar sat on a medical table and stared at the pictures of big moments in the past of Tulane football that adorned the wall opposite him. Most of them were in the recent past, AAC championships and the return to the SEC after some 70 years. Of course, the biggest were a set of ancient broadsheets from the last century when the Green Wave went undefeated. It wasn’t the last time the team finished the year unblemished, but it was their highest finish as far as rankings went at the time. Some felt they should’ve played for the National Championship.

That wouldn’t be a high bar to overcome, he thought to himself.

Moments later, a doctor carrying a tablet walked into the room while looking at the screen in his hand. The man, sporting a Tulane graduation ring, glanced up at Caesar and nodded before he grabbed a rolling stool and sat down.

“Everything checks out,” the doctor said. He handed the tablet to Caesar.

Caesar glanced down at the notes that had been jotted down and focused on the height. “I’m 6’6”, doc.”

“It says 6’5” and a half.”

“Yeah, I see that, but I’m 6’6”.”

“We’ll leave your height with cleats on for the sports information folks to put on the website if you really think that half an inch makes a difference.” The doctor pointed to a tab on the screen. “I just need you to click that and sign so I can send that over to the athletics department to let them know that I went over all that with you and that you have a clean bill of health. Also, that you know while we didn’t find anything unusual that it is possible that you understand the risks that you’re taking playing football up to and including possible severe injuries and death.”

Caesar chuckled then clicked the tab and scrawled his name with his finger before handing the tablet back. “You should know better than anyone that I’m built like a tank.”

The man tapped a few buttons on the screen before he powered the tablet down. He stood up and walked over to the door but didn’t open it and only set his hand on the door handle.

“Your history of drug use was removed from these charts. I thought I’d let you know if someone was to ask about it in the future,” the doctor said.

“I never used drugs, doc. My body’s a temple.”

The doctor shook his head. “You submitted to a hair sample drug screening. I know what you have and haven’t done. Recently, anyway. I don’t care, to be perfectly honest with you. I’m just letting you know because if you do get injured that might be something that is looked into before they start prescribing you opioids. State prescription laws being what they are and all to make sure that we don’t go back to the heights of the opioid epidemic of the ‘20s.”

Caesar nodded slowly. “I guess I better not get injured then.”

“If you can help it,” the man said, opening the door. “You can go ahead and get dressed and head to the front desk. They’ll make sure that everything was sent correctly before you leave so you don’t have to come back and do the tests again.”



Caesar sat down at a table in the food court of Tulane’s student center with a Styrofoam box containing jambalaya and another with burritos. He’d weighed in at a lanky 208 while at the doctor for his physical so he figured he could do a bit of dirty bulking before things swung into gear to prep for the season.

He’d just popped the box open and picked up the spork to dig into the jambalaya when the other chairs around the table scrapped against the floor and three guys sat down with him. Glancing up, he immediately recognized them from his one visit to Tulane during his recruiting process.

Offering his fist to each of them, they each gave him a fist bump.

“I heard you touched down,” Darren Reyes, Tulane’s starting quarterback for the last couple of years, said. A native of the other LA, he didn’t hide his West Coast ways and accent and couldn’t if he wanted to.

“Yeah, a couple days ago,” Caesar said, as he mixed the sausage and chicken into the dirty rice in the box.

Tyrone Frazier, Darren’s partner-in-crime in the backfield, reached for the second box and popped it open to look inside of it.

“How the fuck you just gonna breathe all on that man food?” Junie Greer, a receiver that a lot of pundits thought was poised for a breakout season in his third year with the program, laughed.

“I’m just seeing if the nigga eating right,” Tyrone said as he closed the box. He gestured to it while shoving it back toward the middle of the table. “I wouldn’t eat those though.”

Caesar looked up. “Why not?”

“They got roaches back there.”

“It’s a fucking food court. If they got roaches there, then they got roaches in this whole motherfucker,” Darren said, laughing. “Just say you want the burritos and go, bruh.”

“Look, Superior ain’t send me that money for that shoutout I posted for them yet so I gotta do what I gotta do to eat,” Tyrone said with his Houston twang.

Caesar reached over and opened the box, turning it to Tyrone. “Just pay me back when Superior sends you that money.”

“Ain’t you rich?” Junie asked.

“Principles.”

Tyrone rubbed his hands together as he grabbed the box of burritos. “Say less. Drinks on me for your first trip to Bourbon with us. I’ll even let my girl Butterscotch give you a lap dance or two on the house for being a real one.”

“Excuse me?” Caesar asked, confused. “Butterscotch?”

“Yeah, man. Butterscotch.”

“A stripper he blows all his money on even though she about 57,” Darren said, laughing.

“Older the berry, sweeter the juice,” Tyrone said as he dug into the burritos.

Darren shook his head.

“It’s blacker the berry, sweeter the juice, dumbass,” Junie said. He turned to Caesar. “I heard you like to party, but you might’ve been spooked because what people say about college being hard and shit. You can ease into it.”

“Spooked about what? Classes?” Caesar asked. He waved his hand dismissively at the thought. “Y’all are the ones that are going to have to keep up.”

“Fucking right!” Darren slapped Caesar on the shoulder.

-*****-

“God damn – Now, we have to start all over.”

Devin grew confused as he dropped his hand holding a helmet to his side. He watched as the photographer walked over to a laptop and started deleting all of the pictures he’d just spent the last ten minutes taking. It was the fourth time he’d done so and it wasn’t helping matters that Devin had no idea what he was doing wrong.

Huffing out a deep breath, the photographer stomped over to Devin and grabbed the helmet. He held it up in front him with the Green Wave logo facing outward. “This is how you need to hold it. Make sure it’s straight. Make sure you have it straight up and down. And make sure you don’t smile. Look angry.”

“Well,” Devin said, leaning forward so he could look at the helmet from the other side. “You’re not even holding it straight. It’s not easy to hold this pose for that long.”

“It’s not rocket science.” He gave Devin the helmet back. “You’re the only one who has been having this much trouble with just holding a helmet up. And we still have five more sets to go after this one!”

Devin shrugged. “I didn’t sign up to be a model.”

Nonetheless, he held the helmet up as instructed and tried to remain as still as possible as the photographer snapped pictures from different angles that appeared on the laptop behind him.

He managed to keep the helmet up and stationary for what felt like an eternity before it started to slip. Once the photographer’s shot was loss, he dropped his hands and groaned dramatically.

“Are you on the spectrum? You have to be on the spectrum? I’ve been doing this shit all day and I just want to go home,” he said, his voice starting to sound a little whiny.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. Can’t you just use one of the ones that you already took?” Devin asked.

“Have I told you how to play football?”

“No?”

“Then don’t tell me how to do my damn job.”

A young woman wearing a Tulane polo and carrying a box of tablets stepped out of an office and looked at the photographer then at Devin and back to the photographer.

“Maybe instead of trying to make all of the promotional material look the same, you should think about the player, Jacques,” she said with a heavy accent.

Jacques, the photographer, stepped back and gestured toward Devin. “You tell him how to pose then since everyone knows how to do my job better than I do. It’s not like I do this hundreds of times every year or anything.”

“You don’t have to get so defensive. It was constructive criticism.”

“Be my guest, Sol.”

She sighed and set the box down before taking a step toward Devin, stopping short. “Do you mind?”

Devin shook his head.

She took the helmet from him. Standing back, she rubbed her chin before grabbing Devin by the waist and turned his body slightly to an angle, lifted his right arm and told him to point. Devin had to look up at the ceiling when she pushed the inside of his thigh to get him to open his stance a bit. It might have been a professional setting but the surprise of an attractive woman abruptly grabbing at his legs threw him all the same.

She stepped back. “Okay, Jacques. Do your thing. You’ll just need this pose for him.”

“Thanks, your majesty.”

As Jacques took the photos for the umpteenth time, she stood and watched until he was finished. Devin felt more unnerved that round with a bigger crowd, but when Jacques stopped clicking the button on the camera and waved him off, he was happy to be done.

Devin took the helmet back. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She smiled and picked up the box, starting to walk away.

He jogged to catch up with her. “You seem a little young to work here.”

“Internship. I’m in marketing.”

“Here?” he asked, gesturing around them.

“Obviously,” she said, laughing. “You know you’re going to have to get used to all of the promotional stuff. Schools are a lot more in your face with that since the ‘20s. They don’t feel as bad about using your face to sell tickets when you can use your face to make money.”

He nodded slowly. “I figured I’d at least have to be here for a year or two before they started putting my face on billboards.”

“The high dollar donors like to have collateral with all of the top recruits on it. It’s a way for them to see that spreading their money between the academic side of the house and the athletic side of the house is paying off.”

“I guess I’ll have to make sure that you’re around every time I have to do something like that, so I don’t piss off anyone with deep pockets.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything in response as she pressed the call button for an elevator.

“I heard him say it,” Devin said, pointing back the way they’d come, “But just to make sure, your name’s Sol, right?”

“Yes, Devin,” she said, winking at him as the elevator doors opened and she stepped on it. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

He nodded and gave a little wave as the elevator doors slid shut. Scratching his head, he blinked a few times. It dawned on him that it would probably be a good time to head back to his dorm room and give Carla a call to remind himself of that loving girlfriend that he had. Just as a reminder of his current relationship status, he told himself.

Sighing, he turned around and realized that he had no idea how to find his way back to the locker room from this side of the athletic facilities and Jacques was probably not looking forward to speaking to him again anytime soon.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 11 Jul 2021, 14:08

Devinnnn, I see the vibes nigga :obama:
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djp73
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 11 Jul 2021, 16:41

Strong foreshadowing
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 14 Jul 2021, 21:23

Here to Play School

“You’re going to have to pick something before you leave here today so we don’t start scheduling you in courses that you won’t need a year from now.”

Devin looked at the computer screen that was facing him and then back at the man sitting on the opposite side of the desk. A bespectacled man with more degrees and honors on his wall than seemed humanly possible, it was strange that Dr. Steven Klaus, a prestigious academic, had allowed himself to be roped into an academic advisor role for the Green Wave football team.

Perhaps he’d gotten a nice bonus for the additional duties.

“What’s wrong with interdisciplinary studies?” Devin asked, nodding to the screen.

“We stopped allowing athletes to major in that in the ‘40s when Jean Bienvenue was the athletic director. Didn’t want any non-pro-turning players to leave here and say they didn’t get an education because they majored in a non-major.”

“I see.”

Devin scanned the list and scratched the side of his face as he read through the list of majors for what felt like the millionth time. He’d done it multiple times when he first signed his letter of intent and it had become a pastime of his whenever he ran out of things to do in the quad to spend as little time as possible in his dorm room – given his roommate.

“Dance and theater are popular choices for a lot of football players. Also, any of the cultural studies majors,” Dr. Klaus said, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes before perching them back on his nose. “And obviously communications and marketing.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be dancing anywhere or acting anytime soon.” Devin ran his finger down the list. “Real estate?”

“Is that a question?”

“No, that’s what I’m going with, I think,” Devin said, leaning back in the chair. “I mean, I can change this later if I decide I don’t want to actually major in whatever I pick, right?”

Dr. Klaus nodded slowly as his fingers started to move across the keyboard. “Sure, you can. If you take any major-related coursework, which you will, it’d just be useless and it’d likely set you back a semester or two but I guess if you’re planning on going to the NFL then it doesn’t really matter if you don’t graduate on time.”

“I guess I better make sure that I really want to do this quickly then before I get in too deep then.”

“That’s correct. Just make sure that you don’t drop below 12 hours if you go dropping courses. We give all athletes 15 in case they want to dump a class for whatever reason.”

“Gotcha. Don’t drop more than one course.”

The man rapped his thumb on the enter key twice and looked at Devin. “Alright, everything has been updated for you. They’ll send you an email, a text and a notification on the app when your books are ready to be downloaded.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Thanks.”

Dr. Klaus nodded in return as Devin stood up and left the office. Other student-athletes, mostly late enrolling football players, lined up between a set of stanchions waiting to go through the same process that Devin had just done.

He would never admit it to his parents, but he’d almost forgotten that he was now expected to be mostly independent when it came to his academic decisions. Less so than the average college student, but independent nonetheless.

A ding from his phone had him looking down to take it out of his pocket. His books were already ready.

“Hey, what’s up, man?”

Devin looked up to where Christian Vaughn, the team’s number one corner, was standing across from him. Christian didn’t have the same aura as the other guys who’d started heading to Tulane when the school had dumped more resources into athletics after a few years getting knocked around in the SEC.

You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting that he was the fifth overall corner in the class when he committed out of Chicago.

Devin jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Just getting all the stuff sorted with my major, but I’m sure you know how that goes.”

Christian laughed. “Yeah, man. It was easy for me, though, because I already had 120 credits by the time I got here.”

“Do what now?”

“AP courses, dual enrollment, all that good stuff. I’m actually headed to start everything rolling on my Master’s for the year.”

Devin nodded, suddenly feeling inadequate. He’d heard that people on the team called him Prez and El Presidente but he didn’t know if that was just because he was from the Southside of Chicago like the last president who looked like Christian who was from the Southside of Chicago.

“Aren’t you on draft boards going in the first round next spring?”

Christian shrugged. “The NFL isn’t going anywhere any more than I am. I could declare and finish my Master’s in the offseason, but then going to the league already delays the Ph.D so why delay both of them, you know what I’m saying?”

“I don’t. You sure you were meant to play football? What are you even trying to get a Ph.D in?”

“Public health, bro. It’s been damn near 100 years since the Civil Rights Act and they still have our people living like it’s 1850 and they need not worry about going to the doctor so long as they’re ready to work the fat off their souls.”

“A lot of people have been saying that same thing about college football for decades.”

“You have a point, but I got a scholarship to a top university, I get a little money through a few brand deals and I’ll be leaving here with no debt after getting an advanced degree. And sure, I might even play in the NFL if they don’t knock me for being too smart.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t being smart considered a good thing in football?”

Christian laughed and slapped Devin on the shoulder as he started to make his way down the hall. “For quarterbacks, bro. The rest of us are just supposed to bash our brains in until they cut us or CTE starts to take over and we retire. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, man.”

Devin sighed to himself and wondered if he should go back to Dr. Klaus’ office and change his major to something more worthwhile than real estate. It was a fleeting thought as he was nowhere near a stellar student and he recognized and acknowledged that fact.

Something’s better than nothing, he told himself.

-*****-

Kaley and Caesar sat on Kaley’s bed in her dorm room in silence save for the sound of crinkling bags of food as they passed each other takeout bowls in wordless, almost choreographed movements. After swapping a few items that they didn’t like with the other, they finally picked up forks and started to eat.

He looked at the opposite wall and noticed that it was slowly beginning to get decorated with faux-classy paintings and cluttered with designer bags that looked fake or second hand – not that there was much of a difference between the two.

On the nightstand, his phone vibrated. Kaley picked it up and held it out to him.

“What is that?” he asked.

“I don’t want to look at your phone. I know the kind of shit random girls send you. I’m not bothered by the sight of vaginas considering I have one, but I’d rather not see someone else’s on my boyfriend’s phone.”

He held up his fork. “I’m eating. Can you just look and see what it is? I don’t have message previews enabled anyway. That shit clutters the screen.”

She sighed, glanced down at the phone then tossed it on the bed. “It’s just a notification that your books are ready for you to download. I didn’t even know that you’d decided on a major yet.”

“Yeah, I always knew I was going to major in engineering, wherever I went,” he said through a mouth full of food. “I swear that I’ve told you that before.”

“Engineering?” she asked, setting down the fork in her hand. “You never told me anything about college except that you were going to play college football for a few years before going to the NFL. I assumed that you were going to major in basket weaving or something.”

“You know what they say about assumptions.”

She smacked him in the chest. “That they make you an ass for letting people believe them. You literally never talk about anything that isn’t related to football in some way.”

“I talk about plenty that isn’t related to football. Thank you.”

“Sex isn’t a conversation topic.”

“Well, excuse me that you assumed that I was dumb and that I’d major in, and I quote, basket weaving. I’ll have you know that I held down a solid 3.62 GPA through high school.”

“How much of that was because you had girls who wanted to fuck you doing your work for you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re tip-toeing into being insulting, right?”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m just surprised that you would choose engineering as a major when you don’t even plan to finish school. There’s no way that you’re going to have the time to finish your degree early is there?”

“Just because I have every intention of saying adios to college as soon as we win the national championship in three years doesn’t mean that I have to major in some stereotypical field like communications or kiniesology. I do want class to be somewhat interesting if I have to pretend to play school while I am here.”

“Play school?”

“Yes, play school.” He leaned over and reached into the bags on the floor before retrieving a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I think you’re just upset that you’re not going to look like the genius in our little power couple here if I’ve got ‘engineering’ on my player profile.”

“Please. Not only am I not worried about that in slightest but I doubt anyone has ever wondered ‘I wonder what that guy majors in’ while you’re running to the endzone.”

“Sounds like salt to me. Don’t worry, you still bring a bit to the attractiveness value of this relationship.”

“A bit, huh? I can definitely take my bit and find someone else to appreciate it if you think that you can find someone else to balance out that muscle-bound egghead thing you have going on.”

“What’s that say about you if you’re into this muscle-bound egghead thing?”

She tossed the empty food container on her lap into a paper bag on the floor and stood up, walking over to her dresser. “That I’m willing to give the less fortunate among us a chance if they have a decent enough personality.”

The door cracked open, and a brunette poked her head in with her hand in front of her eyes as best she could while holding a significant amount of shopping bags.

“Am I good to come in?” she said.

Kaley laughed. “Yeah, we’re both decent.”

The girl threw the bags down and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her. “I heard voices and didn’t want to just barge in.”

Caesar leaned forward a bit to look around Kaley and get a good look at who’d just walked in. Getting a better view of her other side when she bent over to dig through one of the bags, he shrugged then sat back against the wall.

“Gia, the rude asshole over there is my boyfriend, Caesar,” Kaley said, gesturing toward Caesar while she dug through a drawer. “Caesar, this is my roommate, Gia.”

Gia stood up, tucking a shoebox under her arm and walked over to Caesar, holding her hand out for him to shake.

Caesar nodded to the shoebox before taking her hand. “Louboutin’s, huh? I always thought the So Kates looked like a broken ankle waiting to happen.”

“Damn, girl,” Gia said to Kaley, but kept looking at Caesar. “A good looking fella who knows designer shoes? No wonder you have all that fancy stuff in your closet over there.”

Kaley looked back just as Gia stepped over to her side of the room. “You’re the one who comes back with new stuff everytime you leave. I know how to shoot and can get a gun if I have to worry about any weird internet stalkers showing up here, you know?”

Gia laughed as she set the shoebox down on the bed and started digging through another bag. “They’re just gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Yeah, gifts.” She pulled a dress out of a bag and held it up to her body. “What do you think?”

“Not my style,” Kaley said, shrugging.

“It could be!” She turned to Caesar. “Caesar, I need a man’s opinion. What do you think?”

Caesar leaned over to grab a cup from the nightstand and brought it up to his lips, not needing to look over to know Kaley was staring at him. He gave Gia a thumbs up.

Gia winked at Kaley. “See? I’ll get you one!”
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 16 Jul 2021, 12:51

Caesar gonna fuck the hell out of Gia huh...
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Caesar
Posts: 5844
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 29 Jul 2021, 17:38

Harder than It Looks

It was that time of year again – the time when college football programs restarted their workout programs to prepare for the summer to prepare for the fall. The last few straggling freshmen arrived on the campus to be integrated into the team and the hype would start to build once more with dreams of playoff spots and conference championships.

The Tulane Green Wave were no different.

Though the athletic facilities bustled with life, from the weight rooms to the film rooms and everything in between, there was an extra bit of energy behind the school’s highest-ranked recruiting class in the history of every recruiting service coming in.

Games were won and loss on the field, but that didn’t change that the game of public opinion hinged on headlines long before anyone strapped on a helmet.

All eyes would be on Tulane in 2052, and the work to make sure that they didn’t fail to meet expectations began on a random day in May when the players were rounded up by strength and conditioning staff to get back to work.

In a po-boy spot somewhere in New Orleans, a small group one of the few Tulane booster groups huddled around a table and talked shop. A recording of a podcast played on a TV screen above them, streamed in from the latest such service.

“We got a few bad games to start the season. ULM and two away games ain’t going to get us ready for the conference,” a man with a heavy Y’at accent and graying hair said. He sipped some sweet tea afterwards.

Setting down his shrimp po-boy, another man leaned forward. “You worried about the wrong end of the schedule. Three of the last four games are on the road. We could be fighting for a bowl game heading into the Battle for the Flag.”

The first man tapped the man next to him on the arm. “I know you don’t agree with that foolishness. The last thing we need to be worried about is whether or not we’re going to have more than 6 wins by the last week of the season.”

“All it takes is an injury and that could be the case. Reyes goes down and we’re betting our season on a fifth-year senior who has never had a meaningful snap in college and a guy who looks like he’d be better off playing badminton than football.”

“We got playmakers all over the field now. Mikey and Willie might not be as good as Darren but all they have to do is throw it in the direction of that big Jenkins boy and he’s going to go up and get it.”

“Do we really think a freshman is going to have that much impact on this offense? If I was Shurman, I wouldn’t even start him over Dallas, Conrad and whoever he picks out of the rest who are already there. Let him learn the playbook first.”

The man with the shrimp po-boy stopped mid-bite. “Have you seen that kid? If I was the New Orleans Saints, I’d be stockpiling picks now to try to trade up to take him first in a few years. That boy has hall of fame talent.”

“But a rich daddy and you know they never have the work ethic.”

“I think we’ll be alright. He’s focused”

-*****-



Caesar sat at his desk, throwing a small foam football up at the ceiling. A laptop sat open on the desk but had gone into hibernate mode long ago as he tried to do the research assignment for some general education history course he’d been dropped into. There was only so much reading about the 2019-2022 COVID-19 pandemic that he could do before his eyes started to glaze over.

“Can you fucking stop?” Devin asked from the opposite side of the room where he also sat at his desk. “That shit is annoying.”

Caesar looked over his shoulder and caught the ball before throwing it at the wall instead to shorten the time between thumps against the dry wall.

“I’m literally rooming with a child,” Devin said, closing his laptop and shoving it into his backpack.

Without another word, Devin slung the bag over his shoulder and left the room to find some peace and quiet.

Caesar sighed and tossed the ball onto the desk, stood up and stretched. He walked to the middle of the room and examined both sides. There was a clear delineation between Devin’s side which, by Caesar’s standards was filthy, and his own which was mostly spotless save for some haphazardly placed odds and ends.

Grabbing his phone, he fired off a text to his plug back in Houma to ask him to drive to New Orleans and bring him some things to buy.

The answer was a quick “no.”

’So tell me who to text up here.’ He sent back.

He was sent the contact information for someone named Dante.

’Sounds like the name of a cop. Caesar sent.

’Life’s full of risks. Or you can do like everyone else and just smoke weed that you bought from some nice white girl from Portland who moved to NOLA to be free.’

Caesar cursed to him, but walked over to his shoes to shove his feet into them all the same before grabbing his keys and leaving the room.



Caesar pulled up to a house in the Bywater neighborhood of the city. A colonial style home that wouldn’t have looked out of place when people with names like Bienville, Iberville and Pontchartrain were deciding which way to winds blew in New Orleans. The yard was nicely manicured and while it could’ve used a touch of paint, it wasn’t like the spots in Houma that he would go to get his fix.

An SUV with soccer mom stickers on the back bumper was parked in the driveway and had Caesar looking at his phone to make sure that he’d put the right address into the GPS.

Walking up the sidewalk to the stairs up to the porch, he felt as if someone was watching him and kept fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. But he walked to the door and knocked on it all the same.

“Whatever you selling, we don’t want it,” a voice said through the doorbell camera.

He stepped back and leaned down in front of the doorbell. “I’m not selling anything. Uh, Trey—Trey Melancon, Trey gave me this address? I don’t think I have the right house.”

There was no answer, but he could hear heavy footsteps on the old wood instead. Moments later, a man almost Caesar’s height – and almost his build – opened the door wearing a black wife beater and sweatpants and carrying a pink comb.

“What’s Trey’s real name?” he asked Caesar.

Caesar shrugged. “I don’t know. I always thought Trey was his real name. I’ve never called him anything else.”

The man eyed Caesar with a cautious stare for a few moments before stepping away from the door and waving Caesar inside before leading him deeper into the house.

If the outside of it threw Caesar off, the inside really made him think he had the wrong address. Family pictures adorned the walls and he caught a glimpse of a printed out drawing that looked more like a mess of squiggly lines than any discernable figure.

“You’re Dante, right?” Caesar asked.

“That’s the name my mama gave me.”

The two of them walked into the living room where a little girl was sitting on the floor watching cartoons on a tablet. Dante sat on the sofa behind her and started to comb the curls on top of her head.

“Where you from? What high school you went to?” Dante asked.

“I’m from Houma. I--”

“Oh. I thought you were from here. Don’t worry about that second question. I don’t know anything about how y’all live down there in the boonies.” He apologized to the girl when the comb got stuck in her hair. “You got any kids?”

“Man, I’m not here for all that s--”

“Whoa, man. C’mon.” Dante gestured to the child. “Excuse me for trying to get to know the random people knocking on my door.”

“I’m not a random person.”

“I don’t know you so you are a random person,” Dante said. He handed the comb to the girl. “Go tell mama that we’re about to start whipping up some lunch.”

The little girl sprung up to her feet. “Are we having mirliton?!”

“Go ask your mama if that’s what she wants.”

“Okay!” She ran to the back of the house.

Dante got up and walked over to the fireplace. “I got two rules. You never told me your name?”

“Caesar,” Caesar said.

“Alright, Caesar. I got two rules. Don’t just be showing up at my house all hours of the night and day. You text me first before you show up. You see I got family and you don’t need to be talking to anyone up in here but me.”

Caesar shrugged. “Okay. I’m not an addict. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dante grabbed a brick – or what looked like a brick – and pulled it out of the mantle of the fireplace. He grabbed a bag out of hole cut into the wall. “The second rule is that you don’t know me and mine. So if you see us in public, you ignore us.”

“I don’t have kids. I don’t think you’ll be seeing me at the daycare, man.”

Dante pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped up an app with a QR code for Caesar to scan to pay him. “You in college, Caesar? You look about that age.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. Always good to better yourself.”

Caesar nodded as he scanned the code and sent Dante a couple hundred dollars before being handed a bag of pills from the larger bag.

-*****-



Devin said his backpack down on a bench in one of the campus’s greenspaces. He rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. He’d heard all the horror stories about college roommates but he was inclined to find the person who thought it was a good idea to put him in a room with Caesar when there were plenty of open rooms around the campus during the summer.

He dreaded the thought of having to spend the entire year in there. Perhaps he could convince Kaley to let Caesar move into her room permanently. Hell, he’d pay if he could find some good NIL deals to make the money worth her while.

Rubbing at his temple, he reached for his laptop and cracked it open to try to finish the work that was, surprisingly, already starting to pile up. He wasn’t sure why he thought they were going to truly ease him into life on a college campus but if this was their idea of doing that then he had some thoughts he was willing to share with them on the matter.

His phone chirped with a new text in his pocket. He was greeted with a picture of Carla and Gina out on a boat off of what looked like an ever-diminishing Grand Isle. Or the bar of sand formerly known as Grand Isle as some folks called it.

He hit the button for a video call and Carla picked up almost instantly.

“Whose boat is that?” Devin asked.

She lowered a beer bottle from her lips and winked. “Don’t tell me you’re going get all jealous on me, Devin.”

“I just wanted to know so I could let the Coast Guard know where to go first to notify folks if y’all got lost in the Gulf.”

“So dramatic. It’s for some guy Gina met if you must know. I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t get kidnapped and tortured to death.”

Devin laughed. “If you’re the person that’s supposed to make sure of that, then both of you might as well just go ahead and jump into the Gulf right now because I don’t think you’re going to survive if it comes down to a fight.”

“Ye of little faith. How’s being a college football star treating you?” She got up from where she was sitting and moved to the opposite side of the boat. In the background, Devin could see Gina chatting up some guy. There was a second guy on the boat, but his arms crossed over his chest and his face buried in his phone let Devin know that he wasn’t getting any play from Carla.

“I’ve been here for a few weeks. I doubt anyone thinks I’m a star or anything remotely close to being a star.”

“Here I was thinking that you were talking to your loving girlfriend so little because you were up in New Orleans plotting your path to the NFL.”

Devin shook his head. “You do know that you are completely capable of getting in your car and driving to New Orleans, right? A city that’s only forty-five minutes to an hour away from where you live. Oh, and one that you’ll be going to college yourself in come August.”

“Devin, need I remind you that your roommate is Caesar? There are a lot of things that I’m willing to do, but potentially having to spend time around him or popping in on my cousin getting railed by him are not on that list.”

“Just kill him in his sleep!” Gina shouted from off the screen. “Or I’ll do it for a small fee and the gratitude of everyone in the world!”

“Is she drunk?” Devin asked.

“To suggest murdering Caesar? You think she has to be drunk for that?”

“Fair point. Anyway, I figure in a few months he’ll move into some swanky off campus apartment and then I’ll only have to see him half the time instead of all the damn time.”

Carla shrugged. “Maybe he will. But the point stands that I’m not coming anywhere near your dorm room as long as that’s your roommate. You’ll just have to find a way to make some time to drive down to Houma to see me.”

“Again. New Orleans is forty-five minutes away.”

“Not my problem, sir. I’m going to need you make some effort. What is it that you sportsball people always say? Hard work something something win something?”

“That made absolutely no sense.”

“Also, not my problem. I’m going to get back to working on my tan. Call me later tonight. I might come up with a way to have you doing 90 down 90,” she said with a wink before hanging up.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Devin leaned back against the bench and scanned the perfectly manicured grass, trees and bushes of the quad he was sitting in. A few joggers ran along the sidewalks on the far side, but he was sure these areas of the campus would be teeming with people come the fall.

It still felt strange to see these green spaces in a city that was squeezed between a river and a lake and seemingly completely covered with concrete. And that was even with the movement to bring nature back into cities during the 30s and 40s as the fight against global warming ramped up.

Cracking open the lid of his laptop, he signed back in and pulled up the documents he was working on. Looking at what was on the screen, he again felt as if someone had lied to him along the way about being a collegiate student-athlete and just how hard classes were supposed to be.
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