Hey Fighting Tiger
“Fuck,” Royce said, rubbing the back of his neck. The way the man was looking at him – as if he was being measured, assessed, as if this meeting was more than just a casual introduction like ones he’d experienced before – made any idea of portraying confidence fly out of the window. “I mean, shit. Sorry.”
The man nodded, seeming to pick up on Royce’s unease. “You look… a little apprehensive. Didn’t think we’d be here? Or that we’d be talking to you? Hopefully, it’s not because someone else got to you before we did.”
“Nah, it’s just that… LSU, me—”
“You didn’t think you were on the radar. I got you. Look, my name’s JR Belton. I’m just going to be honest with you and I hope you’re honest with me. Coach House wanted me here tonight specifically to see what it’s going to take for us to get you to stay here in Baton Rouge. He would’ve been here himself if we didn’t have Mississippi State tomorrow.”
Royce laughed. “You sure you got the right guy? Only place I’m playing at LSU at is on Madden.”
Belton laughed at Royce’s Madden comment. “Don’t sell yourself short. You play and practice right on our campus. We’ve been watching you since you showed up out of nowhere back in the summer. You’ve got that it factor on the field you can’t coach. Everyone can see that you aren’t taking this game we play for granted and that comes through in how you play.”
Royce tried to process the words, feeling both encouraged and caught off guard. He’d heard all the platitudes from coaches trying to convince him to choose their program, but this was different. This was LSU. The Louisiana State University, multiple time national champions, Heisman winners, prestige.
“Thing is,” Belton continued. “we looked into your story. So, I get why you would be surprised to be talking to me right now. But you know we’re coach with Coach Cunningham and the staff at U-High. They keep us in loop about players with potential. But when you come out here against a school like Catholic and play you did? That’s why we want you in purple and gold.”
“I guess I just ain’t think I was on that level,” Royce said as he let the words sink in. He’d missed all the vital moments in recruiting: junior days, camps, visits in his junior year, sending out highlights and film. All of that had been hamstrung by getting shot.
“C’mon, man. There’s no way you step on that field week in and week out and don’t think that you belong out there with the best of them. No need to be modest with me. I played. I know we all think we’re alpha males,” he said. “You’re a hometown kid. We know the value of that even if it’s not at quarterback. It’s not everyday, though, that LSU says ‘go talk to this kid that has played 2 games in the last year.’ That should tell you everything you need to know.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Royce said, struggling to relax into the conversation.”
“Well, look. Take my card, but I’m going to give Coach House’s number, too. He’s going to give you a call next week sometime. Just wanted to introduce myself and let you know that we want you on campus. Take your time, think it over. We’ll be in touch,” Belton handed Royce a card with another number written on the back.
Royce nodded as he looked at the card. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Of course,” the man said, giving Royce a final firm handshake. He began to walk away and then stopped, gesturing toward the field. “You know, they didn’t send Scott over the middle once after you cracked him in the first quarter? Keep doing your thing, Royce.”
…
“I need a bad bitch. I’m tryna use a rubber tonight!” Malik shouted as he, Royce, Donovan, Justin and Pat walked toward the parking lot, the celebrations for the big win only just getting started.
“We can’t go to no white folks party tonight, though. I’m not trying to be around them Catholic niggas all in they feelings,” Donovan said. “The big homie DeShawn got something down McKinley.”
“I’m in,” Justin said, shrugging.
Pat shrugged as well. “I ain’t got nothing better to do.”
“Send us the addy,” Malik said, gesturing to himself and Royce.
Royce shook his head. “Nah, I’m going to sit this one out. My leg’s fucking killing me. Referees were missing all that diving at a nigga knees them linemen were doing.”
“You ain’t lying,” Donovan said, dapping Royce up. “Still beat them cheating ass bitches.”
“You sure you not just scared to be in the hood after dark?” Malik asked, his tone mocking.
“Of all people to be saying that shit. We all know where you be spending your time, bruh,” Royce dapped up Malik, Pat and Justin.
They laughed as he walked away, ribbing him with a few more good-natured comments before heading off to their own car. Royce turned to watch them go, a small bit of guilt in his chest. His leg was hurting, but he’d spotted the figure sitting on a planter next to his car as soon as they left the stadium.
And that was the real reason for his decision to sit the night out.
Alix leaned back on her hands as Royce approached. Up close, his suspicions were confirmed, it was in fact his number on her chest.
“You don’t think that’s a little reckless?” Royce asked, leaning down to grab the hem of the makeshift jersey and stretching it so the number was more visible. “I’m not trying to get into fights on the sideline.”
She shrugged. “We’re friends, Royce. We hang out every day. Malik knows we’re friends. He’s with us every day. All my friends wore their boyfriends’ numbers. I wore a friend’s. It was either you or Malik, and Malik knows he pissed me off the other day.”
He sucked his teeth, opening the back door to throw his duffel bag into the car. “Yeah? That’s what you would’ve told him?”
“I would’ve told him that it’s none of his business. Because it’s not.” She stood up, positioning herself between Royce and the car. She looked up at him, her expression growing more serious. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is.”
“Are you busy next Sunday? There’s a family thing, a cookout or something. Can you come with me?”
“That’s some couple shit, Alix,” Royce laughed. “We ain’t no couple.”
She rolled her eyes. “Could you not be a dick? I’m being serious. Marc’s cousin just passed the bar or some shit and they’re throwing this thing for him. I’m close to his family, but I just can’t do it for hours, pretend I’m used to being around aunts, uncles, cousins and all that, you know?”
He could see the vulnerability she was trying to mask, the nervous look in her eyes stemming from the request.
“Yeah, I got you, but if you can’t play spades let me know now because you not about to embarrass me in front of Black folks.”
“I know how to play spades. Thank you very much,” she said, playfully hitting him, but her face lit up at his agreement. Then, without missing a beat. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Going fucking home and going to sleep.”
She ran her hand along his arm. “So, nothing? Can I come over then? Or are you going to be spending your night lying on your bed, kicking your feet, texting Sadie?”
He chuckled. “You funny. Yeah, you can. Tyrell and Rana went to some shit in Bay St. Louis anyway, and Roni’s at some friend’s house.”
“Oh, I don’t have to sneak in. Who would’ve thought that I just had to do some sneaky couple shit to be so lucky?”
They shared a laugh before Royce stepped back to allow her to move out of the way so he could close the back door and open the driver’s side. She walked around the car, slipping into the passenger seat.
By the time he’d sat down, she already had the AUX cable in her hand plugging it into her phone, the sounds of Fredo Bang coming through the speakers when he started the car.
“Why can’t you listen to fucking country music?” he asked.
She laughed. “Would you want me listening to country music around you?”
“No, but that ain’t the point.”
Alix reached forward, her hand hovering over the volume knob for a moment before she turned it down. “Who was that man you were talking to after the game? He looked like a coach or something.”
“Director of recruiting or some shit his card said,” he reached into his pocket and pulled the card, handing it to her.
She read the card, twisting it between her fingers before putting it into the cup holder. “LSU, huh? That’s some big shit, Royce. I know everyone would be proud of you if you went there after everything.”
Her words settled heavily in the air between them as Royce turned out of the parking lot. He nodded, feeling like responding to that comment would be a step over the boundaries of their relationship having already done so with his decision to join her at a family event.
Instead, he chose a simple, “Yeah.”
He turned the music back up as they drove down the streets – LSU’s famous bell tower looming large in the night sky.
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16857
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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Agent
- Posts: 11811
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
Dying to Live
That man SEC bound
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djp73
- Posts: 13184
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
can he make a touchdown saving tackle in death valley at night?
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7866
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
We almost there. About time you let Royce enjoy something for once
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16857
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Or is he?
Of course
He been enjoying Alix and yall haven’t been alright with that!Captain Canada wrote: ↑11 Nov 2024, 09:45We almost there. About time you let Royce enjoy something for once
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16857
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
World of Pain
Jeremi slouched low in the unforgiving plastic chair, his wrists cuffed to the table. The cuts along his face from last week’s beatdown were barely scabbed over, and the bruise darkening his left eye had settled into a deep purple. Across from him sat his public defender, Ms. Hargrove, in a neatly pressed suit that looked out of place in the damp, grimy room. Next to her sat Wandeneka, holding her phone in one and fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie with the other.
Ms. Hargrove cleared her throat as she shifted through the numerous case files that she had stacked on the table, finding the one for Jeremi. “Look, Jeremi, there’s no easy way to say this. We’ve been trying to get you transferred to a juvenile facility, but the answer’s been the same after every hearing—you’re facing capital offenses, and juvenile facilities aren’t an option in your case.”
Jeremi didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on a chipped patch of paint on the wall behind her. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing besides surviving to the next day. He’d stopped trying to fight back as it only made the beatings worse.
Wandeneka put her phone down, her shaky voice breaking the silence. “Baby, I know this is hard, but they’re doing you bad bad in here. You can’t keep letting them jump on you everyday. You need to look out for yourself.”
He clenched his fists but stayed quiet, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’ve spoken with Jaime’s lawyer,” Ms. Hargrove interjected. “He’s willing to take full responsibility for the shootings. But for that to work, you’d need to testify against him. You’d have to say that he forced you to stay in the car, holding you against your will. We can work with them to muddy the waters on the second set of ballistics. It’ll add charges for Jaime, but it won’t change his sentence. He’s a three-time loser. With the habitual offender enhancements, he's looking at life, Jeremi. With or without this.”
Jeremi shook his head slowly, his jaw tight. “I ain’t doing that to my brother. I ain’t no fucking snitch,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna make it worse on him.”
Wandeneka’s face hardened. She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “Think about Juwan. He needs his father. At home. You want him to grow up like you did in a single mama house? If you don’t do this, you’re looking at time that’ll take you away from him for good. And the way things going in here, you’re gonna be dead sooner than later. Please do it for him”
Jeremi’s face twisted in frustration, the weight of her words settling over him like a storm cloud. He looked over at the public defender. “Jaime said he’s willing to take all the charges? Everything?”
She nodded. “Yes. But it only works if you agree to testify against him. I’m going to be honest with you, Jeremi. Witnesses have come forward that put both of you at the scene and there is surveillance footage from a corner store. You’re not going to beat this at trial. For Jaime, this is a drop in the bucket. He’s going to plead guilty because a trial for him means facing the possibility of the needle. The attorney general is looking for a statement case since he’s running for governor.”
He shifted in his seat, jaw clenching and unclenching. But instead of answering, Jeremi stood abruptly, the shackles clanking loudly against the eye hook that held them. He turned to the guard by the door. “I’m done,” he shouted. “Take me back to my house.”
Wandeneka watched him go, a mix of anger and desperation on her face.
“He won’t listen,” she said to Ms. Hargrove, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with worry. “I just… I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him.”
“We’ll keep working on it, Wandenka,” the woman sighed, gathering her things. “But the clock is ticking. They’re not going to be looking to make a deal if they seat a jury. And I don’t like our chances when this is starting to get decided in the court of public opinion.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce tapped the top of his helmet, signaling a change to the play to the rest of the defense before he settled into his stance. His eyes locked on the quarterback, who was barking out adjustments at the line.
He looked down at the center’s hand, noticing the way he was already leaning back, ready to pass block. It was a small tell that the entire line had been giving away all night despite their coach running on the field and yelling obscenities at them for letting UHigh’s front seven wreck them due to their lack of ability.
The quarterback shouted his cadence before calling for the snap. Royce shot forward, easily slicing past the left guard with a swift swim move, his legs pumping. He darted past the running back before he even had a chance to realize that he needed to pick Royce up.
The quarterback never saw him coming as Royce drove his shoulder into his midsection, lifting him off his feet and violently driving him into the ground. The ball popped loose, rolling a few yards down the field.
Players from both sides jumped for the ball, but it was Tony, one of UHigh’s defensive linemen, that came away with it. The crowd erupted, roaring as Royce jumped up, flexing his arms and shouting over the thunderous applause.
He, Malik, Donovan, Dru and Justin met up as they ran toward the sideline, performing a celebratory handshake.
“Get these garbage ass niggas off the field!” Malik shouted as the rest of their teammates slapped Royce on the helmet, congratulating him on the sack.
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Lewis makes it 27-0.”
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Jackson makes it 34-0.”
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Gautreaux finds Marshall. UHigh 41, Mentorship Academy 0.”
…
“If you come up the middle, I’m sending you home in a body bag!” Royce shouted toward the Mentorship players as he crept toward the line of scrimmage. He pointed at the running back. “It’s gonna be Gospel singing and flower bringing, nigga!”
The Sharks had taken to running the clock down themselves, staving off a potential record beating as the Cubs seemed to score at will despite their missed extra point earlier in the game that made it seem like they were overlooking their opponents.
Mentorship had brought on their heavy package, no wide receivers, all tight ends and running backs. If the skinny players in green could be considered “heavy.”
Royce stepped away from the line, crouching low, his eyes darting between the quarterback and backs, noticing the way one of them shifted his weight forward, giving away that he’d be getting the ball.
Royce exchanged a glance with Donovan, pointing subtly, signaling he was attacking the inside gap.
He shot through the line as soon as the ball was snapped, crashing into the hole just as the running back took the handoff. The back lowered his shoulder to prepare for the collision, but Royce made no attempt to wrap up, launching himself at the running back. The clash of pads and helmets echoed through the stadium, an audible gasp filtering through the crowd.
The back folded backward awkwardly, his legs collapsing beneath his body. He somehow, though, managed to hold on to the ball as he rolled around on the turf. Royce sprang up to his feet and punched the air in celebration.
“What I told you, nigga?! This my field, bitch!” Royce shouted as his teammates swarmed him.
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Kilpatrick, the backup quarterback, takes it in himself. 48-0 Cubs.”
…
“It’s another touchdown for UHigh. Cubs, 55, Sharks 0.”
…
“University Lab takes pity on Mentorship and kneels on four straight plays, with the running clock, that’s going to be it from here at Mentorship. The final score, UHigh 62, Mentorship Academy 0. The Cubs showed no quarter to a team that lost 67-0 last week, putting another beating on the worst team in this district.”
Jeremi slouched low in the unforgiving plastic chair, his wrists cuffed to the table. The cuts along his face from last week’s beatdown were barely scabbed over, and the bruise darkening his left eye had settled into a deep purple. Across from him sat his public defender, Ms. Hargrove, in a neatly pressed suit that looked out of place in the damp, grimy room. Next to her sat Wandeneka, holding her phone in one and fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie with the other.
Ms. Hargrove cleared her throat as she shifted through the numerous case files that she had stacked on the table, finding the one for Jeremi. “Look, Jeremi, there’s no easy way to say this. We’ve been trying to get you transferred to a juvenile facility, but the answer’s been the same after every hearing—you’re facing capital offenses, and juvenile facilities aren’t an option in your case.”
Jeremi didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on a chipped patch of paint on the wall behind her. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing besides surviving to the next day. He’d stopped trying to fight back as it only made the beatings worse.
Wandeneka put her phone down, her shaky voice breaking the silence. “Baby, I know this is hard, but they’re doing you bad bad in here. You can’t keep letting them jump on you everyday. You need to look out for yourself.”
He clenched his fists but stayed quiet, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’ve spoken with Jaime’s lawyer,” Ms. Hargrove interjected. “He’s willing to take full responsibility for the shootings. But for that to work, you’d need to testify against him. You’d have to say that he forced you to stay in the car, holding you against your will. We can work with them to muddy the waters on the second set of ballistics. It’ll add charges for Jaime, but it won’t change his sentence. He’s a three-time loser. With the habitual offender enhancements, he's looking at life, Jeremi. With or without this.”
Jeremi shook his head slowly, his jaw tight. “I ain’t doing that to my brother. I ain’t no fucking snitch,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna make it worse on him.”
Wandeneka’s face hardened. She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “Think about Juwan. He needs his father. At home. You want him to grow up like you did in a single mama house? If you don’t do this, you’re looking at time that’ll take you away from him for good. And the way things going in here, you’re gonna be dead sooner than later. Please do it for him”
Jeremi’s face twisted in frustration, the weight of her words settling over him like a storm cloud. He looked over at the public defender. “Jaime said he’s willing to take all the charges? Everything?”
She nodded. “Yes. But it only works if you agree to testify against him. I’m going to be honest with you, Jeremi. Witnesses have come forward that put both of you at the scene and there is surveillance footage from a corner store. You’re not going to beat this at trial. For Jaime, this is a drop in the bucket. He’s going to plead guilty because a trial for him means facing the possibility of the needle. The attorney general is looking for a statement case since he’s running for governor.”
He shifted in his seat, jaw clenching and unclenching. But instead of answering, Jeremi stood abruptly, the shackles clanking loudly against the eye hook that held them. He turned to the guard by the door. “I’m done,” he shouted. “Take me back to my house.”
Wandeneka watched him go, a mix of anger and desperation on her face.
“He won’t listen,” she said to Ms. Hargrove, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with worry. “I just… I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him.”
“We’ll keep working on it, Wandenka,” the woman sighed, gathering her things. “But the clock is ticking. They’re not going to be looking to make a deal if they seat a jury. And I don’t like our chances when this is starting to get decided in the court of public opinion.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce tapped the top of his helmet, signaling a change to the play to the rest of the defense before he settled into his stance. His eyes locked on the quarterback, who was barking out adjustments at the line.
He looked down at the center’s hand, noticing the way he was already leaning back, ready to pass block. It was a small tell that the entire line had been giving away all night despite their coach running on the field and yelling obscenities at them for letting UHigh’s front seven wreck them due to their lack of ability.
The quarterback shouted his cadence before calling for the snap. Royce shot forward, easily slicing past the left guard with a swift swim move, his legs pumping. He darted past the running back before he even had a chance to realize that he needed to pick Royce up.
The quarterback never saw him coming as Royce drove his shoulder into his midsection, lifting him off his feet and violently driving him into the ground. The ball popped loose, rolling a few yards down the field.
Players from both sides jumped for the ball, but it was Tony, one of UHigh’s defensive linemen, that came away with it. The crowd erupted, roaring as Royce jumped up, flexing his arms and shouting over the thunderous applause.
He, Malik, Donovan, Dru and Justin met up as they ran toward the sideline, performing a celebratory handshake.
“Get these garbage ass niggas off the field!” Malik shouted as the rest of their teammates slapped Royce on the helmet, congratulating him on the sack.
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Lewis makes it 27-0.”
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Jackson makes it 34-0.”
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Gautreaux finds Marshall. UHigh 41, Mentorship Academy 0.”
…
“If you come up the middle, I’m sending you home in a body bag!” Royce shouted toward the Mentorship players as he crept toward the line of scrimmage. He pointed at the running back. “It’s gonna be Gospel singing and flower bringing, nigga!”
The Sharks had taken to running the clock down themselves, staving off a potential record beating as the Cubs seemed to score at will despite their missed extra point earlier in the game that made it seem like they were overlooking their opponents.
Mentorship had brought on their heavy package, no wide receivers, all tight ends and running backs. If the skinny players in green could be considered “heavy.”
Royce stepped away from the line, crouching low, his eyes darting between the quarterback and backs, noticing the way one of them shifted his weight forward, giving away that he’d be getting the ball.
Royce exchanged a glance with Donovan, pointing subtly, signaling he was attacking the inside gap.
He shot through the line as soon as the ball was snapped, crashing into the hole just as the running back took the handoff. The back lowered his shoulder to prepare for the collision, but Royce made no attempt to wrap up, launching himself at the running back. The clash of pads and helmets echoed through the stadium, an audible gasp filtering through the crowd.
The back folded backward awkwardly, his legs collapsing beneath his body. He somehow, though, managed to hold on to the ball as he rolled around on the turf. Royce sprang up to his feet and punched the air in celebration.
“What I told you, nigga?! This my field, bitch!” Royce shouted as his teammates swarmed him.
…
“Touchdown Cubs. Kilpatrick, the backup quarterback, takes it in himself. 48-0 Cubs.”
…
“It’s another touchdown for UHigh. Cubs, 55, Sharks 0.”
…
“University Lab takes pity on Mentorship and kneels on four straight plays, with the running clock, that’s going to be it from here at Mentorship. The final score, UHigh 62, Mentorship Academy 0. The Cubs showed no quarter to a team that lost 67-0 last week, putting another beating on the worst team in this district.”
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16857
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Good One
As the golden-hour light started to wash over the streets, Royce slowed to a stop at the end of a long line of cars stretching from a row of houses at the back of a neighborhood in one of Baton Rouge’s suburbs. Alix sat in the passenger seat, tapping her fingers in time with the music coming from the speakers.
From the curb, he could already make out the scene – fold-out tables, lawn chairs, coolers and the unmistakable smell of barbecue smoke drifting over the yard. Food trays gleamed under sheets of aluminum foil, and a steady hum of laughter and conversation filled the air.
“You said your mama ain’t gonna be here?” Royce asked as he took the keys out of the ignition.
Alix turned to him with a smirk. “Why? You scared to meet her? You already know my dad, so you got past the worst of it.”
“Nah, I was just wondering if you were going to be the only white person out here because it’s a lot of us over there,” he said, pointing to the people gathered in the yards of the houses.
She laughed. “I’m sure some of my cousins will have their girlfriends here. They’re just like you. What’s that one guy on social media call it? Bunny something?”
“Are you talking about Doctor fucking Umar?” Royce laughed. “Bunny hoppers. They’ve been snow bunnied. Been caught with skim milk.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. You’ll fit right in.”
They climbed out, and as they made their way through the yard, a handful of Alix’s family members nodded or waved. Royce didn’t know whether to return the gestures or not, being a guest – a guest of someone who’d joined the family through marriage no less – but the way Alix referred to all of them as cousins, aunts and uncles gave him the indication she’d long ago been accepted as part of the family.
As he surveyed the cookout, it reminded him of so many cookouts at Ma Beulah’s over the years back home in Houma. The mismatched chairs, the smoke, the tables, the men played spades and dominoes – it was like stepping back in time.
For a split second, he thought he’d walk around a corner to see Romeo sitting at a table with his cousins, still not knowing how to play spades and being ribbed for sandbagging, a grin on his face as he tried to talk his way out of being run from the table.
The ache in his chest was quick and sharp, and he forced himself to focus on the present, battling back a creeping desire to leave. Alix tugged on his arm, guiding him through a knot of people, introducing him to some of them.
A group of her cousins, all around their age, were hanging out near one of the tables. Alix led them over, sitting down in an empty chair at the table, introducing all of them to Royce.
“Got yourself a new man, huh?” one of them, Jasmine, asked, gesturing to Royce with the cup in her hand.
Royce could smell the faintest scent of alcohol from it and immediately began wondering where he could get a cup of liquid courage, not knowing how long he’d have to stick around before he satisfied his part of the deal.
“Gonna have to start calling her Snow White and the Seven Dudes if she keeps bringing a new motherfucker around every other week. I thought you were still fucking with Malik?” another one, Ashlee, asked. “That boy was in love with your ass.”
Alix rolled her eyes. “Y’all are exaggerating. Royce’s the first guy I’ve brought to something since Malik. But we’re not together because he’s afraid of commitment. Like all these rest of these guys out here.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Ashlee said.
Marie, one of her older cousins, raised an eyebrow, folding her arms with a grin. “That’s ‘cause he probably wants a strong, Black woman and not your narrow white ass.”
Royce laughed. “Shit, I’m the equal opportunity type. You just gotta let me know when you want it, love. We can talk later.”
“Love? Oh, she done found her one from the City?” Marie leaned over to Ashlee. “I’d trade these Baton Rouge niggas for a New Orleans nigga, too. I can’t even blame her, but I might take him myself.”
The whole group burst out laughing. Except for Alix, who swatted Royce on his leg with the back of her hand.
“I didn’t bring your ass here to pick up my family,” she said. She turned to the others. “That shit’s an act. He’s from the country.”
“Save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever they say, huh?” Jasmine laughed as she downed the rest of the liquid in the cup.
“I can be whatever you need me to be,” Royce said, turning on the charm.
“Girl, you better lock this boy down before he start running through her and getting all the aunties, too,” Marie laughed.
“Oh, don’t worry. If I need to reel him back in, I know what it takes,” Alix grinned. She moved over on the chair, looking at Royce tapping it. “Why don’t you sit down?”
What she was doing wasn’t lost on him, but he sat down all the same.
He leaned over to Jasmine. “What you had in that cup?”
“Henny. You drink?”
Royce fished his keys out of his pocket and dropped them in Alix’s lap.
…
The rest of the cookout passed by in a blur of food, laughter and easy conversation. Royce gradually eased into the rhythm of the gathering, trading stories with Alix’s family, laughing at their jokes, and feeling, for the first time in a while, like he was part of something steady and familiar.
Royce found himself involved in a game of spades with two of her cousins and an uncle, the rounds getting fiercer as they went through.
“I keep telling y’all that y’all ain’t got what y’all think y’all got,” Royce said as he looked at the two remaining cards in his hand. “Just gone and play it out, but I’m taking both these books.”
“How y’all letting new motherfuckers run the table?” Royce’s partner, Jerome, said, laughing as he took a swig from a beer next to him.
“Shut y’all young asses up and play,” the uncle, Shane, said, clearly frustrated that he was losing and had been for the majority of the game.
They played their second to last cards with Royce dropped the king of spades last, sweeping the book toward him. As they went through the last one, he stood up and slapped the ace of spades on the table.
“Told y’all, niggas!” he shouted.
“Nah, nah, he cheating or something. Run it back, run it back,” the other cousin, Cameron, said, gathering the card.
Royce shook his hand. “Nah, I’m out. I gotta go out on a high.”
He walked away to find where Alix had disappeared off to, much to their chagrin as they tried to shame him into giving them a chance to get some of their pride back for losing to him. He walked into one of the houses, hearing the sounds of women’s voices coming from the kitchen.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he noticed a pile of trash bags building up in the kitchen. Without a second thought, he grabbed them, tied them off and carried them out to the trash bins at the side of the house. He made a couple of trips, and on his last pass, caught the attention of the older women in the family who were busy washing dishes and packing away leftovers.
Aunt Jackie, a plump, silver-haired woman with a loud voice, glanced over her shoulder and spotted him. She grinned, turning to the other women. “Y’all see that? Of all the these fast ass girls to bring a boy who was raised right here, it was Alix. Ain’t even ask if we needed help, just did it. These other girls better take notes and stop messing with these knuckleheads that just be on that game Y2J or whatever.”
The other women laughed and nodded in agreement, while Royce ducked his head, feeling a bit awkward at the praise.
“Thank you, baby,” Aunt Jackie said, giving him a nod. “I know your mama was a good woman to have you helping like that.”
Royce faked a smile, the mention of his mother who he hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a year cutting into him, and nodded. “Yeah, I ain’t want y’all to think I was just coming here for free food or anything like that.”
She shook her head, laughing, before gesturing to a dish on the counter. “Got some sweet potato pie in there. You make sure you get you some before y’all leave, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, laughing himself, before heading back out to try to find Alix.
…
The evening wore on, and as the sun began to set, the air turned cooler, the yard now bathed in the last vestiges of sunlight. The younger kids were tossing a football back and forth, their shouts echoing through the air as they ran circles around the adults.
Royce and Alix found a quiet spot at the edge of the yard, sitting side by side on a low wooden bench. Royce leaned back, stretching his arms out along the bench, glancing over at her with a faint smile.
Alix tilted her head toward him, a soft look in her eyes. “Than’s for coming today. Really, I mean it. You didn’t have to.”
He gave a little shrug. “You know, if we’re going to do the pretending to be a couple shit then I’m gonna need more than just a ‘thanks, buddy’ after a day like this.”
She rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the chest. “Shut up.”
But she didn’t pull away, and for a moment, she looked up at him, her gaze lingering. Royce leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her cheek. Just as their lips met, a sudden blast of cold water hit them both from behind, drenching their backs and making them jump apart.
“What the fuck?” Royce spluttered, spinning around just in time to see some of the youngest cousins running past, giggling and waving Super Soakers.
Alix burst out laughing, wiping water from her face. “It’s a good thing I wore waterproof makeup today.”
“Nah, I don’t know if I’m coming back to this shit if them lil’ motherfuckers gonna be messing up my shit,” Royce said, shaking his head, pulling his shirt away from his back.
“Because that’s not from NovaMen or something,” Alix laughed.
Royce shook his head, starting to laugh. “That’s more reason to be mad. You know the shit gonna fall apart if it get wet! I wouldn’t be buying cheap shit if I had money!”
“Whatever. Anyway, you know you’re glad you came,” she said with a smirk, resting her head on his shoulder
He just grinned, glancing around the yard at everything, the laughter, the warmth of family. He felt, if only for a fleeting moment, that he was back in Houma, back before everything had changed, when everything felt whole.
As the golden-hour light started to wash over the streets, Royce slowed to a stop at the end of a long line of cars stretching from a row of houses at the back of a neighborhood in one of Baton Rouge’s suburbs. Alix sat in the passenger seat, tapping her fingers in time with the music coming from the speakers.
From the curb, he could already make out the scene – fold-out tables, lawn chairs, coolers and the unmistakable smell of barbecue smoke drifting over the yard. Food trays gleamed under sheets of aluminum foil, and a steady hum of laughter and conversation filled the air.
“You said your mama ain’t gonna be here?” Royce asked as he took the keys out of the ignition.
Alix turned to him with a smirk. “Why? You scared to meet her? You already know my dad, so you got past the worst of it.”
“Nah, I was just wondering if you were going to be the only white person out here because it’s a lot of us over there,” he said, pointing to the people gathered in the yards of the houses.
She laughed. “I’m sure some of my cousins will have their girlfriends here. They’re just like you. What’s that one guy on social media call it? Bunny something?”
“Are you talking about Doctor fucking Umar?” Royce laughed. “Bunny hoppers. They’ve been snow bunnied. Been caught with skim milk.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. You’ll fit right in.”
They climbed out, and as they made their way through the yard, a handful of Alix’s family members nodded or waved. Royce didn’t know whether to return the gestures or not, being a guest – a guest of someone who’d joined the family through marriage no less – but the way Alix referred to all of them as cousins, aunts and uncles gave him the indication she’d long ago been accepted as part of the family.
As he surveyed the cookout, it reminded him of so many cookouts at Ma Beulah’s over the years back home in Houma. The mismatched chairs, the smoke, the tables, the men played spades and dominoes – it was like stepping back in time.
For a split second, he thought he’d walk around a corner to see Romeo sitting at a table with his cousins, still not knowing how to play spades and being ribbed for sandbagging, a grin on his face as he tried to talk his way out of being run from the table.
The ache in his chest was quick and sharp, and he forced himself to focus on the present, battling back a creeping desire to leave. Alix tugged on his arm, guiding him through a knot of people, introducing him to some of them.
A group of her cousins, all around their age, were hanging out near one of the tables. Alix led them over, sitting down in an empty chair at the table, introducing all of them to Royce.
“Got yourself a new man, huh?” one of them, Jasmine, asked, gesturing to Royce with the cup in her hand.
Royce could smell the faintest scent of alcohol from it and immediately began wondering where he could get a cup of liquid courage, not knowing how long he’d have to stick around before he satisfied his part of the deal.
“Gonna have to start calling her Snow White and the Seven Dudes if she keeps bringing a new motherfucker around every other week. I thought you were still fucking with Malik?” another one, Ashlee, asked. “That boy was in love with your ass.”
Alix rolled her eyes. “Y’all are exaggerating. Royce’s the first guy I’ve brought to something since Malik. But we’re not together because he’s afraid of commitment. Like all these rest of these guys out here.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Ashlee said.
Marie, one of her older cousins, raised an eyebrow, folding her arms with a grin. “That’s ‘cause he probably wants a strong, Black woman and not your narrow white ass.”
Royce laughed. “Shit, I’m the equal opportunity type. You just gotta let me know when you want it, love. We can talk later.”
“Love? Oh, she done found her one from the City?” Marie leaned over to Ashlee. “I’d trade these Baton Rouge niggas for a New Orleans nigga, too. I can’t even blame her, but I might take him myself.”
The whole group burst out laughing. Except for Alix, who swatted Royce on his leg with the back of her hand.
“I didn’t bring your ass here to pick up my family,” she said. She turned to the others. “That shit’s an act. He’s from the country.”
“Save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever they say, huh?” Jasmine laughed as she downed the rest of the liquid in the cup.
“I can be whatever you need me to be,” Royce said, turning on the charm.
“Girl, you better lock this boy down before he start running through her and getting all the aunties, too,” Marie laughed.
“Oh, don’t worry. If I need to reel him back in, I know what it takes,” Alix grinned. She moved over on the chair, looking at Royce tapping it. “Why don’t you sit down?”
What she was doing wasn’t lost on him, but he sat down all the same.
He leaned over to Jasmine. “What you had in that cup?”
“Henny. You drink?”
Royce fished his keys out of his pocket and dropped them in Alix’s lap.
…
The rest of the cookout passed by in a blur of food, laughter and easy conversation. Royce gradually eased into the rhythm of the gathering, trading stories with Alix’s family, laughing at their jokes, and feeling, for the first time in a while, like he was part of something steady and familiar.
Royce found himself involved in a game of spades with two of her cousins and an uncle, the rounds getting fiercer as they went through.
“I keep telling y’all that y’all ain’t got what y’all think y’all got,” Royce said as he looked at the two remaining cards in his hand. “Just gone and play it out, but I’m taking both these books.”
“How y’all letting new motherfuckers run the table?” Royce’s partner, Jerome, said, laughing as he took a swig from a beer next to him.
“Shut y’all young asses up and play,” the uncle, Shane, said, clearly frustrated that he was losing and had been for the majority of the game.
They played their second to last cards with Royce dropped the king of spades last, sweeping the book toward him. As they went through the last one, he stood up and slapped the ace of spades on the table.
“Told y’all, niggas!” he shouted.
“Nah, nah, he cheating or something. Run it back, run it back,” the other cousin, Cameron, said, gathering the card.
Royce shook his hand. “Nah, I’m out. I gotta go out on a high.”
He walked away to find where Alix had disappeared off to, much to their chagrin as they tried to shame him into giving them a chance to get some of their pride back for losing to him. He walked into one of the houses, hearing the sounds of women’s voices coming from the kitchen.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he noticed a pile of trash bags building up in the kitchen. Without a second thought, he grabbed them, tied them off and carried them out to the trash bins at the side of the house. He made a couple of trips, and on his last pass, caught the attention of the older women in the family who were busy washing dishes and packing away leftovers.
Aunt Jackie, a plump, silver-haired woman with a loud voice, glanced over her shoulder and spotted him. She grinned, turning to the other women. “Y’all see that? Of all the these fast ass girls to bring a boy who was raised right here, it was Alix. Ain’t even ask if we needed help, just did it. These other girls better take notes and stop messing with these knuckleheads that just be on that game Y2J or whatever.”
The other women laughed and nodded in agreement, while Royce ducked his head, feeling a bit awkward at the praise.
“Thank you, baby,” Aunt Jackie said, giving him a nod. “I know your mama was a good woman to have you helping like that.”
Royce faked a smile, the mention of his mother who he hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a year cutting into him, and nodded. “Yeah, I ain’t want y’all to think I was just coming here for free food or anything like that.”
She shook her head, laughing, before gesturing to a dish on the counter. “Got some sweet potato pie in there. You make sure you get you some before y’all leave, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, laughing himself, before heading back out to try to find Alix.
…
The evening wore on, and as the sun began to set, the air turned cooler, the yard now bathed in the last vestiges of sunlight. The younger kids were tossing a football back and forth, their shouts echoing through the air as they ran circles around the adults.
Royce and Alix found a quiet spot at the edge of the yard, sitting side by side on a low wooden bench. Royce leaned back, stretching his arms out along the bench, glancing over at her with a faint smile.
Alix tilted her head toward him, a soft look in her eyes. “Than’s for coming today. Really, I mean it. You didn’t have to.”
He gave a little shrug. “You know, if we’re going to do the pretending to be a couple shit then I’m gonna need more than just a ‘thanks, buddy’ after a day like this.”
She rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the chest. “Shut up.”
But she didn’t pull away, and for a moment, she looked up at him, her gaze lingering. Royce leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her cheek. Just as their lips met, a sudden blast of cold water hit them both from behind, drenching their backs and making them jump apart.
“What the fuck?” Royce spluttered, spinning around just in time to see some of the youngest cousins running past, giggling and waving Super Soakers.
Alix burst out laughing, wiping water from her face. “It’s a good thing I wore waterproof makeup today.”
“Nah, I don’t know if I’m coming back to this shit if them lil’ motherfuckers gonna be messing up my shit,” Royce said, shaking his head, pulling his shirt away from his back.
“Because that’s not from NovaMen or something,” Alix laughed.
Royce shook his head, starting to laugh. “That’s more reason to be mad. You know the shit gonna fall apart if it get wet! I wouldn’t be buying cheap shit if I had money!”
“Whatever. Anyway, you know you’re glad you came,” she said with a smirk, resting her head on his shoulder
He just grinned, glancing around the yard at everything, the laughter, the warmth of family. He felt, if only for a fleeting moment, that he was back in Houma, back before everything had changed, when everything felt whole.
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djp73
- Posts: 13184
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
2 a days 
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7866
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
That anvil (Malik) gonna drop and spin his shit-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16857
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
This you?Captain Canada wrote: ↑11 Nov 2024, 09:45We almost there. About time you let Royce enjoy something for once