Dying to Live

[Caesar]

You Not Special

“Let me get three of the ten-wing combos. One with BC sauce, one with lemon pepper and one with premier sauce.”

Royce pulled his debit card out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier at the neighborhood wing spot. Rana had sent him a couple hundred bucks through his CashApp that morning and he was in the mood to treat himself, Romeo and Arianna.

The cashier handed Royce back his card and three cups to get the drinks to go with those combos.

Walking over to the drink fountains, he noticed Jeremi sitting at a table near the window with his baby mama, Wandaneka, and their daughter. Scoffing to himself, he started to fill the drinks, wondering how he was going to get them and the food to his car.

As if reading his mind, the cashier put a drink carrier on top of the boxes of wings for him when his order was ready. He thanked them and left the restaurant.

“Why you running, nigga?” Jeremi called from behind him as he got to his car.

He placed the wings and drinks on the seat before turning around. “We got two whole different definitions of running if you saying that I’m running. But I for damn sure ain’t running from you so carry your ass back in there and play daddy before some other nigga swoop in and start raising your kid for you.”

“That’s big talk for a pussy who had to sneak me. You and your brother going to get got. Believe that.”

“You ain’t doing shit right now, though, so what we talking about? If you were ‘bout it then we’d be fighting already. You’re not real unless you with your brother or with forty other niggas pumping your head up.”

“I just know y’all like to run from real niggas. Your pussy ass brother did the other day. I’m waiting for you to speed out here, too.”

“Real?” Royce asked, laughing. “You don’t become real through birth, my guy. And if you did, I’m ten times the gangsta you are. I got uncles and cousins doing ten, twenty, thirty years at Hunt, Angola, Dixon. My daddy up the river for double murder. You repping off your brother doing three years and a little probation for touching little girls? Be for real, my nigga. Go back inside before you get your ass beat again.”

Jeremi stepped toward Royce. “Y’all keep throwing that sneak diss at Jamie, but none of y’all say that shit when y’all around him. That girl was 16.”

“Okay? That nigga like 30? I’m glad you ride for your brother like that even when he a pedophile because I’d have to kill Romeo if he ever even joked about that. I applaud y’all. Y’all some nasty motherfuckers, but y’all real behind your family.”

“Fuck all that. I want my one.”

Royce shook his head and pointed at the Houma Police Department’s cameras across the street in an abandoned grocery store’s parking lot. “I’m not going to jail again for you. You know where to find me if you wanna fight.”

“Pussy,” Jeremi said. “We know you ain’t gonna come outside if I show up outside your house. Y’all whole family pussies. From Reg, to Romeo, to you.”

Royce waved off the comments and got into his car, pulling out of the parking lot.

He knew that he or Romeo were going to have to fight Jeremi at some point to end their little spat. It was the law of the hood. Jeremi was likely being ridiculed by his friends and family for getting knocked out and needed to win one to get them off his back.

Unfortunately, Romeo had never been a fighter.

And Royce didn’t anticipate losing in a round of fisticuffs with Jeremi. He’d seen him fight before, and even on fair terms, he was confident about his chances.

That’d bring up more problems, but that was a bridge to cross another day. His focus at that moment was just to get home and tear up some wings.

~~~~~~~~~~

Royce pulled up in front of his house and noticed Britni’s car parked on the street. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. In all the time she’d been with Romeo, he could count on one hand the amount of times that she’d even considered coming to their neighborhood. He was under the impression that she was afraid to do so.

Although Romeo would say it was because she didn’t want to burn her gas for the long trek from Bourg. Not that she had any problem asking Romeo to do so in the reverse.

Grabbing the wings and drinks out of his car, he jogged up the steps and was relieved to find the storm door propped open and the front door open altogether. Kicking the storm door to open it, he slipped into the house without only a little of one drink spilling on his hand.

Romeo and Britni were cuddled up on the sofa, watching a movie.

“I texted you to help me bring this shit in,” Royce said to his brother.

Romeo looked over his shoulder. “Looks like you managed. You got me the lemon pepper ones, right?”

“Nah, I got you mild wings because I know your palette a little white washed. Don’t want you drinking up all ma’s milk because your mouth burning.”

“Bruh, c’mon.”

“Don’t whine, nigga. They right here. Lemon pepper, red Fanta,” Royce said as he pulled his box out of the bag and popped it open, beginning to eat while standing up at the kitchen counter – mostly because he didn’t want to sit in the living room with Britni.

Romeo got up and walked into the kitchen, taking the other two boxes. Royce grabbed the bag to stop him.

“One of those for Arianna,” he said, chicken wing in hand.

Romeo looked around. “Where the fuck is Arianna, because she’s not here?”

“Does it fucking matter? I said it’s for Arianna, it’s for Arianna. Now, let the shit go.”

“I’ll just give you some money to go get another box for her,” Britni said, leaning over the sofa to see into the kitchen. “I didn’t know y’all were getting food when I came over and I’m hungry.”

Royce tightened his grip on the bag, pointing at Britni with his free hand. “Get your ass in your car, drive over there and get your own fucking wings if you’re hungry. It’s just over the bridge. You could even walk to that bitch.”

“I’m not going in there,” she said, her nose scrunched in disgust.

“Send Romeo then. Or go somewhere you want to go in. I don’t give a fuck either way, but you not getting the wings that’s in this box. Arianna already don’t like you, and you don’t look like you can fight,” Royce said, giving her a once over. “And is that even your hair? I wouldn’t want to lose that either way.”

“C’mon, bro. Stop being a dickhead,” Romeo said, pulling the bag toward him. “I’m just trying to fucking eat.”

“I think you’re just being a dick because you’re mad that Rome is getting scholarship offers and you’re not. It’s fine. I guess you’re preparing for your life after high school of selling chicken wings to disgruntled customers,” Britni said, turning back around.

“Bitch, fuck you,” Royce said. “You’re forgetting who house you’re in. You’re a long way from Bourg and HPD take a long time to get here when you call them.”

Romeo let go of the bag to throw his hands up. “Nigga, all that shit ain’t necessary. I’m just trying to get the food and y’all starting World War III up in here. All you had to do was let go of the bag and go get Arianna some more whenever she got here.”

Royce slammed the bag on the counter, taking out one of the boxes to check the labels on them. Grabbing the one labeled lemon pepper, he threw it across the counter at Romeo, who had to stop it before it slid onto the floor.

Royce then tied the bag up and put it under his own box. “Arianna is your fucking cousin. Your family. If I say the shit is for her, then it’s for her. If you want to go get your bitch some food,” he took his keys out of his pocket and threw them on the counter. “There you fucking go.”

“You don’t have to call her a bitch,” Romeo said.

“Thank you,” Britni said over her shoulder.

“Nah, because fuck both of y’all, but especially you,” Royce said, pointing at his brother. “You not fucking special because you got a couple coaches selling you dreams. You’re a junior. A lot could change in a fucking year. Bet her ass hoping one of them slide a scholarship over for her, too, huh? Daddy money only enough for Nicholls. You smelling yourself, nigga.”

“Talking about family, but not celebrating me getting shine. Make it make sense,” Romeo said, shaking his head as he walked back to living room.

“Bitch ass nigga,” Royce said under his breath as he went back to eating his wings.

He ignored Britni and Romeo’s conversation and stared out the window as an obviously high on crack man danced his way up the street, singing along to music in his head as he wasn’t wearing headphones.

[The JZA]

“Real?” Royce asked, laughing. “You don’t become real through birth, my guy. And if you did, I’m ten times the gangsta you are. I got uncles and cousins doing ten, twenty, thirty years at Hunt, Angola, Dixon. My daddy up the river for double murder. You repping off your brother doing three years and a little probation for touching little girls? Be for real, my nigga. Go back inside before you get your ass beat again.”

“Send Romeo then. Or go somewhere you want to go in. I don’t give a fuck either way, but you not getting the wings that’s in this box. Arianna already don’t like you, and you don’t look like you can fight,” Royce said, giving her a once over. “And is that even your hair? I wouldn’t want to lose that either way.”

He ignored Britni and Romeo’s conversation and stared out the window as an obviously high on crack man danced his way up the street, singing along to music in his head as he wasn’t wearing headphones.

[Soapy]

Rom highkey a piece of shit for not trying to sell it as a 2-for-1 deal to the coaches and here he go letting his girl talk to his brother like that and letting his brother call his girl a bitch to his face

[Caesar]

Rom highkey a piece of shit for not trying to sell it as a 2-for-1 deal to the coaches and here he go letting his girl talk to his brother like that and letting his brother call his girl a bitch to his face

Aht aht

Williams’ hand and the man turned to walk away, but Romeo got his attention again. “What about my brother, sir? You know we’d really like to go to the same school.”

[Captain Canada]

Rome still a bitch fr though

[Soapy]

Rome still a bitch fr though

deadass

[Caesar]

Kept Down

Royce crept up to the line of scrimmage, tapping Zion on his hip.

“You got him! You got him!” he shouted to the defensive end, pointing to the upback who shifted into the backfield.

He took a few steps back, remaining crouched slightly, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to spring in any direction. Lakeshore’s quarterback barked out signals as their band played a steady drum cadence, something they’d been doing all game prior to every snap.

Royce noticed the running back shift his weight slightly to the right just as the ball was snapped. The quarterback turned and held the ball out for the running back. The offensive line surged forward, the left guard pulling to the play side.

Royce side-stepped to the right, exploding out of his stance once the ball cleared. He dodged the pulling guard, using his hands to make sure the lineman didn’t get to his body and push him away from the play.

The running back put his hand on the back of one of his teammates, waiting for his blocking to develop in front of him. Royce continued to flow to the right, making sure that he wasn’t overrunning the play. A brief hole appeared between two linemen and the running back planted his foot to cut back to the left and hit it.

Royce mirrored his movements, cutting back as well. He felt the satisfying impact as the two of them met in the gap. Royce wrapped his arms around the running back’s torso, driving his shoulder into his midsection. The running back tried to keep his legs churning to power through the tackle, but with Royce used his momentum to swing the both of them to the turf to complete the tackle.

…

“Terrebonne’s Royce Lafitte on the stop. Third and one, Lakeshore. The Titans remain in the lead 30-17.”

…

“Lakeshore’s Martin Sartin plunges into the end zone to make it 36-17 Lakeshore!”

…

“Jalen Smith is in the game for Terrebonne after three interceptions thrown by starter Marty Porche. Smith is going to pass on first down, but it’s a jailbreak up front. Big time sack from Lakeshore’s Terrance Williams.”

…

Romeo settled into his stance in the backfield, heart thudding in his chest from the night’s exhaustion. It’d been a long game with a lot of bad plays, but they weren’t completely out of it yet. A big play or two could spark a comeback.

The ball was snapped. He felt the adrenaline surge in his body, the sound of the crowd falling away as his eyes darted from left to right. He exploded out of his stance, taking the handoff from Jalen and heading for the space between the guard and tackle.

He hit the hole hard, surging past a lunging defender. He looked to his left, seeing a linebacker closing in on him. He stutter-stepped toward the player and then juked to the right to create some space, giving himself time to accelerate away from the would-be tackler.

As soon as he slipped out of the scrum in the middle of the field, he caught a flash of color and looked up just in time to see the safety barreling at him. He lowered his shoulder to brace for the impact. The collision sent him spinning. His arm shot out for balance as his legs continued to churn to keep his momentum.

He didn’t see the clean-up hit coming.

The shoulder driving into his side knocked the wind out of his lungs — and set the ball free from his grasp. Bodies piled on top of the ball as he tried to locate it. It was futile as the referees cleared the pile and signaled Lakeshore ball.

Romeo slapped the turf in anger, cursing at himself.

…

“Sartin powers up the middle for a short gain.”

…

“Lakeshore with no receivers on the field. It doesn’t take a genius to know they’re running this. Sartin lowers his shoulder and picks up three on the play.”

…

Royce shifted left to the outside shoulder of the tackle, creeping forward to the line of scrimmage. The quarterback was under center, beginning his cadence. He pointed inside, getting a nod from Andrew at defensive end.

The quarterback snapped the ball and turned to his left, the ball in his right hand with his left empty and held out. The running back went right, his arms held as if he was receiving the ball.

Royce attacked the outside shoulder of the tackle then spun to the inside, swinging his arm up to keep the tackle from grabbing hold of him. His eyes widened as he saw the running back setting to block on the opposite side of the play.

The quarterback began to bring has arm back to throw. Royce closed the distance quickly, lowering his shoulder and aiming for the quarterback’s hip. He felt the quarterback’s body give way at the impact, heard a grunt of pain as he wrapped him up.

They both tumbled to the turf. The quarterback, slow to get up, held the ball up to ensure the referees saw he still had it.

There were no celebrations in Terrebonne’s sideline as Royce jogged off the field.

…

Another week, another loss, Royce thought to himself as he lined up with the other players to get on the bus and make the long journey back to Houma. The bus ride home after a loss was bad enough. A three-hour bus ride after a loss in the late hours of the day was the worst.

He boarded the bus, tossing his duffel bag to one of the JV players tasked with stacking them all at the rear of the buses.

Romeo sat toward the middle of the bus, his head pressed against the glass of the window as he listened to music through his AirPods.

Royce sucked his teeth and went to an empty seat a couple rows back on the opposite side of the bus. He pulled his own AirPods out of his pocket to let the sounds of some classic Louisiana rap drown out the thoughts about the game they’d just played.

~~~~~~~~~~

Royce drummed on the steering wheel of his car as he sat outside of Ma Beulah’s house waiting for Toni and Arianna. They’d asked, or rather begged, for a ride to New Orleans and while there were an infinite number of things that he would rather be doing, he figured he’d do the good cousin thing and oblige.

A few minutes later, the two of them walked to the car. Toni got in the passenger seat while Arianna opted for the back.

An unusual decision for the pair.

Royce raised an eyebrow and looked at Toni and then Arianna.

“She knows where we’re going. I don’t,” Arianna said, laying down across the seats. “Wake me up when we get to the City.”

“What kind of shit? This ain’t no Uber. Wake ya ass up,” Royce said, reaching between the seats to smack Arianna’s foot.

“Just drive, bruh. I got you on gas,” she said before pulling the hood of the jacket she was wearing over her face and turning toward the seat.

Shaking his head, Royce put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

“Where we going?” he asked Toni.

“Just drive to New Orleans. I’ll tell you when we get to Luling.”

He wanted to protest more, but he was the only one in the family with a car so it wasn’t as if he could pass the buck to someone else. That was, outside of giving Romeo his keys and his license which he wasn’t going to do.

He reached over and hit play on his phone to give himself some driving music for the trip.

…

An hour and a half later, Royce pulled into a parking spot at one of New Orleans’ post offices. Toni had been cryptic at best about why they were there and Arianna was true to her word of sleeping for the entire trip.

She sat up when he shifted the car into park.

Toni dug through her purse and pulled out a single key on a lanyard, handing it to Arianna, who got out of the car and headed into the post office.

“Y’all moving weight or something?” Royce asked as he watched his cousin walk into the building. He was only half joking.

“No,” Toni said, her voice flat.

He nodded to the building. “We here now. You might as well tell me why y’all had me drive my black ass all the way to the City when I could’ve been at home sleep.”

“You don’t tell anyone’s business. That’s why we wanted you to drive us.”

“Who else you were going to ask?”

“Arianna suggested asking Mitchell or Sheldon to take their daddy’s car, but I don’t trust them. They talk too much. Always bullshitting about stuff.”

Royce looked around in a dramatic fashion. “You sure y’all not selling dope because this sound like some shit someone would say if they selling dope. I’m fine either way, but I need to know if I’m about to have dope in my car.”

Toni looked at him and laughed, a quiet laugh. “No. It’s— it’s just a lot. I don’t know how you’ll react and I can’t have Ma Beulah finding out. She’ll lose her shit.”

“What you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“If I tell you, you can’t react crazy.”

“Alright.”

“I’m pregnant,” she said, pausing to gauge his reaction. “We’re picking up some abortion pills.”

Royce stared at her for a long moment, trying to see if she was messing with him. When he decided she was being serious, he shrugged. “Alright.”

“That’s it?”

“You said not to react crazy. You know who the daddy is?”

“Yes, I fucking know who the daddy is,” she said, her voice raising a bit. “Deshawn Alexander.”

He started laughing. “That light skin nigga who play basketball at H.L.? You let him hit? Raw? C’mon, Toni. He lame as fuck. I’d be aborting that njgga baby, too.”

She smacked him in the chest. “He’s nice, asshole. Just because he lives in a nice area doesn’t mean he’s lame. And the fucking condom broke.”

“Because he been having that shit in his wallet for his whole life until he finally found someone willing to let his lame ass hit,” Royce said, still laughing.

“I shouldn’t even have told your ass.”

“What you mean? Hopefully it helps you pick them better in the future!”

Arianna came out of the building and quickly made her way over to the car. She hopped in the backseat and handed Toni back the key and gave her a package with the name “Tony Soprano” on the label.

Royce leaned over and looked at Arianna, his lips quivering as he tried to hold in his laughter.

“Did you tell him?” Arianna asked Toni.

“Yeah, I heard about Deshawn. You let her do that?” He asked, starting to laugh again. “You did her dirty as fuck letting that lame ass nigga spit that lame ass game to ya cousin.”

“He’s nice,” both of them said at the same time.

Royce started to back out of the spot. “As a man, you already know you taking an L when y’all call us nice. It’s going to be a long ride back to Houma.”

“Like Yonique calls you nice?” Arianna asked.

“Now see. That ain’t even the same thing,” he shot back.

As he turned onto the street to head back to the interstate, the three of them started to argue about the nuances of how people describe others.

[Soapy]

driving across county lines for some abortion pills is demon behavior

[Captain Canada]

driving across county lines for some abortion pills is demon behavior

I couldn't quite piece together what I wanted to say but this feels about right

[Caesar]

driving across county lines for some abortion pills is demon behavior

driving across county lines for some abortion pills is demon behavior

I couldn't quite piece together what I wanted to say but this feels about right

Gotta do what you gotta do.

Also, parish*