Trying to navigate the hood without a solid older male presence in his life, bro
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17023
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17023
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Boomered Soonered
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djp73
- Posts: 13271
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
crash and burn
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17023
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Gold Grills
Royce woke up to the sharp, merciless light of mid-morning slicing through the blinds. His head throbbed, each pulse feeling like a hammer pounding against his skull. The sour tang of stale liquor lingered in his mouth, and his stomach churned as he shifted on the bed. The desk and nightstand were cluttered with empty bottles and crumpled food wrappers, the remnants of last night’s attempt to drown his sorrows.
He rubbed his face, groaning as the memories came rushing back, LSU’s season-ending loss to Oklahoma played on a loop in his mind. He could still hear the crowd’s disappointment, the taunts from the Sooners, and the deafening silence in the locker room afterward. They had been beaten soundly, the Sooners exposing every flaw the Tigers had tried to mask all season.
It was a culmination of a last fourth of the season that showed that LSU was nowhere near ready to compete, nowhere near the heady heights that they were at five years ago when the Tigers became the best college football team of all-time with a drunk for a head coach. A single win against Vanderbilt with a pair of losses against rivals, a loss against an Oklahoma team that was middling at best. None of it felt good.
The worst part? Royce wasn’t a factor. He’d been invisible, a non-entity in one of the biggest games of the year. The thought made his chest tighten as his eyes shifted to the corner of the room where his gear rested, strewn haphazardly across the floor, the LSU logos gleaming mockingly in the sunlight.
Next to him, Shayla stirred, her arm draped across the pillows as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. She’d crashed at his place after a late-night hookup, a night that blurred into a haze of drinking, meaningless conversations, and fleeting attempts to forget. But now, the morning light and his hangover brought everything back into stark clarity.
The demons were already stirring.
Didn’t even show up for Rome this year, huh? one whispered, its voice cold and cutting. Too busy losing games and chasing clout to remember your own brother.
Royce squeezed his eyes shut, willing the voice away, but it only grew louder.
The anniversary came and went. No flowers on his grave. Didn’t call the family. Nothing. Guess you found something that was more important than the brother you got killed.
He sat up abruptly, the motion making his head spin. He needed to move, to do something, anything, to shake the thoughts clawing at his mind. The guilt over skipping the anniversary had been simmering for weeks, but after the Oklahoma loss, it boiled over, mixing with the disappointment of the season. LSU’s loss didn’t just end their season—it likely ended his shot at that $100,000 deal Billy had shown him.
He’d listened, waited just like Billy told him, held off until after the game to see if Royce’s value would climb higher. He said he would need to ball. Four tackles wasn’t balling. Instead of increasing his value, it had plummeted. No one would want to pay top dollar for a linebacker who disappeared in big games. The thought made Royce’s stomach twist.
Another opportunity wasted, the voice tauned. That’s something you’re real good at, ain’t it?
He glanced at Shayla, still asleep, her presence only adding to his frustration. She wasn’t the problem, but she wasn’t the solution either. She was just… there. A temporary distraction that had outlived its usefulness.
“Yo, Shayla,” Royce said, his voice hoarse as he nudged her shoulder. “You gotta get the fuck out.”
She groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get the fuck out,” Royce replied, his tone sharper than he intended. “I got some shit to do.”
Shayla set up slowly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “Seriously? You just kicking me out like that?”
Royce sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Real fucking serious. Ain’t you got a job or something? Got somewhere to be?”
Before she could respond, a loud series of knocks echoed through the apartment. Royce shook his head, waiting a beat to see if he could hear J.J. and Dewon on the other side of the apartment, but nothing but continued knocking returned.
“Yo, open up! I know you in there!” Meech’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.
Royce groaned, dragging himself to his feet and stumbling toward the door. HE swung it open to find Meech standing there, his gold fronts gleaming as he grinned widely.
“Nigga, I been trying to get ahold of you,” Meech said, stepping inside uninvited. His gaze shifted to Royce’s room where Shayla was now standing and adjusting her hair. “I see you ain’t too hard to find when cuzzo wants your attention, though.”
Royce leaned on the counter, propping his head up on his hand as he rubbed his eyes, his head pounding and his patience wearing thing. “What you want, man?”
Meech ignored the question, glancing around the messy apartment before turning back to Royce. “Y’all niggas lost me a whole grip of blue faces. Had money on y’all beating Alabama and Oklahoma. Now, I’m out $500.”
“Gambling’s like that sometimes,” Royce said, not looking up as he shifted to rubbing his temples.
“You right, lil’ brudda. I’m just messing with you anyway. Kinda,” Meech said, raising a hand in mock surrender and laughing.
Royce exhaled sharply, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “That’s all you came over here for? I got shit to do, man.”
Meech smirked, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “Nah, bruh. I just came to check up on you. I ain’t been hearing from you for a little minute and like I been telling you, the whole SSB behind you so they were wondering where ya head at.”
“Football shit keeps you busy. Poochie ain’t tell you?” Royce asked.
Meech glanced at Shayla again, his grin widening. “Nah, that nigga don’t call his people either. He out there in Tuscaloosa pouting because he can’t get on the field.” He reached into his pocket and flashed his teeth again, the light catching the intricate detailing. “Shit’s dancing, huh? Just got ‘em last week.”
Royce rubbed at his forehead with both hands, barely glancing Meech’s way. “Ain’t my style.”
Meech chuckled, clearly unbothered by Royce’s lack of enthusiasm. “I hear you. I know you new niggas prefer that little frilly shit on your teeth like hoes be having, but it’s cool. Anyway, I’m out. Shayla, you coming?”
Shayla hesitated, looking at Royce briefly before grabbing her bag and following Meech out the door. Royce shut it behind them, leaning against it as the silence settled over the apartment once more. His thoughts returned immediately, the voices mocking him for losing the Oklahoma game, for the season, for letting Romeo down.
He walked back into his room, brushing all the trash onto the floor with a promise to himself that he would pick it up later. Sinking down onto the bed, he grabbed his phone. Opening his messages, he scrolled to Alix’s name. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before typing out a simple message.
’You good?
The message sent, but the response never came, sitting on delivered. It hadn’t for weeks. Royce tossed the phone onto the night stand, his head falling into his hands as the weight of everything pressed down on him. The demons whispered louder now, their voices a constant reminder of every failure, every missed opportunity, every moment he’d let someone down.
Royce sat in the quiet, his breathing uneven as he stared at the mess around him. Somewhere in the chaos, there had to be a way forward. But for now, all he could was endure.
Royce woke up to the sharp, merciless light of mid-morning slicing through the blinds. His head throbbed, each pulse feeling like a hammer pounding against his skull. The sour tang of stale liquor lingered in his mouth, and his stomach churned as he shifted on the bed. The desk and nightstand were cluttered with empty bottles and crumpled food wrappers, the remnants of last night’s attempt to drown his sorrows.
He rubbed his face, groaning as the memories came rushing back, LSU’s season-ending loss to Oklahoma played on a loop in his mind. He could still hear the crowd’s disappointment, the taunts from the Sooners, and the deafening silence in the locker room afterward. They had been beaten soundly, the Sooners exposing every flaw the Tigers had tried to mask all season.
It was a culmination of a last fourth of the season that showed that LSU was nowhere near ready to compete, nowhere near the heady heights that they were at five years ago when the Tigers became the best college football team of all-time with a drunk for a head coach. A single win against Vanderbilt with a pair of losses against rivals, a loss against an Oklahoma team that was middling at best. None of it felt good.
The worst part? Royce wasn’t a factor. He’d been invisible, a non-entity in one of the biggest games of the year. The thought made his chest tighten as his eyes shifted to the corner of the room where his gear rested, strewn haphazardly across the floor, the LSU logos gleaming mockingly in the sunlight.
Next to him, Shayla stirred, her arm draped across the pillows as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. She’d crashed at his place after a late-night hookup, a night that blurred into a haze of drinking, meaningless conversations, and fleeting attempts to forget. But now, the morning light and his hangover brought everything back into stark clarity.
The demons were already stirring.
Didn’t even show up for Rome this year, huh? one whispered, its voice cold and cutting. Too busy losing games and chasing clout to remember your own brother.
Royce squeezed his eyes shut, willing the voice away, but it only grew louder.
The anniversary came and went. No flowers on his grave. Didn’t call the family. Nothing. Guess you found something that was more important than the brother you got killed.
He sat up abruptly, the motion making his head spin. He needed to move, to do something, anything, to shake the thoughts clawing at his mind. The guilt over skipping the anniversary had been simmering for weeks, but after the Oklahoma loss, it boiled over, mixing with the disappointment of the season. LSU’s loss didn’t just end their season—it likely ended his shot at that $100,000 deal Billy had shown him.
He’d listened, waited just like Billy told him, held off until after the game to see if Royce’s value would climb higher. He said he would need to ball. Four tackles wasn’t balling. Instead of increasing his value, it had plummeted. No one would want to pay top dollar for a linebacker who disappeared in big games. The thought made Royce’s stomach twist.
Another opportunity wasted, the voice tauned. That’s something you’re real good at, ain’t it?
He glanced at Shayla, still asleep, her presence only adding to his frustration. She wasn’t the problem, but she wasn’t the solution either. She was just… there. A temporary distraction that had outlived its usefulness.
“Yo, Shayla,” Royce said, his voice hoarse as he nudged her shoulder. “You gotta get the fuck out.”
She groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get the fuck out,” Royce replied, his tone sharper than he intended. “I got some shit to do.”
Shayla set up slowly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “Seriously? You just kicking me out like that?”
Royce sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Real fucking serious. Ain’t you got a job or something? Got somewhere to be?”
Before she could respond, a loud series of knocks echoed through the apartment. Royce shook his head, waiting a beat to see if he could hear J.J. and Dewon on the other side of the apartment, but nothing but continued knocking returned.
“Yo, open up! I know you in there!” Meech’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.
Royce groaned, dragging himself to his feet and stumbling toward the door. HE swung it open to find Meech standing there, his gold fronts gleaming as he grinned widely.
“Nigga, I been trying to get ahold of you,” Meech said, stepping inside uninvited. His gaze shifted to Royce’s room where Shayla was now standing and adjusting her hair. “I see you ain’t too hard to find when cuzzo wants your attention, though.”
Royce leaned on the counter, propping his head up on his hand as he rubbed his eyes, his head pounding and his patience wearing thing. “What you want, man?”
Meech ignored the question, glancing around the messy apartment before turning back to Royce. “Y’all niggas lost me a whole grip of blue faces. Had money on y’all beating Alabama and Oklahoma. Now, I’m out $500.”
“Gambling’s like that sometimes,” Royce said, not looking up as he shifted to rubbing his temples.
“You right, lil’ brudda. I’m just messing with you anyway. Kinda,” Meech said, raising a hand in mock surrender and laughing.
Royce exhaled sharply, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “That’s all you came over here for? I got shit to do, man.”
Meech smirked, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “Nah, bruh. I just came to check up on you. I ain’t been hearing from you for a little minute and like I been telling you, the whole SSB behind you so they were wondering where ya head at.”
“Football shit keeps you busy. Poochie ain’t tell you?” Royce asked.
Meech glanced at Shayla again, his grin widening. “Nah, that nigga don’t call his people either. He out there in Tuscaloosa pouting because he can’t get on the field.” He reached into his pocket and flashed his teeth again, the light catching the intricate detailing. “Shit’s dancing, huh? Just got ‘em last week.”
Royce rubbed at his forehead with both hands, barely glancing Meech’s way. “Ain’t my style.”
Meech chuckled, clearly unbothered by Royce’s lack of enthusiasm. “I hear you. I know you new niggas prefer that little frilly shit on your teeth like hoes be having, but it’s cool. Anyway, I’m out. Shayla, you coming?”
Shayla hesitated, looking at Royce briefly before grabbing her bag and following Meech out the door. Royce shut it behind them, leaning against it as the silence settled over the apartment once more. His thoughts returned immediately, the voices mocking him for losing the Oklahoma game, for the season, for letting Romeo down.
He walked back into his room, brushing all the trash onto the floor with a promise to himself that he would pick it up later. Sinking down onto the bed, he grabbed his phone. Opening his messages, he scrolled to Alix’s name. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before typing out a simple message.
’You good?
The message sent, but the response never came, sitting on delivered. It hadn’t for weeks. Royce tossed the phone onto the night stand, his head falling into his hands as the weight of everything pressed down on him. The demons whispered louder now, their voices a constant reminder of every failure, every missed opportunity, every moment he’d let someone down.
Royce sat in the quiet, his breathing uneven as he stared at the mess around him. Somewhere in the chaos, there had to be a way forward. But for now, all he could was endure.
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17023
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Six, Six, Six
The ride to Billy’s office felt like it stretched forever, even though Royce barely hit a single red light. The city moved lazily on that Monday morning, but Royce’s mind raced. The Oklahoma game, hell every loss that season, replayed in his head like a nightmare on a loop: missed tackles, blown coverage and the sinking feeling of being just another player in a game that mattered more than most. For all the hype surrounding him this season, Royce had been nothing short invisible when it counted most.
The thought gnawed at him like a splinter. The contract Billy had shown him before the game—the one that seemed to promise a secure future—felt like a cruel joke now. LSU’s collective wouldn’t still want him after he disappeared in every big game LSU had played. That number he couldn’t stop thinking about, $100,000, was probably gone. Hell, it might not have been real in the first place.
And yet, he found himself steering into the office lot, parking the Audi, and walking into the building. Because Billy had called him to come in, and Royce was holding onto that slim thread of hope.
…
Billy’s office was immaculate as usual. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows reflected off every surface, from the glass desk to the polished gold accents on the bookshelves. The room screamed success, and so did Billy. Dressed sharp as always, his gold watch catching the light. Billy sat behind his desk with his signature smirk as Royce walked in.
“Alright, Royce, my man,” Billy greeted, his voice smooth and confident. “Take a seat.”
Royce hesitated for a moment before dropping into the plush chair across from him. His eyes flitted to the framed photos lining the walls—athletes posing with oversized checks, standing beside shiny cars, or decked out in designer clothes. He’d stared at those same photos before, but now they felt like a taunt, a reminder of where he thought he was heading before the season went sideways.
Billy didn’t waste time. He slid a thick folder across the desk, the sound of paper against glass breaking the silence. “Take a look at that.”
Royce’s stomach clenched as he reached for the folder. His fingers lingered on the edge for a moment before he opened it, his eyes scanning the first sheet. What he saw made him sit up straighter.
$150,000.
“What the fuck? You fucking serious?” Royce blurted, the shock evident in his voice. “This is still on the table? And it went up?
Billy leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as though the answer was obvious. “Of course it went up. You think I’d let them paly my guy for less?” Look, y’all might’ve had a rough end to the season, but you still broke the record, you’re a finalist for major honors, probably looking at All-American, All-SEC. That’s currency, Royce. And with Kelly’s seat on fire, they’re gonna need you even more next year. Greg’s gone. Harold’s probably gone. You’re not just a player. You’re a symbol of what’s next at LSU.”
Royce shook his head, the weight of disbelief and relief settling in his chest. “Man, I thought after Oklahoma…”
Billy cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Forget Oklahoma. That game’s old news. Hell, this is probably because of Oklahoma. But what matters now is perception, and you’re still a hot ticket. You sign this, and we’re locked in. No transfer portal rumors. No distractions. Just you and LSU.”
Royce grabbed the pen Billy slid across the desk, but Billy stopped him.
“You about to tell me to wait again?” Royce asked. “Because this ain’t wait money.”
“I just want you to make sure that you want to spend another season here. A lot of kids like to venture out, see what they can get on the market.”
“Shit, I’m Louisiana through and through, Billy. Ain’t known nothing but these bayous and shit. Don’t feel comfortable with nothing but these bayous and shit,” Royce said.
“Well, then. Sign it,” Billy said, gesturing toward the contract.
Royce didn’t need to be told twice. He signed his name in bold strokes. The moment the pen left the paper, he leaned back in the chair, exhaling deeply. The tension that had gripped him for weeks finally began to ease, even if just a little.”
Billy reached across the desk and dapped Royce up, a movement that he’d clearly practiced millions of times to “connect” with the athletes he represented, his grin widening. “That’s what I’m talking about! My guy. You’re the real deal now. Got that ‘six, six’, six’ everyone online’s looking for.”
Royce raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a grin despite himself. “What?”
“You know,” Billy laughed. “Six feet tall, six figures, six-pack abs. I’m not going to lie to you, kid. Your story is easy to sell. But after this season? NIL gold. A walking brand.”
Royce chuckled, shaking his head at Billy’s antics. “I could be whatever as long as it keeps make me money.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Billy said. He gestured toward the keys on the desk where Royce had left them, the sleek Audi logo glinting under the sunlight. “And speaking of walking brands, you can keep the car.”
Royce’s grin widened as he leaned forward, grabbing the keys. “For real?”
Billy nodded, his smirk never fading. “Yeah, you earned that. Consider it paid for with the cut I got for the deal.”
Royce twisted the keys between his fingers, letting the weight of them settle in his palm before looking back at Billy. “You know, you’re alright, man. I think I’ll keep you around.”
Billy laughed, pointing at Royce. “Because you know I’m going to get you that paper. Now go celebrate but keep it clean. You’ve got a lot more eyes on you now. Bigger money’s watching.”
Royce stood, tucking the folder under his arm and pocketing the keys. He’d come in expecting to leave empty-handed, but now, walking out of the office, the weight of the season didn’t feel as crushing.
~~~~~~~~~~
The midday sun filtered through the thin curtains of her an Arianna’s apartment, casting a golden glow over the cluttered living room. Empty coffee mugs sat abandoned on the table, a half-folded pile of laundry spilled over the couch, and an open laptop hummer softly on the armrest. The room carried the cozy chaos of two people juggling school, work and life in general.
Toni sat cross-legged on the couch, her attention fixed on her phone. She scrolled absentmindedly, half-listening to Deshawn, who was leaning forward on the armchair across from her, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.
“It’s big fucking shit,” Deshawn said, his tone insistent. “Might be able to get a couple grand in NIL if we win. That shit would be nice.”
“Mm-hmm,” Toni mumbled, her eyes glued to her screen.
Deshawn paused mid-sentence, his enthusiasm dimming. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “You ain’t even listening.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” Toni said, still scrolling.
“You heard me, or you fucking listened?” Deshawn pressed, his tone sharp.
Toni sighed, finally looking up. “I heard you, okay? You’re playing in some big game. I’m excited for you.”
Deshawn’s face twisted in frustration, and he shook his head. “You don’t care, do you? You never do. If it ain’t about you, you couldn’t give a fuck less.”
“That’s not true,” Toni replied, setting her phone down with a small thud. “I’m just—”
“It is true,” Deshawn interrupted, his voice rising. “All you care about is you. You don’t give a fuck about what I’m doing or what I got going on. We supposed to be together and you never supporting me. You go here and ain’t never been to a game, but you ran up there to an LSU game.”
“Are you serious right now?” Toni shot back, her eyes narrowing. “Royce is my fucking cousin. Of course, I went to a game for him. Ask anyone on this campus if they’d rather watch LSU in Baton Rouge or booty ass UL. And you’re the one who came here, I didn’t ask you to.”
Deshawn’s jaw tightened, and he stood up abruptly, his posture tense. “I came here because I thought we were good, and I wanted you to be happy for me.”
Toni pushed herself off the couch, standing toe-to-toe with him. “How am I supposed to be happy for you when you come up here and start acting like this? You don’t think we all ain’t got shit going on? This shit getting real old.”
“You always do this,” Deshawn said, his voice dropping but still laced with anger. “Always turning into that bitch Arianna when shit get real.”
“Bitch?” Toni let out a bitter laugh. “Deshawn, we’re not even---”
The slap came out of nowhere.
The sharp crack echoed through the small apartment, cutting through the ambient hum of the laptop and the distant sound of cars passing outside. Toni stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek as the stinging pain radiated across her face. Her eyes widened, filling with shock and anger.
Deshawn’s face froze, his expression shifting from anger to regret in an instant. His hands twitched at his sides, and his voice faltered. “Toni, I didn’t mean—”
“Get the fuck out,” Toni said, her voice low and trembling.
“Toni, come on,” Deshawn pleaded, stepping toward her, but she held her ground, her hand still pressed to her cheek.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
Deshawn’s lips tightened, and after a moment’s hesitation, he pointed at her, his tone harsh again. “You better not fucking tell anyone about this. You hear me?”
The door slammed shut behind him, the force of it rattling the picture frames on the wall. The silence that followed was deafening, save for the faint buzz of the laptop still idling on the armrest.
Toni stood frozen in place, her heart pounding and her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her mind raced, replaying the moment over and over. The sting on her cheek was nothing compared to the turmoil inside her chest. Slowly, she moved to the couch and sank into it, her legs giving out beneath her.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. She unlocked it on the third attempt, staring at the screen. Who could she even call? Arianna? Royce? Each option felt impossible, the weight of Deshawn’s threat hanging over her like a storm cloud.
She clenched her jaw, dropping the phone onto the cushion beside her. She felt trapped, her world tilting as if it had lost its foundation. For a long moment, she sat in the quiet, the room now feeling too small, too suffocating.
Her fingers brushed against her cheek again, the pain sharp enough to make her flinch. She blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill. But as the minutes stretched one, she realized she couldn’t hold them back anymore.
Toni curled into herself, her shoulders shaking as the tears finally came.
The ride to Billy’s office felt like it stretched forever, even though Royce barely hit a single red light. The city moved lazily on that Monday morning, but Royce’s mind raced. The Oklahoma game, hell every loss that season, replayed in his head like a nightmare on a loop: missed tackles, blown coverage and the sinking feeling of being just another player in a game that mattered more than most. For all the hype surrounding him this season, Royce had been nothing short invisible when it counted most.
The thought gnawed at him like a splinter. The contract Billy had shown him before the game—the one that seemed to promise a secure future—felt like a cruel joke now. LSU’s collective wouldn’t still want him after he disappeared in every big game LSU had played. That number he couldn’t stop thinking about, $100,000, was probably gone. Hell, it might not have been real in the first place.
And yet, he found himself steering into the office lot, parking the Audi, and walking into the building. Because Billy had called him to come in, and Royce was holding onto that slim thread of hope.
…
Billy’s office was immaculate as usual. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows reflected off every surface, from the glass desk to the polished gold accents on the bookshelves. The room screamed success, and so did Billy. Dressed sharp as always, his gold watch catching the light. Billy sat behind his desk with his signature smirk as Royce walked in.
“Alright, Royce, my man,” Billy greeted, his voice smooth and confident. “Take a seat.”
Royce hesitated for a moment before dropping into the plush chair across from him. His eyes flitted to the framed photos lining the walls—athletes posing with oversized checks, standing beside shiny cars, or decked out in designer clothes. He’d stared at those same photos before, but now they felt like a taunt, a reminder of where he thought he was heading before the season went sideways.
Billy didn’t waste time. He slid a thick folder across the desk, the sound of paper against glass breaking the silence. “Take a look at that.”
Royce’s stomach clenched as he reached for the folder. His fingers lingered on the edge for a moment before he opened it, his eyes scanning the first sheet. What he saw made him sit up straighter.
$150,000.
“What the fuck? You fucking serious?” Royce blurted, the shock evident in his voice. “This is still on the table? And it went up?
Billy leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as though the answer was obvious. “Of course it went up. You think I’d let them paly my guy for less?” Look, y’all might’ve had a rough end to the season, but you still broke the record, you’re a finalist for major honors, probably looking at All-American, All-SEC. That’s currency, Royce. And with Kelly’s seat on fire, they’re gonna need you even more next year. Greg’s gone. Harold’s probably gone. You’re not just a player. You’re a symbol of what’s next at LSU.”
Royce shook his head, the weight of disbelief and relief settling in his chest. “Man, I thought after Oklahoma…”
Billy cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Forget Oklahoma. That game’s old news. Hell, this is probably because of Oklahoma. But what matters now is perception, and you’re still a hot ticket. You sign this, and we’re locked in. No transfer portal rumors. No distractions. Just you and LSU.”
Royce grabbed the pen Billy slid across the desk, but Billy stopped him.
“You about to tell me to wait again?” Royce asked. “Because this ain’t wait money.”
“I just want you to make sure that you want to spend another season here. A lot of kids like to venture out, see what they can get on the market.”
“Shit, I’m Louisiana through and through, Billy. Ain’t known nothing but these bayous and shit. Don’t feel comfortable with nothing but these bayous and shit,” Royce said.
“Well, then. Sign it,” Billy said, gesturing toward the contract.
Royce didn’t need to be told twice. He signed his name in bold strokes. The moment the pen left the paper, he leaned back in the chair, exhaling deeply. The tension that had gripped him for weeks finally began to ease, even if just a little.”
Billy reached across the desk and dapped Royce up, a movement that he’d clearly practiced millions of times to “connect” with the athletes he represented, his grin widening. “That’s what I’m talking about! My guy. You’re the real deal now. Got that ‘six, six’, six’ everyone online’s looking for.”
Royce raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a grin despite himself. “What?”
“You know,” Billy laughed. “Six feet tall, six figures, six-pack abs. I’m not going to lie to you, kid. Your story is easy to sell. But after this season? NIL gold. A walking brand.”
Royce chuckled, shaking his head at Billy’s antics. “I could be whatever as long as it keeps make me money.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Billy said. He gestured toward the keys on the desk where Royce had left them, the sleek Audi logo glinting under the sunlight. “And speaking of walking brands, you can keep the car.”
Royce’s grin widened as he leaned forward, grabbing the keys. “For real?”
Billy nodded, his smirk never fading. “Yeah, you earned that. Consider it paid for with the cut I got for the deal.”
Royce twisted the keys between his fingers, letting the weight of them settle in his palm before looking back at Billy. “You know, you’re alright, man. I think I’ll keep you around.”
Billy laughed, pointing at Royce. “Because you know I’m going to get you that paper. Now go celebrate but keep it clean. You’ve got a lot more eyes on you now. Bigger money’s watching.”
Royce stood, tucking the folder under his arm and pocketing the keys. He’d come in expecting to leave empty-handed, but now, walking out of the office, the weight of the season didn’t feel as crushing.
~~~~~~~~~~
The midday sun filtered through the thin curtains of her an Arianna’s apartment, casting a golden glow over the cluttered living room. Empty coffee mugs sat abandoned on the table, a half-folded pile of laundry spilled over the couch, and an open laptop hummer softly on the armrest. The room carried the cozy chaos of two people juggling school, work and life in general.
Toni sat cross-legged on the couch, her attention fixed on her phone. She scrolled absentmindedly, half-listening to Deshawn, who was leaning forward on the armchair across from her, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.
“It’s big fucking shit,” Deshawn said, his tone insistent. “Might be able to get a couple grand in NIL if we win. That shit would be nice.”
“Mm-hmm,” Toni mumbled, her eyes glued to her screen.
Deshawn paused mid-sentence, his enthusiasm dimming. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “You ain’t even listening.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” Toni said, still scrolling.
“You heard me, or you fucking listened?” Deshawn pressed, his tone sharp.
Toni sighed, finally looking up. “I heard you, okay? You’re playing in some big game. I’m excited for you.”
Deshawn’s face twisted in frustration, and he shook his head. “You don’t care, do you? You never do. If it ain’t about you, you couldn’t give a fuck less.”
“That’s not true,” Toni replied, setting her phone down with a small thud. “I’m just—”
“It is true,” Deshawn interrupted, his voice rising. “All you care about is you. You don’t give a fuck about what I’m doing or what I got going on. We supposed to be together and you never supporting me. You go here and ain’t never been to a game, but you ran up there to an LSU game.”
“Are you serious right now?” Toni shot back, her eyes narrowing. “Royce is my fucking cousin. Of course, I went to a game for him. Ask anyone on this campus if they’d rather watch LSU in Baton Rouge or booty ass UL. And you’re the one who came here, I didn’t ask you to.”
Deshawn’s jaw tightened, and he stood up abruptly, his posture tense. “I came here because I thought we were good, and I wanted you to be happy for me.”
Toni pushed herself off the couch, standing toe-to-toe with him. “How am I supposed to be happy for you when you come up here and start acting like this? You don’t think we all ain’t got shit going on? This shit getting real old.”
“You always do this,” Deshawn said, his voice dropping but still laced with anger. “Always turning into that bitch Arianna when shit get real.”
“Bitch?” Toni let out a bitter laugh. “Deshawn, we’re not even---”
The slap came out of nowhere.
The sharp crack echoed through the small apartment, cutting through the ambient hum of the laptop and the distant sound of cars passing outside. Toni stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek as the stinging pain radiated across her face. Her eyes widened, filling with shock and anger.
Deshawn’s face froze, his expression shifting from anger to regret in an instant. His hands twitched at his sides, and his voice faltered. “Toni, I didn’t mean—”
“Get the fuck out,” Toni said, her voice low and trembling.
“Toni, come on,” Deshawn pleaded, stepping toward her, but she held her ground, her hand still pressed to her cheek.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
Deshawn’s lips tightened, and after a moment’s hesitation, he pointed at her, his tone harsh again. “You better not fucking tell anyone about this. You hear me?”
The door slammed shut behind him, the force of it rattling the picture frames on the wall. The silence that followed was deafening, save for the faint buzz of the laptop still idling on the armrest.
Toni stood frozen in place, her heart pounding and her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her mind raced, replaying the moment over and over. The sting on her cheek was nothing compared to the turmoil inside her chest. Slowly, she moved to the couch and sank into it, her legs giving out beneath her.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. She unlocked it on the third attempt, staring at the screen. Who could she even call? Arianna? Royce? Each option felt impossible, the weight of Deshawn’s threat hanging over her like a storm cloud.
She clenched her jaw, dropping the phone onto the cushion beside her. She felt trapped, her world tilting as if it had lost its foundation. For a long moment, she sat in the quiet, the room now feeling too small, too suffocating.
Her fingers brushed against her cheek again, the pain sharp enough to make her flinch. She blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill. But as the minutes stretched one, she realized she couldn’t hold them back anymore.
Toni curled into herself, her shoulders shaking as the tears finally came.
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James
- Posts: 4466
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 08:53
Dying to Live
Boomer
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The JZA
- Posts: 9445
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
Dying to Live
BOOOOY WHEN ROYCE FINDS OUT!!“Bitch?” Toni let out a bitter laugh. “Deshawn, we’re not even---”
The slap came out of nowhere.
The sharp crack echoed through the small apartment, cutting through the ambient hum of the laptop and the distant sound of cars passing outside. Toni stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek as the stinging pain radiated across her face. Her eyes widened, filling with shock and anger.
Deshawn’s face froze, his expression shifting from anger to regret in an instant. His hands twitched at his sides, and his voice faltered. “Toni, I didn’t mean—”
Deshawn has exited the chat
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 8003
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Our boy Deshawn about to be taking a dirt nap huh
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djp73
- Posts: 13271
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
DeShawn = 
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17023
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
The JZA wrote: ↑18 Dec 2024, 23:45BOOOOY WHEN ROYCE FINDS OUT!!“Bitch?” Toni let out a bitter laugh. “Deshawn, we’re not even---”
The slap came out of nowhere.
The sharp crack echoed through the small apartment, cutting through the ambient hum of the laptop and the distant sound of cars passing outside. Toni stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek as the stinging pain radiated across her face. Her eyes widened, filling with shock and anger.
Deshawn’s face froze, his expression shifting from anger to regret in an instant. His hands twitched at his sides, and his voice faltered. “Toni, I didn’t mean—”
Deshawn has exited the chat
