War of the Roses: Redux Edition

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Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 16 Jul 2019, 23:50

The Comedown

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. It hurt to think.

Devin had never gotten home from a football game and felt the way he did at that moment. Leaning against a wall in Scarlett’s bathroom, an icepack wrapped around his shoulder, another he held to his leg. It was a chore to take a piss without being able to stand upright. He was surprised that he wasn’t pissing blood.

Flushing the toilet, wincing when swollen fingers pushed on the lever, he hobbled over to the sink to wash his hands and then back out into Scarlett’s room. She rushed over to help him when he stepped into the room.

They made it to the bed and he laid down. Like an old man feeling the aches of a long, hard life. Bruises and cuts covered his body, pads having done nothing to lessen the beating that he’d taken at the hands of a wide receiver. An uneducated man would assume that Devin was the one getting tackled all night by an angry mike.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the doctor?” Scarlett asked, worry etched her face and her words. “I can ask my parents to bring you if you don’t want to drive.”

Devin shook his head. He closed his eyes trying to stop the pounding in his skull. “The trainers looked me over after. They told me if I still had a headache in the morning that I should go to the doctor, but I haven’t broken anything or something like that.”

“You haven’t broken anything?”

“Yeah, that’s—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “Of course, you didn’t break anything. Someone else tried to break you. I don’t know much about football, but why didn’t the referees do anything?”

“It wasn’t exactly illegal what he was doing up until that last block. As far as I remember anyway.”

The entire night had blurred into one, long episode of pain for him by the fourth quarter. Even when he wasn’t on the field, it felt like Caesar Jenkins was hitting him, elbowing him on his release, smacking him in the helmet, or a myriad of other ways it seemed like the Vandebilt wideout was out to inflict pain.

Devin’s grandfather had told him that would happen. He didn’t believe it. Call it naivety or willful ignorance, he figured that Caesar Jenkins would care as little about the Jenkins-King rivalry as he did. Boy, was he wrong.

Devin King, Jr. also told him that the referees wouldn’t do anything. They hadn’t even flagged him from the shot to the helmet at the end of the game – the early end to the game. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that the missed targeting penalty would’ve seen Caesar suspended for the next game.

“Well, I don’t think that someone who plays like that should be allowed on a football field. It’s dangerous enough. You don’t have to go out of your way to hurt the other players.”

Devin laughed then immediately regretted it as the pain in his chest and head flared up. He groaned and shook his head. “Most coaches would be praising someone for playing like that. Reckless abandon, playing at the edge, risking his body for the team. Especially a receiver. You expect them to shy away from contact.”

Being on the other end of the beating had somehow endeared Devin to his teammates. Many of them fought at the end of the game for him. Others, of course, just fought because they were embarrassed by the scoreline.

He was most surprised by Trigga and Bart inviting him to a party near the school. They admitted they didn’t expect him to come, but his refusal was more so for his inability to stand than any fear of the neighborhood that it was in.

“Those coaches are fucking assholes, too, then,” she said as she laid down next to Devin. Her phone buzzed, but she didn’t answer it knowing that it was her friends wondering where she was. “I hope wherever that kid is tonight that his conscience is eating at him and he can’t sleep.”

Devin found it hard to believe that Caesar’s conscience would be keeping him up that night.

-*****-

Caesar took a deep breath then ran toward the edge of the roof. Committing to what he was about to do, he planted his foot on the eaves and leapt into the air.

The illuminated pool seemed to rise to meet him as he broke the water and plunged into it. He sunk to inches from the pool floor. Adrenaline still pumping through his body, he kicked off the bottom and swam back up. The others around the pool cheered and raised their cups to him, likely happy he hadn’t killed himself.

Ron slapped a beer into his hand as soon as he’d pulled himself out of the pool. The quarterback shook his head then laughed and threw an arm around his friend. “You don’t need to literally dive into things to dive into pussy, man.”

“I needed a rush,” he said, putting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig of the beer. He looked around at the people who had shown up to the party. There were dozens of them who couldn’t turn the chance to party at the Jenkins’ mansion even though they were at the guest house. Music blaring, plenty of alcohol, plenty of opportunities to hook up with a willing young lady. He turned to Ron and asked, “Do you believe the guys who graduate and say shit like this gets old?”

“Yeah, if you fucking peak in high school. We don’t plan on peaking in fucking high school,” Ron said.

“Touché.”

The two of them walked into the guest house and up to the balcony that overlooked the pool. Their core group were all there; Britton, Kaden, Bentley, Anthony, Hollie, Francesca and Riley. Caesar had broken things off with Emma – for now.

Anthony and Bentley passed a bong between each other as Kaden spoke with Hollie and Riley. Francesca plastered herself to Ron as soon as he sat down. Caesar noticed two girls he’d never met hanging around with Britton’s girlfriend.

“Who are your friends, Britton?” Caesar asked, pouring himself a shot from one of the bottles of vodka on the table.

His girlfriend answered instead. “They’re my friends from school.”

“Can I invite random people to your house?” Caesar raised an eyebrow.

“Yo, chill, Caesar. You got plenty of people you’ve never met before down there. If Janelle says they’re cool people, they’re cool people,” Britton said, sticking up for his girl.

Caesar looked at Ron for help, but he was otherwise preoccupied. Shrugging, he stuck a hand to one of them, a decently pretty brunette, “I’m Caesar. Welcome to my home.”

She shook his hand, “My name’s Erin.” She nodded to her friend, a blonde. “That’s Tiffany.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tiffany said.

“So, y’all go to Terrebonne with Janelle?” They nodded. Caesar downed the shot before pouring another, then he nodded as well. “That’s good. I can always do with some welfare gash hanging around the place.”

Anthony and Bentley cracked up at the term “welfare gash.” Britton was none too happy, but Ron caught his attention and stopped him from saying anything.

Tiffany and Erin just looked between one another, silent.

“You have to say shit like that?” Kaden asked, interrupting his own conversation. “Not everyone who goes to Terrebonne is on welfare.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Caesar said. “You’re always asking fucking questions. Ruining my fucking buzz. I don’t even know why we hang out with you. Go back to your conversation and mind your damn business.”

Kaden shook his head and turned his back to the rest of them.

“Well, come on. Sit down,” Caesar said, pointing to either side of him on the lounger he sat on. The girls sat down, and he handed them each a beer. He opened a beer for himself then leaned back between them. He looked each of them over, mulling a decision. “Typically, I’m not this crass, believe me. But I’m just going to ask. Y’all want to fuck?”

The two girls looked confused. Tiffany spoke first. “Which one of us are you talking to?”

“Yeah, I’m not following,” Erin said.

Caesar laughed. “Y’all. You all. The plural pronoun which refers to more than one person. I’m talking to you all. Both of you.” He pointed them to make his point.

“Tell your friend to stop being disgusting, baby,” Janelle said to Britton.

“What? They can say no and still kick it with us,” Caesar said to her. He looked back to them. “No pressure. I’m just wondering. Y’all are free to say no.”

Neither of them said anything, just exchanging hesitant looks for a moment. Erin shrugged. “I’m down.”

“Why not?” Tiffany said.

“Wunderbar!” Caesar shouted, leaning forward and slamming down his beer. He turned around and looked back at them. “One more question before that though. Y’all ever hook up with each other?”

Ron choked on the swig of beer in his mouth as Anthony and Bentley started laughing again, their highs getting to them.

Caesar stood up, waving his hand when they didn’t answer. “No worries. There’s a first time for everything.”
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 17 Jul 2019, 00:06

This guy said Wunderbar :drose:
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 17 Jul 2019, 12:18

Limping Along

Devin bit into the spicy chicken sandwich in his hands, savoring the one time every week that Terrebonne’s cafeteria actually had edible food that didn’t make you regret swallowing it.

“Have you noticed anything weird between Tiffany and Erin?” Scarlett asked from beside him.

“Other than their normal oddities?”

“I’m being serious!”

Devin held his hands up, palms out. “Alright, alright. No, I haven’t noticed anything weird between them, but I’ll admit that I don’t pay all that much attention to what to the two of them are doing when they’re around.”

“Well, you should pay attention,” she said. “For like two weeks, it’s like they can’t look at each other. I don’t know. It’s weird. They don’t seem mad at each other. Just, I don’t know, embarrassed?”

“Maybe they were fucking the same guy and found out that he had them both doing weird shit so now they’re embarrassed.”

“I seriously doubt they were with the same guy. We talk about those things so unless one of them was going behind the other’s back that wouldn’t happen.”

“Good to know y’all talk about those things.” Devin cringed.

“Oh, stop. They don’t care that we don’t—”

Another student interrupted her by standing next to the table. Devin looked up at him but didn’t recognize him.

“Sorry to bother y’all, but y’all mind if I sit here? Ain’t nowhere else to sit in here,” he said, nodding over his shoulder to the ever-filling cafeteria.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Devin said.

The guy nodded his thanks and sat down. “I didn’t expect there to be so many people in here. In this little town? Little school? Thought it would’ve been empty in here, you know?”

“It’s Spicy Chicken Wednesday.” Devin shrugged.

“Are you new here?” Scarlett asked.

“Yeah. It’s my second day. Name’s Hasan. Came from Miami,” he explained.

“I’m Scarlett and this is Devin.”

Hasan nodded again. “So, you’re that Devin?”

“That Devin?” Devin asked.

“The one everyone talks about around here. Didn’t you get a game-winning pick last week?”

“Oh, yeah. For big win number two. I’m just ready for this season to be over so we can hope to win some more damn games next year. You play?”

Hasan put down his chicken sandwich. “That shit isn’t all that good for a gang of motherfuckers to be in here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. Well, I did before I transferred here. If we stay, then I’ll go out for the team next spring.”

“Do you have a nickname?” Scarlett asked.

“A nickname?”

“She thinks all the guys on the team have a nickname,” Devin explained. “A lot of them do, but she seems to think all of them do. I mean, if my name was Thaddeus, I’d go by a nickname, too.”

“Makes sense, but no. No nicknames for me.” He gestured toward the two of them. “Y’all together?”

Devin nodded, suddenly feeling defensive. “Yeah.”

“Well, if you don’t mind introducing me to any of your friends then I’d appreciate it, Scarlett.” Hasan laughed.

“That’s going to be easy for her friends. They can’t look at each other so you can talk to all of them and they won’t be able to talk about it,” Devin said.

“Were they fucking the same guy and caught each other?”

Scarlett rolled her eyes as Devin burst into laughter.



“Alright, fellas. We’ve got two games left and we can still finish this season strong. H.L. is a rival and we need to string together a couple of good performances to go into the Hall of Fame Game with a head of steam behind us. Go home, get some rest and come back tomorrow ready to work,” Coach Hill said in his parting words to the team before he let them go home for the day.

Devin let his helmet hang from his fingers as he walked to the field house. The end of the season couldn’t come fast enough. His body was demanding time to recover from the toughest season of football he had so far in his life.

Hasan sat on the sidewalk near the locker room and waved Devin over when he saw him passing.

“Not trying to act like I’m some kind of football guru or anything like this, but y’all are trash even in practice,” Hasan said when Devin was out of earshot of the other players. “I thought Louisiana was supposed to be football mecca?”

“It might be, but it isn’t here unless you’re talking about the school down the street. That’s what happens when you can recruit though,” Devin said before shrugging. “What are you still doing here anyway?”

“Waiting for my ride. Not much of a fan of school buses. I figured I’d come out here and watch practice since it was that or go watch the band practice.”

“I don’t know, man. At least with the band, you get some entertainment.”

“There’s only so many times someone wants to hear Flight of the Bumble Bee.”

Devin scratched his chin, trying to decide if he knew how that sounded. “I think their most played song is some shit called El Fuego. It’s definitely not the fight song.”

“I’d think not looking at the schedule. Gotta score touchdowns to hear the fight song.”

“They play the fight song after every score. So, like ten times this season?”

“Y’all some defeatist motherfuckers around here. None of that rah-rah shit you see at other schools. Just ‘yeah, we gonna lose.’”

“Well, when you play for a school that hasn’t had a winning season in 20 years, it’s kinda hard to go around thinking that we’re going to win many games. 4-6, if we win out, is basically like winning State here.”

Hasan pointed behind him to where the basketball court was. “Y’all have never won State either though. Just the one runners-up banner hung up.”

“From the 1980s,” Devin added. “What’s your point? There are plenty of schools that have never won State. I mean, shit, Curtis has like 70 championships by themselves.”

“Don’t you want to have some kind of legacy from doing all this shit out on the field? Maybe get a scholarship from it?” he asked. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to take a quick glance at the screen. He stood up, brushing off his pants. “That’s my ride. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, man.”

Devin nodded, bumping his fist against the one Hasan proffered. He looked at the scratched and scarred helmet in his hand, thinking about Hasan’s words. It was a question that he’d never really thought about before.

What did he want from football?
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djp73
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by djp73 » 17 Jul 2019, 14:46

great work so far Caesar
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 17 Jul 2019, 15:36

A Side, B Side

Candice Jenkins busied herself in the kitchen. It was rare that the woman did any cooking of her own, but from time to time she enjoyed doing things that were part of her life before she became Mrs. Deion Jenkins.

Pierre, the family’s personal cook, hadn’t been happy about being banished from the kitchen, but what Candice said went – especially when Deion wasn’t home. Ultra-conservative men would say her place was the kitchen so if anyone could decide who was and wasn’t allowed in the kitchen, it was her.

She turned to the counter, sliding another five pancakes off the skillet and onto a plate. Above her head, she could hear the soft thuds of feet on the floor upstairs. She paused and listened, then nodded to herself and turned back to the stove to pour more batter onto the skillet.

Reaching into a cabinet, she pulled out two glasses before turning to the fridge to fill them both with orange juice.

A heavy footfall sounded on the stairs and she paused again, waiting, but no further noise followed. Shrugging, she forked bacon and eggs onto plates as well. Altogether, she had to say she was proud of the fact she still had the ability to whip up a decent meal.

She heard footsteps again, and this time reached into her purse to pull out a pill bottle. She dumped one pill into her hand.

“Morning, ma,” Caesar said, stepping into the kitchen. He leaned over the counter and reached out to grab a pancake, but she smacked his hand. “What?”

“You’re not going to feed your friend hiding by the door there first?” she asked, an eyebrow raised, and her hand still clutched.

A girl, faced colored with her embarrassment, walked slowly into the kitchen. “Morning, Mrs. Jenkins.”

“Morning, honey,” Candice said, turning to the cabinet and retrieving two plates. She set them on the counter. “What’s your name?”

“Me—Meredith.” Her voice was quiet, clearly uncomfortable.

Candice walked around the counter and grabbed Meredith’s hand, turning it over so it was palm up. She dropped the pill in the girl’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t have a headache. I feel fine, ma’am,” she said, holding the pill back to Mrs. Jenkins.

The woman leaned down and rested her hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “It’s not ibuprofen, honey.” She turned to her son and waved. “Enjoy y’all’s breakfast, sweetie. I’ll be out today.”

“Thanks, ma,” Caesar said, putting pancakes onto his plate.

Candice poked her head back into the kitchen. “Oh, and Caesar, sweetie?”

“Yeah, ma?”

“Make sure you stop by the pharmacy when you are bringing Meredith home and pick her up whatever feminine products she prefers.” And then she left.

The girl’s eye grew wide when it clicked what the pill was for.



Caesar and Ron sat in the DeRossi’s living room as the quarterback reviewed game film for their next opponent. Since smashing Terrebonne, Vandebilt had gone on to rack up two more huge wins to extend their record to a perfect 8-0. Most people had chosen them as the favorites to win the first combined select/non-select state championship in over 30 years.

Now, they had two games left to finish the regular season without a blemish in the loss column.

“You know you’re wasting a Saturday watching film of fucking Ellender, right? Half of their team will probably be academically ineligible by next week,” Caesar said, staring at an almond he’d taken out of the bowl that was in his lap. “We won’t have a tough opponent for at least another month.”

Ron jotted down notes on a tablet he held. “That’d be the quarterfinals of the playoffs.”

“Are you saying that I’m wrong?”

“No, I’m just pointing it out, so you are aware. For all we know, we’ll get St. Augustine, Zachary, Catholic or UHigh in the first two rounds.”

“First of all, I’m not going to lose to an all-boys school, so we can just chop both St. Aug and Catholic High off there.”

Ron put the stylus down and looked at Caesar. “What does being an all-boys school have to do with playing football? It’s not like Vandebilt wouldn’t try to pull that if there was another Catholic school across the street.”

“It’s hard to play football if you are blind and have hairy palms. That’s what being an all-boys school has to do with that.”

Ron palmed his face and shook his head.

Caesar laughed. “Don’t be mad at me because I pay attention in class, man. Brother Fitch is adamant that sexual urges are controlled through wet dreams. Masturbation blinds men. You know it. I know it. Brother Fitch knows it.”

“Is that why you threw the pre-martial sex bit out of the window?”

“I’m a virgin. You can’t prove otherwise,” Caesar said, popping an almond into his mouth.

“Except for that girl, Diana, because I was there. And also, Shae because I was also there. Oh, and what about those two girls in New Orleans? What were their names?”

“So, you’re point is that you’re a heathen?”

“I’ll take that accusation, because a wise man once told me that you never turn down a blowjob when offered one unless you’re already getting a blowjob because you only have one dick.”

“What did that wise man say about offers of blowjobs while your friend is fucking the chick offering the blowjob?”

“Never turn down a blowjob.” Ron laughed and rewound the game film.

-*****-

Deion Jenkins cursed as he stepped into a puddle outside a dinghy apartment complex. The eyes of the tenants were on him and the two men with him, but mostly Deion as he wore the most expensive clothes and gave off the aura of wealth.

“Maybe you should have brought some of those shrimp boots with you from back home, Deion,” one of them, Ulysses Williams said.

“Maybe I should’ve told you to fuck off when you asked me to find you a safety who is graduating in 2052,” Deion shot back. “Just let you go recruit some bum from Kansas or Nebraska who is just tired of his mother and sister being the only women he saw.”

The other man, Yonni Williams, who bore no relation to Ulysses other than being college teammates with Deion, stepped in front of them and looked around the complex. “How exactly did you find this kid, Deion? I know he goes to Euless Trinity, but how did you know where he lived?”

“Didn’t I say not to ask too many questions? You two are already contacting the kid way too early. Let’s just limit the amount of violations that we have to worry about. Well, not me, because I’m not a college football coach.”

The three men climbed three flights of stairs to the top level of one of the buildings. Broken children’s toys littered the breezeway and a few people hanging outside gave them weird looks. Ulysses and Yonni were recruiters, they’d been to far worse places to speak to prospects. Deion had his reasons for not being uncomfortable.

Deion banged on the door of the last apartment. The door cracked open almost immediately.

“What the fuck do you want?” a voice asked from inside.

“Open the fucking door, Sydney. I told you I was coming here today.”

The door closed for a moment and was opened once more to reveal a woman standing in the doorway. She looked at the two men with Deion. “You didn’t say you were bringing random people to my house.”

“They’re here to talk to Erik. They’re recruiters at Oklahoma State. You want the kid to get a scholarship to go to college, don’t you?”

She sighed then stepped out of the way and let them in.

“Thank you for allowing us into your home, Mrs. – I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Yonni said.

“Sydney Miller.”

“Well, Mrs. Miller, you have a lovely home.”

Ulysses leaned over to Deion and lowered his voice. “You said the kid’s name was—”

Deion held up a hand. “Too many questions, Ulysses. Figure that out when he graduates, and he has to fill out financial aid.”
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 17 Jul 2019, 16:09

The plot thickens :curtain:

Soapy
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Soapy » 18 Jul 2019, 17:03

Caesar wrote:
17 Jul 2019, 12:18
“Not trying to act like I’m some kind of football guru or anything like this, but y’all are trash even in practice,” Hasan said when Devin was out of earshot of the other players. “I thought Louisiana was supposed to be football mecca?”
bitch where.

to have a Miami guy saying that is trash.

fix it.

now.
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 21 Jul 2019, 19:19

Not in the Same League

“So, tell me again, why the fuck does Martin want us to come here first? Wouldn’t it be better for us to go to Terrebonne for the first half and come here for the second half?” a cameraman asked as he set up his camera on the sidelines of Vandebilt’s Bobby Guidry Stadium. “Besides, you’re trying to walk around that part of town at night? I’d rather not get robbed or shot tonight.”

“That part of town? What part of town? Terrebonne is five minutes down the fucking road. Just be happy this game isn’t in Patriot Point. Then we’d really have to worry about getting shot.”

The cameraman shook his head. “Five minutes down the road, but a whole different world. I just think we’d get better film if we’re doing this the opposite way around. It’s going to be a blowout there by the second half.”

“It’s going to be a blowout here by the second half. What’s your point? They paid Martin to be on TV. They’ll be on TV first.”

Vandebilt’s band cranked up the school’s fight song and their team, in their old gold and royal blue, ran out onto the field to the cheers of the home crowd.

-*****-

“J.D. Thibodaux in the gun for H.L. Bourgeois here. Two receivers split out to either side of him with his running back Reshard Garner in the backfield. The snap is high, but Thibodaux brings it down. He fires it out to Paul Boudreaux on the crossing pattern. He makes a man miss, gets a few key blocks, cuts across the field, and it’s a foot race to the endzone!”

Devin threw his hand down to keep himself from falling and took off behind the H.L. receiver, but it was all for naught. With a 20-yard head start on him, Devin was never going to catch the blue-clad wideout without the hands of God aiding him.

Nonetheless, he ran all the way to the endzone. Effort and all that.

On the sideline, Coach Hill shouted as his defense for blowing their coverage assignments and allowing a five-yard drag to go 75 yards for a touchdown.

-*****-

“Double reverse! A little trickeration for Vandebilt! Caesar Jenkins has the ball in the backfield and is heading for the edg—Wait! He’s set up to throw! He has his quarterback wide open down the field if he can hit him!”

Caesar channeled every early lesson on football he’d gotten from his father on how to throw a football. He stepped into the throw and launched it downfield toward Ron.

The stadium seemed to inhale all at once as the noise stopped for a split second while the ball was in the air. Then it came back like a tidal wave smashing buildings as the touchdown was signaled.

“Oh my, ladies and gentlemen! Touchdown Vandebilt! But you have to say it’s unfair when you star receiver can throw 65-yard bombs, but I guess that’s expected when he’s the son of a future Hall of Fame quarterback!”

-*****-

“The Braves come out in their patented full house look. Terrebonne matches them with eight defenders in the box. Thibodaux gets the snap, hands—no, it’s a fake! He’s dropping back.”

The Tigers’ sideline erupted with shouts of pass, pass, pass as both Devin and Kenyatta were suddenly trailing their receivers on opposite sides of the field. Willie, the lone deep safety, ran toward the line of scrimmage.

The H.L. receivers ran mirrored routes toward the center of the field. Thibodaux managed to get the ball to one of them just as they crossed paths. The three defenders were so bent on getting in place to make a play on the ball that they ran into each other as the receiver flew by.

Devin watched from the bottom of an embarrassing heap of “athlete” as the Braves went up 21-3.

-*****-

“DeRossi drops back and has all the time in the world as the Patriots drop eight men into coverage. The pocket holds. The pocket holds. He has room to run if he chooses to. He steps and fires a laser into the heart of the Ellender defense. Jenkins makes the grab, splits a couple defenders and is into the endzone to make it 48-0 here in the third quarter. DeRossi put some lagniappe on that throw!”

Caesar jogged to the sidelines, a grin on his face as he took his helmet. He met Ron on the sideline and the two of them shared a celebratory fist bump.

“How many scouts are in the stands?” Caesar asked.

Ron shrugged, taking a water bottle from one of the team’s managers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yeah. You just threw into prevent defense because you’re a dumbfuck not because you’re trying to show off your arm strength.”

“Just a few small schools. LSU, TCU, USC, Alabama, you know.” Ron said, a grin spreading across his face as well.

-*****-

Devin sat at his locker, his head in his hands. To say that the 38-10 beating they’d just endured at the hands of one of their most hated rivals was humbling would be an understatement, but for Terrebonne’s players the embarrassment hadn’t ended at the scoreline. Coach Hill pulled all the starters for backups and JV and freshmen who’d started dressing with the varsity now that their seasons were over.

The backups won their portion of the game 7-3.

Throughout the game, when the chants of “our house” died down from the H.L. student body during lulls in play, the faint explosions of cheers from the stadium down the road wafted across the city letting everyone know that Vandebilt was once again running riot over their opponent.

Coach Hill had seemingly ditched the tactic of yelling at the team following losses. Instead, he stood in the middle of the locker room, arms crossed, visor crunched in his hand, shaking his head at the team in silence.

He was as devoid of new ideas as they were.

With one game left to play, Devin was happy that his first season of varsity football would be ending soon. Perhaps in the offseason, he’d consider picking up basketball or baseball – at least those teams won games at Terrebonne.

-*****-

The celebrations were reaching a fever pitch in Vandebilt’s locker room. After their 77-0 demolition of Ellender, they’d been informed that they’d clinched a top two seed in the playoffs after Scotlandville pulled off an upset against Catholic High in Baton Rouge. One more win and some favorable nods from those in charge of seeding and they’d be heading into the playoffs as the top seed.

Caesar grabbed his phone from his locker and scrolled through the mass of congratulatory texts and social media messages and the invitations to various parties.

He glanced over his shoulder at Ron, who was talking with coaches from Division II and III schools looking to take advantage of their head start and being allowed to officially speak to players before the Division I powerhouses.

Ron would be polite and listen to what they had to say, but they all knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that a soon-to-be All-State and state champion quarterback would be headed to any school beneath the Power 5.

Caesar was anxious to start the recruiting process himself even though he knew he’d be committing to Oklahoma State. He wanted to experience it.

“Hey! Hey!” Coach Thomas shouted over the din of the players. “Before you all go out and get into things I don’t want to know about remember that we have mass and breakfast in Thibodaux Sunday with E.D. White’s team!”

The team groaned.

“Stuff it! It’s tradition and you’ll be there! All of you! Suits and ties!”

Caesar sighed to himself and put his phone back in his locker as he pulled his jersey over his shoulder pads, ready to get to the playoffs.
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Captain Canada
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War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Captain Canada » 21 Jul 2019, 21:06

Not the best start for Devin. Wonder how he's going to turn it around.
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Caesar
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Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

War of the Roses: Redux Edition

Post by Caesar » 22 Jul 2019, 17:03

Unholy One

Caesar resisted the urge to doze off as Father York, the archbishop of the Houma-Thibodaux diocese, continued his homily. For the past 15 years, it had been a tradition for Vandebilt and E.D. White’s football teams, the two biggest in the diocese, to come together for a shared mass on the Sunday prior to their meeting which was always the last game of the season.

The diocese’s other high school, Central Catholic, was also invited to attend but the first half of the large co-cathedral was filled by the blue coats of Vandebilt’s students on one side and the gray coats of E.D. White’s on the opposite side.

Ron nudged Caesar with his elbow and pointed to one of the players sitting across the aisle in gray. The guy glanced back at them, shook his head, then turned back.

“You think he’s still mad about his sister?” Caesar whispered.

Ron scoffed, drawing the ire of Coach Thomas. He raised his hand to his mouth and faked a cough until the coach looked away. “Yes, Caesar, I’d say he’s still mad about you fucking his sister in the Confessional. It is pretty much the only reason he’s even at E.D. White.”

“Nah, man. Their dad got a job in Vacherie and didn’t want to drive as far so he moved them all to Thibodaux.”

“They’re Catholics. Embarrassment and public shame are bigger drivers than jobs. He’s probably going to try to kick your ass.”

“I don’t think he’s mad. I wouldn’t be mad about that. It’s not like he got caught sucking a dude off in the Confessional. He used to hang with us. I think he’d let bygones be bygones.”

“Alright, man.” Ron snickered, earning another angry glare from Coach Thomas.



“Ron. Caesar. Fellas.”

Caesar looked at the hand extended toward him, leery as he shook the guy’s hand. “What’s up, Chip? How’s E.D. White treating you these days?”

“Not as many good looking girls as Vandebilt, unfortunately, but I’m sure you already know that,” Chip said, laughing as he shook Ron and the others’ hands. “It does hurt my heart that I’m going to have to take a top-seed from you guys though.”

“I don’t think a 3-6 team is going to be the one to do it, chief,” Ron said as he dug into the pancakes on the table in front of him. The breakfast after mass was the only good part of the tradition in his opinion.

“Scotlandville was 1-7 when they knocked off Catholic,” Chip said.

“They had a lucky number for their record, though.” Caesar pointed at himself.

Chip shook his head. “You do know if I was still at Vandebilt that you’d be on the other side of the field, maybe even in the slot, right?”

“It’s a good thing he fucked your sister then,” Bentley said through a mouthful of pancakes before Anthony joined in with laughter.

“C’mon, man. We’re in a church,” Kaden said.

“A church hall,” Britton corrected.

Caesar waved their comments off, feeling competitive. “Chip, you know that’s the biggest fucking lie you’ve ever told. I started ahead of you as a freshman. You were a junior.”

“I do have to say Caesar’s a better receiver, Chip,” Ron said.

“Fuck off, man. Y’all always sticking up for each other. Homosexuality is still blasphemous, you know?” Chip said.

“Getting bent over in the confessional booth and moaning out a few Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s is pretty blasphemous too,” Caesar shot back.

Chip went to lunge over the table, but a few of his teammates who were passing by stopped the ruckus before it could start. Apparently, they'd expected Chip to pop off. Pancakes and orange juice falling to the floor.

“We’ll see what happens Friday, bitch,” Chip said as the E.D. White coaches walked over to get a handle on the situation.

“You always gotta start shit, Caesar,” Kaden said as orange juice splattered on his shoes and trousers from the cups that’d been dropped.

Caesar leaned forward over the table. “You’re supposed to be on our side on this one, dumbass. Stop fucking being a bitch and ride for your teammates.”



Caesar, Ron, and Kaden sat in Britton’s SUV as he drove through the backroads of Thibodaux. Anthony and Bentley followed them in another car. As they moved along, the houses got a little less well-maintained and more people hung on the corners. Kids played in the streets as adults congregated in overgrown yards.

“Why are we here again?” Britton asked, clearly uncomfortable with the surroundings.

“Because Friday is the last regular season game. Ron’s throwing a big ass party. We need some favors for those who like to partake,” Caesar said.

“Who the fuck said I was throwing the party?” Ron asked from the passenger seat, not looking up from his phone.

“Process of elimination.”

Kaden rolled up his window and leaned away from it. “And you couldn’t have waited until we got back to Houma for this? At least you know the people in Houma you buy drugs from.”

“No, I don’t,” Caesar said. “I also don’t buy drugs from people. I’m buying party favors. Streamers, hats, zany cups and what not.”

“I just hope no cops show up,” Kaden said.

Ron laughed. “Cops don’t come to Marydale unless there’s been a shooting. I think we’re going to be safe back here from the boys in blue.”

“Now, all these sketchy ass fucking people is a different story,” Britton added.

Caesar tapped Britton on the shoulder and pointed to a group of four guys lingering by a corner. “Pull up by them.”

“Those random ass fucking dudes wearing hoodies and smoking Black N’ Milds?”

“Yes, those guys.” He looked over his shoulder at Kaden. “Try to keep your mouth shut so we don’t get fucking robbed, yeah?”

“Fuck you, man. There’s got to be an easier way to do this,” Kaden said.

Britton slowed the SUV to a stop where Caesar told him to. Andrew and Bentley kept going down the street. ‘Smart guys,’ Caesar thought to himself.

Caesar opened the door and hopped out of the SUV. The group all stared at him as if he was an alien, wearing a tailored suit in Marydale.

“What’s up? Y’all good?”

One of them, almost as tall as Caesar with dreads, stepped forward. “The fuck you mean? Better run on home before you wind up on a milk carton, cuh.”

“I just heard y’all got a yellow jacket problem on y’all totems out here. Sally D sent me.”

A short one at the back of the group laughed. “No yellow jacket problem here, but you can go skating.”

“I don’t fuck with skating. Just dealing with yellow jackets.”

The tall one looked Caesar over. “You a cop?”

He shook his head. “Just a rich kid with money.”

The tall one looked back at the others and pointed to Caesar. One of them walked up to him and shook his hand, pulling him in for a hug. He felt a bag get slipped in his pocket. A second one did the same and Caesar pressed a roll of money into his hand.

Caesar nodded and hopped back in the SUV. “Drive off slowly,” he told Britton which he did. Caesar pulled a bag filled with pills out of his pocket. Ron looked over his shoulder and grinned. Kaden cursed.

“Now, get the fuck out of here before they rob us for real.” Caesar laughed.

Britton turned the corner and hit the accelerator, flying by where Anthony and Bentley were waiting for them. He made it back to the main road back to Houma and slowed down.

But not enough.

As soon as they passed a tree in a curve, blue lights pulled up behind them.

“Oh, shit! We’re fucked, man,” Britton said, eyes darting between the rearview and the road.

“Eat that shit, Caesar,” Ron said.

“What the fuck you mean ‘eat that shit, Caesar’? This shit would kill a horse,” Caesar said, holding the bag up.

“Throw it out of the fucking window then,” Britton said.

“Good idea, genius. Just let the cop see drugs fly out of the window,” Ron said.

“We’re going to fucking jail,” Kaden groaned.

“Shut the fuck up and just be calm,” Caesar said. “Pull over before they have the whole troop behind you.”

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Britton asked.

“You’re going to give him your license and registration and tell him to have a nice day and shit,” Caesar said as he stuffed the bag into the inside pocket of his coat.

Britton pulled over on the side of the road as the state trooper’s cruiser pulled up behind him. The trooper got out of his car and pulled his hat on as he walked up to the car, speaking into his radio.

“Be fucking cool,” Ron said to Britton.

The cop tapped on the window and Britton rolled it down. “Morning, officer,” Britton said.

“What were you boys doing speeding out of Marydale?” the trooper asked, looking into the car. “Looks like y’all just came from church.”

“We did, sir,” Britton said. “We aren’t from here. We got lost and I got a little scared. I’m sorry for speeding.”

“License and registration, please.”

Britton handed over the paperwork as the trooper took one last glance in the car then headed back to his cruiser.

“I’m about to shit myself,” Britton said.

“Shut the fuck up.” Caesar kicked the seat then turned to Kaden. “You, too.”

“I didn’t even say shit,” Kaden said.

“Shut up, he’s coming back,” Ron said, glancing in the rearview.

The trooper put his hand on his weapon before stopping by the driver’s side door. “We got a call that there was a smell of marijuana coming from this vehicle. While it’s legal, it’s not legal to drive under the influence. I’m going to need you boys to step out of the car.”

“Fucking Anthony and Bentley,” Ron muttered as he shoved open the door.

“Slow now,” the trooper said.

Caesar slid across the seat and got out of the SUV on the same side as Kaden. Kaden was slow getting out of the vehicle and Caesar bundled into him. Grabbing his suit coat to right him before he fell, Caesar held him up and shoved him out of the way.

“Y’all go on and sit on the ground there,” the trooper said as two other cruisers pulled up.

Britton was the first one to get hauled to his feet and patted down. He was sweating bullets as he kept glancing at Caesar then the backup that was approaching. When they didn’t find anything on Britton, they handcuffed him and sat him down.

Ron was next, biting his lip to keep from spouting off insults at the cop who roughly pulled on his suit coat. They found nothing and handcuffed him as well.

Then they stood up Caesar. Britton hung his head.

“You ain’t got nothing that’s going to stick me, do you?” the cop asked.

“I have a pen in my coat pocket. On the inside.” Caesar held out his arm so the cop could grab the ballpoint pen from his coat.

“Don’t I know you boys from somewhere?” the officer patting down Caesar asked.

“Don’t know, officer. We’re just church boys trying to get on home,” Caesar said.

The trooper patted at his pockets then his pants and his ankles. “Nothing on this one either.”

Britton, Ron, and Kaden all looked up confused as Kaden was stood up for his turn being searched.

When Kaden raised his arms, he felt something hit his chest and his eyes grew wide. The cop sensed it and immediately reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the bag of pills.

“Looks like you’re having a little party, son,” the cop said, holding the bag in front of him.

“Th-- that’s not mine!” Kaden shouted.

“It was in your jacket. How did it get there if it isn’t yours?” the cops turned to the others. “Do y’all know anything about this?”

Caesar shook his head. “We don’t even really know him all that well. We all go to church together, but we were just giving him a ride.”

The cops looked to Britton, the driver, to confirm. He paused before a side-eyed glanced from Ron had him nodding in agreement.

“It’s not mine! It’s his!” Kaden shouted, pointing at Caesar. The cops grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back, handcuffing him. He fought against them as they wrestled him to the ground, still cursing.

The first trooper looked at Britton, Ron and Caesar. “We’re going to search your car. We’ll see where we go from there.”

As Kaden was shoved into the back of one of the cruisers, still shouting his innocence, Britton, Ron, and Caesar watched as the cops turned the SUV upside down.

An hour or so later, they were on their way, each with a minor in possession summons for bottles of vodka found under the seats.

But they headed to Houma with one less person in the car and a warning to be more aware of who they let in the vehicle.
Last edited by Caesar on 30 Jul 2019, 20:12, edited 1 time in total.
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