Plan B
Devin stared into the glass of water in his hand as he pretended to listen to Hasan. A couple weeks of being back in the fray of recruiting was harder than he’d expected as he was in no position to jump at the offers from college football’s big boys. It didn’t help matters that National Signing Day was in a week and the pool of available scholarships would rapidly diminish.
“Bruh, why you over there lookin’ like your dog died or somethin’? You ain’t see the sign on the door? This a no sniffle zone,” Hasan said as he put his laptop on the floor before getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen.
“What sign?”
“There ain’t no actual fucking sign, nigga. What I’m sayin’ is I know you ain’t carry your ass all the way up here to Baton Rouge to mope around. I already told you what do with ya issue. Just enroll here and let them show ya they tough.”
Devin sighed and placed the glass down, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “I don’t think it’s that easy. You don’t think they put it out there that I agreed to all that and that I’m willing to back out of a signed letter of intent? I should’ve just went ahead and stuck with them instead of making that split second decision. It’s all a clusterfuck now.”
Hasan dropped a griddle onto the stove and clicked on the burner. He then plopped a dollop of butter on the pan. “What you should’ve did was talk out your decision with other people like normal motherfuckas do. Then you probably wouldn’t be where ya at now.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Take it from me. Call they bluff. You see me and Erik got an extra room back there and shit been fire livin’ up here this last month. We ain’t gotta pay for nothin’. I ain’t had this much stuff in my kitchen since... fuck since ever. Just hop in your car, drive to campus and tell ‘em you comin’ here in the fall to win some ‘chips.”
“I don’t even know if LSU is considering themselves offering me any more at this point. Everyone’s probably waiting to see what’s left out there before they make any more decisions about who they’re giving scholarships to.”
“You soundin’ more and more like a bitch each second.”
Hasan grabbed two slices of bread and slapped them on the griddle, covering them with slices of cheese before adding two more slices of bread. He pressed the sandwiches down with his hand, sucking in air through his teeth as he did.
“All that talk of not having to pay for anything and you don’t have a spatula for the cheap [a..] grilled cheese sandwiches you’re about to eat?” Devin asked.
“I still don’t know how to cook, bruh. What you expect me to do?”
“Ask for a cookbook?”
The sound of a key being inserted into the lock preceded Erik opening the door and entering the apartment. He looked at Devin and nodded his head before stepping out of the way for a girl who was walking behind him.
“Which one is your room?” the girl asked Erik, pointing toward the back of the apartment.
“Straight to the back,” he said, closing the door behind them and locking it.
Hasan watched the girl as she disappeared down the hall and swung around, speaking in hushed tones. “You ain’t tell her bring a friend?”
“Nope. You got that,” Erik said. He walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge that was stocked like a cooler in a grocery store, and pulled out two bottles of water. “What brings you to Baton Rouge, Devin? I heard you told TCU to fuck off.”
“I wouldn’t say those are the words that I used,” Devin said.
“You might as well have. They’re going to have a problem with you in DFW for a good little while after that one. I hope you didn’t want to play for the Cowboys when you made the leap to the league.”
“Can’t be worried about playing in the NFL when I’m not even sure if I’m going to be playing college football.”
Hasan hissed as he flipped his grilled cheese sandwiches with his fingers then he turned to Erik. “I’ve been tryin’ to tell that boy to just come here, but he think that they gonna cause issues if he does that. TCU ain’t worried about what LSU doin’, right?”
Erik shrugged. “If I was them, I’d be worried about losing a possible in with Louisiana guys over the next few years because one of them decided to swap purple and gray for purple and gold. It’s just not a good look.”
“You not helpin’, nigga.”
“Just being honest.”
“So, what would you do if it were you, Erik?” Devin asked. “Go to some mid-major and then transfer in a year? Go to some lower tier power 5 school?”
“I wouldn’t have carried my ass to TCU in the first place. But if I were in your shoes, I’d go somewhere that wanted me to come to their school the entire time. No one who backed off when it looked like they weren’t going to get you and no one who is afraid to trying to get your signature now.”
Hasan picked up the griddle and awkwardly tried to poke the sandwiches off it and onto a plate. Erik sighed and opened a drawer, pulling out a spatula and dropping it on the counter next to Hasan.
“How long that shit been in there?” Hasan asked as he picked it up, flipping the sandwiches onto the plate.
“Since we moved in here. That girl from that sorority brought it over here, remember?”
Hasan shook his head. “Was she bad? If not, that’s why I don’t remember.”
Erik sighed again. “Devin, good luck with what you figure out. I just hope you aren’t taking this fool’s advice. You see that he doesn’t even have enough sense to
look for a spatula before he starts touching hot pans with his fingers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Devin said.
Erik took a moment to shake his head at Hasan again before heading to his room, shutting the door behind him.
“LSU, nigga,” Hasan said as he bit into one of the sandwiches.
-*****-
“Shouldn’t you be running suicides or something to stay in shape during the offseason?”
Caesar opened his eyes to find Ron standing over him. Rubbing his face with the back of his hand, Caesar threw his legs out of the hammock that he’d set up in a corner of the backyard in an attempt to carve out a bit of a leisure spot in the usually active setting of Casa Jenkins.
“Shouldn’t you be in somebody’s sociology 101 class or did they let you drop that for winning them a national championship?” Caesar asked.
Ron laughed. “Still have a few more days before the semester starts, mom. And I’m not and will not be enrolled in any sociology courses. I just came down to pay the old stomping grounds a visit now that everything has settled down.”
“Settled down? You just won the fucking natty. Nothing should be ‘settled down.’ If I were you, I’d be swimming in fucking pussy from sun up to sun down to sun up. And if you were you, that’s what’s you better be fucking doing.”
“How would your girlfriend feel about you talking about, and I’m just quoting here, ‘swimming in fucking pussy’?”
Caesar waved off Ron’s comment and stood up from the hammock. “We’re talking about what
you should be doing.”
“You do know realize that shit’s going to start to get old, right? Science has come a long way, but it’s still not fun wondering if the last woman you put your dick in is going to burn you. Is the athlete fast life really better than a good paying job and coming home to your family every night?”
“Ron,” Caesar said. “What kind of goofy ass shit are you saying right now? It’s been like a month since you won the biggest game in college football and you’re standing in front of me saying that being a punk ass family man would be better?”
“I’m ser—”
“Hold on, hold on.” Caesar cleared his throat and faked like he was tightening a tie around his neck. He turned to the side, talking to the air. “Honey, I’m going to be home around six after being stuck in traffic for an hour and a half on I-10. I’ll be pissed off because my boss ate the lunch I made so don’t mind that. Can you make sure that your lover is gone before I get home this time? And can you ask him not to drink my Perrier again? I need that for when I want to swallow a bottle of pills and end it all. Thanks, babe. Mwah.”
Ron shook his head. “You done?”
“Yeah, for now. I’ll save the second act for when the family man walks in on his wife with cock in every hole and two in her hands for next time before he deepthroats a pistol and blows his brains out on the wall while she gets her brains blown out on the bed.”
“The point I was trying to make was that when is your career going to be over best case? 35? More likely to be 32 or 33? That doesn’t sound appealing anymore. You have to live another 60 years doing nothing or maybe you’re a commentator or some bullshit.”
Caesar pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiping his finger across the screen and tapping a few buttons. He held it up to show a website showing his father’s career earnings. “I’ll take retiring at 35 with a few hundred million in my pocket over working for eighty-five grand a year for the next 50 years until I can retire and act like I enjoy going to Bogue Chitto as a vacation until I die.”
Ron shook his head and laughed. “You don’t even know where you’re fucking going to college and you’re talking about making quarterback money in the NFL.”
“Ah, ah, ah. I do know where I’m going to college.”
“Where then? And why haven’t you announced it?”
“Nah, I ain’t telling you shit because you’re back here saying stupid shit. This isn’t the Ron DeRossi that I know and love, buddy. Unless you want to go get fucked up for old times’ sake and stop yourself from slowly turning into a pussy.”
“I’m just getting older, bro. Changing priorities and what not.”
Caesar held up his hands. “Are we going to go get drunk and have a good time or are you going to keep lecturing me on how I should throw away the plan
both of us have had since we were pee-wees for a desk job?”
“Where are you fucking going to college, man?” Ron asked, laughing before throwing his arm around Caesar’s shoulders and dragging him along as he headed for the gate. “You know Devin got out of his LOI. Now, you can come to TCU without worrying about that goofy ass shit between your families.”
Caesar shoved Ron away as he opened the gate. “If TCU has you coming back here acting like this, I’m not even stepping foot in fucking Texas. They’re brain-washing y’all out there so you stay all four years and shit. And I just told you I already know where I’m going.”
“Give me your phone. I’m going to call Kaley and ask her.”
“I assume that NIL money has started hitting your accounts, so drinks are on you.”
“Didn’t you just show me that your dad made something like six hundred million bucks just from playing football?”
Caesar opened the passenger side door of Ron’s car, pausing before he got in. “No hablo ingles. Lo siento, senor. Cerveza, por favor.”
“This motherfucker. I don’t even know why I came here,” Ron said, shaking his head.