Damaged Petals.

[djp73]

Page 69, nice.

[Soapy]

Page 69, nice.

18* for the real PPP folks

[Soapy]

Season 6, Episode 26
Brice sat in the corner chair, his thumb scrolling through his phone without really seeing what was on the screen. Instagram posts blurred together. Tweets about the upcoming game. A text from Justin asking if he wanted to grab food after this. He didn’t respond.

The SID—Katherine, though everyone just called her Ms. SID—stood near the door with the FOX Sports reporter. They were laughing about something, their voices low enough that Brice had to strain to hear them.

“God, how long has it been?” the reporter asked. She was mid-thirties maybe, dressed in that way reporters dressed when they were going to be on camera. Professional but fuckable. “Holiday Bowl?”

“At least,” Katherine said, her smile warm. “You still with the same crew?”

“Mostly. Jenkins moved to FOX proper last year.”

“Good for him.”

Brice’s thumb kept moving across his screen, but his attention was fully on their conversation now.

“So,” the reporter’s tone shifted slightly. “I was thinking we’d start with the season. Talk about getting a second crack at UCLA. Then transition into the more personal side.”

Katherine’s shoulders straightened just a fraction while her smile stayed in place.

“The personal side,” Katherine repeated.

“Yeah. You know, we’ll talk around the Notre Dame stuff from the summer, the brother. How he’s playing through it. How it’s motivated him.”

“Right.”

"I think it humanizes him. Gives viewers a reason to root for him beyond just the football."

Katherine nodded slowly, her hands clasped in front of her. “It is compelling.”

“So we’ll spend maybe five on that? Just give it some color."

“No.”

The word landed flat.

“Come on, Kat," she scoffed.

“We’re not doing that topic today,” Katherine’s smile never wavered. “We can focus on the rematch. Plenty of material there.”

"Hon, come on. This is the story. This is what makes people connect with him.”

“I understand that.”

“So why—“

“Because I said so.”

The silence stretched between them. Brice watched from his peripheral vision, his phone still in his hand, his thumb still moving across the screen like he wasn’t paying attention.

The reporter let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?"

“I’m going to protect my player,” Katherine said, her voice still pleasant. “Which is my job.”

“Your job is also to help us tell a good story.”

“And we will. Just not that story. Not today.”

The reporter stared at her for another second, then closed her notepad with a snap. “Fine. Football only.”

“I appreciate your understanding.”

“Sure.” The reporter moved toward the door, passing close enough to Brice that he could smell her perfume. Something floral. She glanced at him, gave a small nod, then disappeared into the hallway.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Brice looked up from his phone, meeting Katherine’s eyes. She was already watching him, her expression softer now that they were alone.

“Thank you,” he said.

Katherine moved closer, settling against the table near his chair. “It’s my job.”

“Still. I appreciate it.”

She studied him for a moment, her head tilted slightly. The harsh lighting in the green room caught the auburn in her hair, made her look younger than she probably was. Late forties, Brice guessed. Maybe early fifties. Hard to tell with women like her who knew how to take care of themselves. He definitely would, he thought to himself.

“You know she’s right though,” Katherine said finally. “If you’re ready to talk about it, it would endear you to people.”

Brice set his phone down on the armrest, leaning back in his chair. His shoulder protested the movement.

“I’m endearing enough,” he said, letting a smirk pull at his mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Katherine’s laugh was quiet, controlled. She pushed off from the table, smoothing her blazer.

“The interview’s in five minutes,” she said, moving toward the door.

…

Skylar had just set the diaper bag on the luggage rack when the knock came. She froze, her hand still on the strap, and glanced toward Baby James in his car seat on the bed. He was asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling in that rhythm that still made her hold her breath sometimes, waiting to make sure the next breath came.

The knock sounded again. Sharper this time.

She crossed the room and opened the door.

Liz stood in the hallway, her purse over her shoulder, her smile already in place. “Hey! Just wanted to check if you got settled in okay.”

Skylar’s own smile formed automatically. “Just started actually. Come in.”

Liz stepped past her into the room, her eyes sweeping across the space. The junior suite. She hid her delight before her eyes landed on the car seat. She was already moving toward it, her purse sliding off her shoulder onto the nearest chair.

“Oh my god,” Liz said softly, leaning over James. “He’s getting so big.”

Skylar closed the door, watching Liz’s hands hover over the baby like she was resisting the urge to wake him up just to hold him.

“You know,” Liz said, still looking at James, “Tom and I would be more than happy to take him for the night. What do you think, Jamie? Give mom a chance to get some good sleep in this nice hotel room daddy got her?"

“That’s really sweet,” Skylar said, keeping her voice light, ignoring the subtle reminder. “But I’m sure you and Tom would appreciate the night to yourselves too.”

She paused, letting the words settle before adding, “Aren’t you guys staying at the Ritz?”

Liz’s attention stayed fixed on James, her hand finally reaching down to touch his cheek with one finger. “Tom’s actually catching up with some old buddies tonight. They’re in town for the game.”

She straightened, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And Sophie decided to stay home. She’s with some friends back in South Bend.”

“Oh.”

“So I’m all alone in that big hotel room,” Liz continued, her tone shifting to something self-deprecating. “Lonely, honestly. Could use the company.”

Skylar studied Liz’s face, looking for the angle.

“Well,” Skylar heard herself say, “we can’t have that.”

Liz’s smile brightened.

“We could order room service,” Skylar offered, warming to the idea despite herself. “Maybe do some face masks? Get some champagne?”

She let her own smile turn playful. “Brice’s card is on the room, right? He’s good for it, isn’t he?”

Liz laughed and Skylar found herself laughing too.

“Oh, he’s definitely good for it,” Liz said, already pulling out her phone. “Let me see what they have for room service.”

…

Tom’s phone buzzed against the nightstand. He ignored it, his hand moving across Britney’s bare shoulder instead, fingers tracing the line of her collarbone. The city stretched out below them through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Britney shifted beside him, the hotel sheets rustling. "I wouldn’t mind living like this."

Tom laughed as he looked at the room around them, "Must be costing the taxpayers' a fortune. What business does the DA of South Bend have in Indianapolis anyway?”

Britney laughed. “As a tax-paying citizen of St. Joe County, you’ll be happy to know It’s on my personal card, actually.”

A pause.

“Well,” she corrected herself, “my campaign card.”

Tom’s hand dropped from her shoulder. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet finding the carpet.

“You’re doing it for real?” he asked finally.

“Yeah.” Britney’s voice came from behind him.

Tom stood. His clothes were scattered across the floor near the bathroom. He ignored them, moving toward the bar setup near the window.

“David’s a fucking pencil pusher anyway,” Britney continued. “Been sitting in that seat for twelve years doing absolutely nothing.”

Tom pulled a glass from the rack as he reached for the bourbon, unscrewing the cap slowly.

“Do you think it’s the right decision?” she asked.

Tom’s hand tightened on the bottle. He set it down carefully, bringing the glass to his lips. The bourbon burned going down.

“Not my place to say,” he finally answered.

“Tom.”

“What?”

“I’m asking for your honest opinion. As a friend.”

He took another drink, letting the silence stretch.

“I guess I wonder why,” he said finally, still facing the window. “You’re doing fine as DA.”

The sheets rustled again. He could picture her sitting up, could feel her eyes on his back.

“That’s the problem,” Britney said quietly. “Just fine. That’s not enough for me. Not anymore.”

The words settled into Tom’s chest. Just fine. He’d built a business that was just fine. Owned his own truck, made his own schedule, paid his bills. Just fine. And it had been enough. More than enough, really. He’d been content with just fine.

He’d taken everything he’d wanted for himself and pushed it onto Brice instead. Every dream of grandeur, every fantasy of being something more than just fine, he’d loaded it onto his son’s shoulders and told himself it was preparation. Training. Giving Brice opportunities Tom never had.

Lucas Oil Stadium rose up in the distance against the night sky. Tomorrow night, Brice would take that field. Would throw passes in front of tens of thousands of people. Millions more watching at home. The night would hopefully be more than just fine. It had to be.

…

Brice stood in the hallway outside his hotel room, his phone in his hand. The carpet under his feet was the industrial kind that hotels used, pattern designed to hide stains. Justin’s voice carried through the door behind him, yelling at someone through his headset about a missed play in whatever game he was losing.

Elijah leaned against the wall near the elevator, arms crossed. He’d started twelve games for the Boilermakers but none of them like the one on the horizon. Now he was a GA, which meant he got paid shit to babysit players like Brice and Justin.

“Man, come on,” Brice said, moving closer. “Just thirty minutes.”

Elijah shook his head. “Coach will have my ass.”

“Coach isn’t going to know.”

“That’s what everyone says right before Coach finds out.”

Brice glanced back toward his room. The sound of Justin’s voice rose in pitch, something about camping and being a bitch.

“Look,” Brice explain. “I just need to handle something real quick. I’ll be back before bed check. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Elijah studied him. "Thirty minutes. And I mean thirty. Not thirty-five. Not forty. Thirty.”

“Appreciate it.”

“And just you. Not your fucking butt buddy Justin. He talks too damn much."

Brice was already moving toward the elevator. He pressed the button, watching the numbers descend. The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. He stepped inside, pressed the button for the eighth floor, and watched the doors close on Elijah’s skeptical expression.

The eighth floor hallway was identical to his own. Same carpet. Same lighting. Same numbered doors stretching in both directions. He found 847 and knocked.

Movement inside. More than he expected. Voices, plural. Female voices. A pause. Then a muffled “shit” that he definitely heard through the door.

The door opened.

Serena stood there. Behind her, he could see into the room. Two other women sat on the bed, both looking toward the door. One was younger, maybe high school age. The other was mid-twenties, her hair in braids.

“Hey,” Serena said quickly, stepping out into the hallway and pulling the door mostly closed behind her. “I thought you said you had curfew?”

Brice’s brain was still processing the scene he’d glimpsed. “I do. I just—what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just—“ she glanced back at the door. “My cousin and sister stopped by.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t know they were in town."

Serena’s eyebrows drew together slightly. “They live here, Brice. I’m from Nap, remember?"

He didn’t remember her telling him that. Or maybe she had and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Right,” he said.

“I know I should’ve checked with you first,” Serena continued. “I don’t get to see them that often with their schedules and mine and I just thought—“

“It’s fine,” Brice cut her off. His face felt neutral. “It’s cool, it’s no problem. I get it.”

He took a half step back, his hand already moving toward his pocket for his phone.

“You could meet them,” Serena said. The words came out careful, tentative. “If you want.”

Brice laughed. Then he saw her face. She wasn’t joking.

His throat tightened. He cleared it, forcing his expression back to neutral.

“I need to head back anyway,” he said. “Curfew. Just wanted to stop by.”

Something flickered across Serena’s face but she smoothed it over quickly, forming a smile instead.

“Oh, okay," she said.

“Yeah."

They stood there for another second. The silence pressed between them, filled with all the things neither of them was saying. Brice could hear voices from inside the room, muffled but present.

“Goodnight,” he offered.

“Goodnight.”

…

“Don’t they check y’all rooms?”

Justin laughed, moving back to sit beside the girl that was sitting on his bed. “We can do what the fuck we want. I’m him and that’s Brice fucking Colton, bitch.”

Brice closed the bathroom door behind him. The girl on his bed shifted slightly, making room. He moved toward her, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed, his back against the headboard, clothes still on. He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, his back against the headboard, his clothes still on.

The television was playing something. Love is Blind. He stared at the screen without really seeing it.

The girl beside him shifted closer, her shoulder touching his, her hand finding his.

“This show is so much bullshit,” the girl on Justin’s bed said, her eyes on the television now. “Like, nobody falls in love that fast.”

“That’s the whole point though,” the girl beside Brice said. “It’s supposed to be about emotional connection.”

“Bitch, please. It’s about the check they get for being on TV.”

Justin laughed, his arm already around his girl’s shoulders. “Facts. Nobody doing shit for free.”

Brice’s eyes stayed on the television.

“Right?” the girl on Justin’s bed continued. “Like that one dude who—“

Justin stood abruptly, cutting her off mid-sentence. He jerked his head toward the bathroom, his eyes on Brice.

Brice looked at him. Justin jerked his head again, more insistent this time.

Brice sighed, untangling himself from the girl beside him.

The bathroom was small, barely enough room for both of them. Justin closed the door behind them, the voices from the television muffling.

“Alright,” Justin said, holding up his fist. “Let’s do this bro. Winner gets the bedroom.”

Brice stared at him. “Fuck no.”

“Come on, man. That’s the only way to make it fair."

“Fair?” Brice scoffed. “I’m the one who got Elijah to let the girls in. I should get the bedroom.”

“But I’m the one who invited them,” Justin countered.

“It was my idea in the first place.”

Justin’s grin widened. “Only because you struck out with Serena, my boy.”

Brice sucked his teeth.

“Bitch done brought her whole family thinking she found a lick,” Justin continued, laughing.

Brice forced a laugh too, even though the thought had already been circling in his head.

“Look,” Brice said, trying to redirect. “We could go half. I’ll step out with my girl for a bit, you do your thing. Won’t take you more than three minutes anyway.”

Justin flipped him off. “Nigga, fuck you. That’s all a nigga need if you know what you doing.”

“Then we switch. I get the bedroom, you and your girl wait in the hallway.”

“Nah.” Justin shook his head. “That’s how we get caught. Nothing gonna happen to you but I’ll lose some carries behind this shit nigga and a nigga ain’t going for that right now."

“Honestly,” Justin slowly suggested, “these girls might be down for us to flip them, bro.”

Brice laughed, the sound sharp and disbelieving. “I’m not running a train with you. I might like Gunna and shit but I’m not that Black, bro.”

“I wasn’t running a train with your faggot ass either nigga,” Justin shook his head. “We’ll be in our own beds, getting it cracking with our own girl. Then once we’re done enjoying one, we switch to the other.”

Brice’s eyes moved to the bathroom door, thinking about the girl on his bed. Then the girl on Justin’s bed.

“Your girl does have a nicer rack than mine,” Brice heard himself say.

Justin’s face broke into a wide grin. They both started laughing, the sound bouncing off the bathroom tiles. Justin clapped him on the shoulder, already moving toward the door.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Justin said, pulling the door open, "You better put in that work, nigga."

[Captain Canada]

The entire damn update.

[Caesar]

The whole family need fucking Jesus.

Brice’s horny ass can’t never not be horny.

Liz still plotting to snatch up that bih Skylar baby.

Tom need to do some self reflection on why he a POS.

Serena need to stand the fuck up.

Brice a nasty ass motherfucker.

Like I said. Everyone need Jesus

[djp73]

Page 69, nice.

18* for the real PPP folks

gross

[redsox907]

The whole family need fucking Jesus.

Brice’s horny ass can’t never not be horny.

Liz still plotting to snatch up that bih Skylar baby.

Tom need to do some self reflection on why he a POS.

Serena need to stand the fuck up.

Brice a nasty ass motherfucker.

Like I said. Everyone need Jesus

I see nothing wrong with anything in this statement

[Soapy]

The entire damn update.

The whole family need fucking Jesus.

Brice’s horny ass can’t never not be horny.

Liz still plotting to snatch up that bih Skylar baby.

Tom need to do some self reflection on why he a POS.

Serena need to stand the fuck up.

Brice a nasty ass motherfucker.

Like I said. Everyone need Jesus

I see nothing wrong with anything in this statement

yall know the vibes

[Soapy]

bump

[Soapy]