Caine settled into his stance, scanning the Houston defense as they shouted adjustments to one another, attempting to match what the Eagles were doing. He rubbed his hands together as he went through his cadence.
“Green Eighty! Green Eighty 80!”
A linebacker rolled down toward the line of scrimmage, showing blitz. Caine stepped forward, giving an adjustment to the offensive line before stepping back and leaning down for the snap.
“Ready, go!”
Caine caught the snap cleanly, rotating it in his hands to get the laces. He took one step, then another. Planted his feet. Dovetailed to the right and fired a pass into Kenneth on the curl just as the blitzing linebacker broke through the line.
Kenneth watched the ball into his hands then secured it as the cornerback brought him down just past the first down markers.
Caine pointed at the linebacker, nodding as he jogged down the field. “You gonna have to do better than that, little bitch.”
…
Caine received the snap and took a step back.
His eyes locked on Daniel getting shoved face first into the turf by a linebacker and Gabe throwing an arm out harmlessly to try to slow him down.
He pulled the ball down, stepped to the right and then took off.
His cleats chewed up the turf as his eyes swept the field to find the space to pick up yardage. Another linebacker broke down preparing to wrap him up. Caine planted his right foot, juked to his left.
The linebacker slid into a split as he lost his balance.
Caine glanced at him then turned his head back up the field, watching as the safeties closed in on him. He went down to the turf before they made contact.
He jumped up from the turf, shouting into the face of the nearest Cougar as Trey’Dez came over and slapped him on the back of the helmet, stepping around him to dap him up.
…
“Seeet. Hut. Hut. Go!”
The snap was a little high, but Caine was able to bring it down without too much trouble. He spun the ball to the laces in his hands as he dropped back.
The pocket curved around him as Gabe and Cortez forced the edge rushers up the field.
Caine went through his progressions. Curl, no. Out, no. He climbed the pocket. Saw Jeremiah coming across the field on the slant.
Caine took another step forward, planting his feet and driving the ball low and hard toward the goal line as three Houston players converged on Jeremiah.
The ball went by the trailing cornerback’s attempt to bat the pass down. One of the safety’s, too. Right into Jeremiah’s waiting arms. The receiver caught it, absorbed the hit and snuck the ball across the goal line before he was forced back.
The field judge ran toward the middle of the field, arms in the air.
Caine punched the air, running over to Jeremiah and helping him up, the two of them slamming their helmets together in celebration.
…
“Caine, hold on,” Coach Aplin called before the offense went back out onto the field after Houston had tied the game up with a touchdown of their own.
Caine jogged back to the sideline, taking his mouthpiece out and leaning over to hear Aplin over the din of the crowd.
Aplin grabbed his shoulder pad. “We don’t need to force anything on this drive. We know we can move the ball against these guys now. Just keep things simple and we’ll grind them down, alright?”
Caine nodded. “I got you, Coach. Nothing crazy.”
Aplin nodded then slapped Caine on the back of the helmet and sent him back out onto the field.
…
The Houston defenders walked back to the huddle, hands on their hips and heads hung as Georgia Southern had driven down the field with ease, putting them within striking distance of scoring again.
Caine broke the huddle, glancing up at the megatron as he settled into his stance. The Cougars’ secondary almost immediately backed away from the line, dropping into the endzone.
Caine shouted an adjustment to the line then looked over at Nate and gave him new instructions, calling for him to make his break sooner in case the linebackers also dropped to the goal line.
“Seeeet. Go!”
Chandler sent him the ball and he dropped back. Trey’Dez streaked across the middle of the field, wide open.
Caine drew his arm back and threw it toward the endzone, giving him space to attack the ball and make the catch for the score.
Instead, Trey’Dez kept running on the same path.
And gave one of the cornerbacks an opportunity to jump the pass.
And he did, jumping in front of Trey’Dez and picking the pass off before taking a knee in the endzone.
Caine yanked his chin strap off. “Fuck, man!”
He stood with his hands on his hips until Trey’Dez made his way back from the back of the endzone. Caine held his arms out to the side, staring at him for a moment.
“Why the fuck you ain’t go to the fucking ball?!” Caine asked, anger in his voice.
“That’s on me, slime. I thought you were putting it over them,” Trey’Dez said, tapping his chest plate.
Caine pointed to the back of the endzone. “Bruh. You ain’t had but five yards to go. Where the fuck you thought I was putting that shit? In the front row?”
Trey’Dez held his hands up in surrender. “We’ll get it back, lil’ brudda.”
Caine nodded. “Alright. Fuck, man.”
…
Houston didn’t do anything with the interception, but Caine had to get his lick back.
He caught the snap cleanly, head jerking to the left as the defensive tackle broke through the line on that side. He stepped to his right then a linebacker got through as well, rushing straight toward him.
Caine faded to his right and back, running but keeping his shoulders square and his arm up. The linebacker closed in.
Caine took one last step to his right then, while on the run, rocketed the ball down the field toward a wide open Trey’Dez for a huge gain.
Trey’Dez jumped up and spiked the ball after getting tackled, but Caine was running down the field, signaling for the team to get back on the line.
“Casino! Casino!” Caine shouted to his left and then his right as he continued to wave for the offense to get set again.
Houston tried to shuttle substitutes onto the field as the Eagles got lined up on their 13.
Caine took one look at the defense. Waited a breath for the referee to get out of the way and for his teammates to come set.
“Go!”
Caine didn’t even drop back. He just planted his feet, opened to the left and fired it into Trey’Dez coming across the field on a crosser.
Trey’Dez walked into the endzone for six.
Caine ran over to him and wrapped an arm around his neck. “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about, man!”
Trey’Dez pulled free and shoved Caine, a huge smile on his face. “I told you we were getting that back, nigga!”
…
Caine ripped his helmet off as he walked back to the sideline. He looked up at the scoreboard, up 21-7 in the third quarter. Comfortable especially with Donal lining up for a chip shot field goal.
But he had wanted to start the quarter with a touchdown.
Coach Aplin slapped his twice on the shoulder pads. “We’re alright. Don’t worry about it. Three scores is a good place to be.”
Caine nodded as he walked back to the bench, taking the tablet that a team manager thrust toward him.
The stadium was quiet as the referee blew his whistle to start play.
Then it erupted.
Caine looked up at the megatron to see a Houston player running across the field with the ball lifted over his head, his teammates following him as they posed on the sideline for pictures.
Coach Aplin slammed his headset into the turf as the replay showed Donal’s kick getting blocked.
…
The rush was heavy, but expected as the offensive linemen pulled to the left to set up the screen for J.J.
Caine drifted back to give them time.
He flicked the ball out to J.J. just as two defensive tackles crashed into him. He shouted out in pain as one of them rolled over his knee.
And J.J. was immediately tackled.
Caine shoved the two defenders off him, grabbing his knee momentarily before pushing himself up to his feet. He took two limping steps before bending over and grabbing at his knee again, face screwed up in a grimace.
Dwight came over to him. “Say, my nigga. You good?”
Caine nodded before straightening and limp-jogging off the field as the punt unit came on.
…
Caine dropped his head into his hands as Houston’s running back plowed into the endzone to tie the game up at 21. He leaned back against the bench then grabbed the tablet next to him and launched it at the Gatorade cooler.
Coach Aplin called him. “Caine! Caine! Come here!”
He pushed up to his feet, knee still throbbing with every step. He pushed his way to the front of the sideline to stand next to Aplin.
Aplin leaned in, pointing to his playsheet. “Look, we got two fifty-six. Don’t rush down the field. The last thing that we want to do is give them time to go down the field and win the game.”
“Got it,” Caine nodded.
“Don’t go too slow, though. We want three plays to get to the two-minute warning, but then we gotta pick up the pace, alright?”
Caine nodded again.
“Go win us the ball game, son.”
…
Caine dropped back. Less than two minutes remaining on the clock. Second and five from Georgia Southern’s 36.
He got the ball out quickly to Trey’Dez on a slant, letting him run under it then get out of bounds to save the timeouts.
…
Caine caught the snap and dropped back, grimacing as he planted his leg into the turf to take a step forward. Femi streaked across the field on a flag. A safety was over the top, but Femi had a step on the corner.
“Fuck it,” Caine mumbled to himself.
He stepped up again and thew it just in front of him, trying to time the drop of the ball to get there before the safety could have time to close on it.
Femi laid out for it, diving to make the catch and falling to the turf.
Caine pumped his fist in the air.
…
Caine looked up at the clock as he settled into his stance, just forty-seven seconds remaining in the game. They were on Houston’s 21, well within range for Donal to hit the chip shot and get them out of there with a win.
Third and six. The defense stacked the line of scrimmage, banking on the Eagles to not do anything risky to force them to burn their last timeout.
Caine looked toward the sideline. Coach Aplin gave him the signal that he had the choice to check out of the run. Caine chose to do so, opting for an RPO instead.
He shouted the audible to the team.
Then called for the snap.
He held the ball out to J.J. as the defense sent the house to stop the run. Caine pulled the ball and came up to throw the ball to Jeremiah on the bubble screen.
The ball got to him.
Jeremiah was ready for it.
He dropped it anyway.
Caine’s arms dropped to his side as he stared at Jeremiah who hung his head, looking at his hands.
…
Donal would hit the field goal, but that didn’t stop Houston from getting down the field in a couple of plays to hit a field goal of their own and force the game to overtime.
…
Caine broke the huddle, one more chance to win the game after Houston only got a field goal with their drive in overtime.
He took one look at the defense then called for the snap. Dropped back and fired it out to Femi on the drag for the first down.
…
He threw it to J.J. for a gain of three.
…
Then to Javier for a gain of five to get them down to the eight.
…
“Seeeet. Hut. Hut. Go!”
Caine caught the snap and didn’t even move. He just stared at the WILL. The linebacker came on the blitz. Caine had the window that he was looking for.
Trey’Dez slipped behind the linebacker. Even the cornerbacks and safeties knew what was coming.
Trey’Dez turned his head and the ball was already coming toward him. He caught the pass and jogged into the endzone, spiking the ball and being mobbed by his teammates as the referees signaled the touchdown then the end of the game.
Caine pointed to a Houston defender then another then another, shouting in their faces, “I’m him! Motherfucker, I’m him! The fuck you thought this was?! Fuck off my field!”
~~~
The kitchen had gone quiet except for the sink. Laney worked through the last of the glasses, her hands under the hot water, thumbs turning each one before setting it on the rack. Through the window above the faucet, the back patio stretched out into the yard. Her daddy sat in the chair at the end of the table with his iced tea sweating onto the wood beside him. Her mama sat across from him, one ankle crossed over the other, listening to whatever Caleb was saying. Gabrielle had her hand on Caleb's arm. Tommy stood a few feet from the table with Jesse, the two of them watching the boys chase each other through the far end of the yard. Hunter ran flat out, too fast for his legs, and went down in the grass. He was up before anybody could say anything, already running again.Laney watched until he was back on his feet. Then she turned back to the sink.
The screen door from the hall swung open. Footsteps crossed the kitchen. Rylee opened the refrigerator and stood with her hand on the door, scanning the top shelf. She pulled out one of her daddy's beers, let the door fall shut, and walked the bottle over to the counter edge. She hooked the cap against it, palm flat, and popped it. The cap skittered across the laminate and came to rest near the stove.
Laney set a glass on the rack. "Bein' a little reckless, huh?"
Rylee lifted the bottle and took a long pull. She lowered it from her mouth and used the back of her hand across her lips, eyes cutting toward the window, toward the yard. "Drinkin' a beer ain't worse than nothin' you be doin'," she said, "so I think I'll be alright."
Laney laughed. She turned the next glass under the water, thumb working at a dried spot near the base. "Spoken like someone who been sheltered her whole damn life."
"We grew up the same, Laney."
Laney looked at her then. She held it for a beat, taking her in, and then shook her head. She turned back to the sink. "Clearly, we ain't."
Rylee took another pull from the beer, slower this time. She leaned her hip into the counter and looked out through the window, the light sitting flat and orange on the yard. Out past the patio, Knox had caught up with Braxton and the two of them were tussling in the grass, their voices coming through the glass thin and wordless.
"So, this is your new thing 'cause you mad?" Laney asked. She didn't look up from the dishes. "Doin' all kinds of risky shit 'til it bite you in the ass?"
Rylee set the bottle down on the counter. Her eyes came off the window and found Laney's back. "Ain't mad 'bout it no more." A beat passed. "I just know who you is now and you don't like that."
Laney's hands slowed under the water. She turned from the sink and dried her palms on the dish towel hanging from the stove handle. "Who I am then?"
Rylee's chin came up a fraction. "A bitch who think she can do whatever she want 'cause some dickhead put a ring on her finger and her daddy let her play boss at a shittin' ass daycare."
Laney laughed. The sound came out flat. She folded the dish towel back over the stove handle and smoothed it once. "You gotta do more than that to piss me off, baby sister."
Rylee tilted the bottle up and finished it. She carried it to the trash can beside the back door and dropped it in. The glass hit the bottom with a hollow knock. "That's alright." She let the lid settle. "I just wanted to let you know that I see who you is now."
Laney picked up another glass from the rack and set it in the cabinet above the counter. She kept her back to the room. "Guess you won't be needin' me makin' sure you don't get yourself in no trouble any more then."
"I never needed you."
Laney nodded once. She pushed the cabinet shut. "Alright, Rylee Jo." She turned back to the counter, straightened the dish towel against the stove handle. She looked at her sister. "Hopefully your birth control workin' tonight."
Rylee's eyes rolled. She didn't say anything back. She crossed back to the refrigerator, pulled it open, and reached in for a second beer. She let the door fall shut and walked the bottle to the counter edge. Same motion, same crack of the cap. She caught it in her palm and set it down beside the first one. She picked up the fresh bottle and walked through the kitchen without looking at Laney, pushed through the door, and was gone.
Laney stayed where she was for a moment, staring at the door. Then she stepped to the counter. She picked up both bottle caps, one and then the other, and dropped them in the trash.
~~~
The candles on the tray had burned down some. Two of them, low and uneven, the wax pooled flat in the heat. The blunt sat beside them, half gone, the paper dark where it had been pinched and set down a few times. Mireya lay still in the water with her arms loose at her sides and her hair draped over the back edge of the tub. The ornate claw foot pressed cold against her bare shoulder. Steam had thickened the air in the bathroom until the mirrors were fogged through to the center. The water had gone from scalding hot to just hot. A bead of condensation moved down the side of the tub and she watched it through her lashes.She heard him before she saw him. His steps on the marble in the hall, the familiar weight and pace of them. Then the quiet at the bathroom threshold where they stopped. She let the candle flames shift in the air his body moved through and then settle.
She opened her eyes fully.
Trell stood at the side of the tub, looking down at her. He was still dressed from whatever the night had been, chain sitting flat against his chest, the faint smell of outside still on his clothes. He looked at her, taking a full account of her before he moved or said anything. Then his hands went to his wrists. He unclasped one watch, then the rings setting them on the wide stone rim of the tub one at a time.
Mireya watched him until he was done. "How was work tonight?"
He laughed. Low, easy, his head shaking once. "That was some domestic ass shit to ask."
She lifted one shoulder. "Seemed like the right thing to ask."
Trell's eyes moved over the water, over her, then back up to her face. He lowered himself to kneel at the edge of the tub with his forearm resting on the rim. "Jakes doing a few extra sweeps every night," he said. "Rounding niggas. Probably trying to put some RICOs together."
"You worried about that?"
He shook his head. His hand went into the water. "Ain't enough of us to get caught like that." His fingers found her hip and moved from there in a slow line. "Other niggas got thirty, forty niggas on a corner wondering why NOPD rolling through. They not paying attention to our one or two."
Mireya hummed. Her eyes stayed on his face.
His hand moved upward from her hip. She felt his fingers spread across her ribs, trace the line of her going higher, the water shifting around his wrist. She kept her arms loose at her sides and let him go wherever he decided to.
He looked up at her. "What about you? How many niggas' wallets you drained tonight?"
"One or two." Her wrist turned slightly on the edge of the tub. "Wasn't a great night. Slow. But it always is when we're on the North Shore."
His mouth pulled at one corner. "Sounds like you should've been sucking more dick."
Mireya snorted a laugh. She reached for the tray, fingers finding the blunt first, then the lighter beside it. She brought the blunt to her lips and lit it, pulling until the end caught and held. She let the smoke sit in her chest, then released it toward the ceiling in a thin line that spread into the steam and went.
Trell watched the smoke go. His hand kept moving in the water, slow.
"I need you to come with me to Memphis next week," he said.
She turned her head toward him. "When next week?"
His hand stopped on the inside of her thigh. He looked up at her. "Do it matter when?"
"I just need to know if I need to send my daughter to Georgia with her grandmother," she said, "or if I'm going with them."
"Flight ain't on the weekend. It's on Tuesday, coming back Thursday." He kept his eyes on her face, his hand squeezing into her skin just a bit. "I got other shit to do next weekend."
Mireya opened her mouth. Tuesday and Thursday she had two classes. Wednesday, too. She knew his face well enough by now to know he already knew exactly what she was about to say. She could see it in the set of his jaw, in the quality of the stillness there. The patience of someone who had placed words in a specific arrangement and was standing back, watching her walk toward them.
She brought the blunt back to her lips instead. Drew. Held it. Let it go.
"Just let me know when the flight is," she said.
Trell smiled. He lifted his dry hand from the rim of the tub and reached for the blunt, taking it from between her fingers. He brought it to his lips and pulled from it, watching her over the glow of the cherry. He held the smoke for a beat, then let it out easy.
"That's my bitch." His eyes held hers. "You gonna take care of me?"
Mireya nodded. She shifted in the water, turning her body toward the edge of the tub closest to him. She watched his face as he rose from his knee and straightened above her, the blunt still between his fingers. His free hand dropped to his belt and his fingers found the buckle and worked it loose.
Rylee if she get knocked up.
