not even october yet and they pushed this nigga out the program and to the portal lmao
Zane already nearing 500 yards?
Invictus
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season V | Chapter XI - SATiSFACTION
The Italian restaurant carried the low hum of expensive conversation around them, silverware clinking softly against ceramic plates while old Frank Sinatra drifted through hidden speakers overhead. Warm amber lighting reflected against polished wine glasses and dark wooden booths, giving everything a golden softness that made the night feel slower than the rest of Ann Arbor usually allowed.
Bryce sat across from Bianca in the booth toward the back of the restaurant, broad shoulders relaxed against the leather seat. The diamond-studded “19” chain around his neck caught the overhead lights every time he moved, flickering bright enough to draw attention without him even trying. His glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose as he scanned over the menu.
He had insisted earlier that he actually needed them. Bianca did not buy it.
She sat opposite him in a sleeveless white cotton blouse she had spent the entire walk over trying not to stain or wrinkle. The gold necklace around her neck shimmered subtly beneath the restaurant lights, the small “B” pendant resting against her chest. One of the last gifts Zane had given her.
Bryce leaned slightly onto the table, chin tilted into his hand as he stared at her openly. Bianca glanced downward toward his forearms resting against the tablecloth, her eyes tracing the tattoo stretched prominently along his left arm. Underwood.
Her brows raised slightly.
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
Bryce shrugged, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “I’m just surprised you asked me to dinner tonight.”
Now it was Bianca’s turn to shrug. “I just wasn’t feeling another coffee,” she replied casually. “And I was damn hungry.”
She paused. “Plus, I knew you would pay.”
Bryce scoffed dramatically, leaning back in the booth. “Aight, then you better get that credit card ready. I’m broke.”
Bianca narrowed her eyes at him, the corner of her mouth curling upward.
“Don’t make me google ‘Bryce Underwood NIL’ right now and expose just how much money you got.”
Bryce laughed immediately, holding both palms toward her in fake surrender.
“Okay, okay. I got it this time.”
She nodded sweetly. “Thought so.”
The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment while waiters weaved through the crowded restaurant carrying trays of pasta and wine. Bryce’s gaze eventually settled back onto her again, softer this time.
“I am glad you invited me out, for real,” he admitted. “But I gotta ask…”
He tilted his head slightly. “Is this going anywhere?”
Bianca hesitated. Her smile remained on her face, but it twitched faintly around the edges. Her eyes lowered toward the shining cutlery wrapped neatly in a folded napkin in front of her.
“I’m not gonna act like I’m not into you,” she admitted honestly. “Or that I don’t enjoy being around you.”
She paused again. “But, I’m also not gonna ask like I’m not still in love with Zane. Or that I’m over things there.”
Bryce nodded slowly, almost immediately. “I appreciate how blunt you are,” he joked lightly.
Bianca laughed softly.
“I don’t really know how to be anything else.”
Bryce smiled at that. A small silence settled between them again, though it was not awkward. Just careful.
Bianca drew a slow breath before continuing. “I do wanna see where things go with you,” she admitted. “But right now, I think I just need a friend.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table. “I need to figure myself out before I add another man into my life.”
Bryce listened without interrupting, his expression surprisingly understanding for someone in his position.
Finally, he nodded. His million-dollar smile spread easily across his face. “I can get down with that. My shit’s pretty complicated with all of the attention I get. Friendship sounds good to me.”
Almost perfectly on cue, their meals arrived at the table. The waiter set Bianca’s pasta carefully in front of her while Bryce thanked him and pulled his own plate closer. Steam curled upward between them beneath the warm restaurant lighting.
The Syracuse weight room had mostly emptied out by the time Zane found himself hunched forward at the bench press rack, elbows resting against his knees as he shuffled mindlessly through his phone. The bass-heavy practice playlist still echoed faintly through the overheard speakers, though it sounded distant now without the usual noise of teammates yelling over one another.
It was toward the tail end of the workout session. Most of the team had already finished lifting and moved on with the rest of their day.
Not Zane. He always liked taking his time in the weight room.
He worked harder here. Lifted heavier. Pushed himself right to the edge of what the strength and conditioning staff would tolerate before stepping in and telling him to ease off.
It was bigger than football now.
The weight room gave him something tangible. Something he could physically measure. More reps. More plates. More pain. More progress.
It felt good knowing exactly how far he could push himself before his body started giving out.
Johntay sauntered over with a towel draped around his neck, sweat still glistening across his forehead from the end of conditioning.
“You done for the day?” he asked.
Zane shook his head without looking up from his phone. “Got two more sets.”
Johntay nodded and dropped himself onto a nearby bench.
“I’ll wait then,” he said casually. “I ain’t trying to pull up to Chipotle solo.”
Zane scoffed jokingly. “Who said I wanted to go with you?”
Johntay cracked a grin immediately. “Fine then. Be lonely, lame ass nigga.”
But he stayed seated anyway.
Zane shook his head before sliding his phone on the floor beneath him on the bench. He laid back underneath the barbell and wrapped both hands around the knurling, feeling the familiar pressure bite into his palms.
The weight felt heavy. Comfortingly heavy.
He unracked it slowly and brought it down toward his chest with control before exploding it upward.
One rep.
Then another. Then another.
The bar moved steadily despite the exhaustion humming through his muscles. Sweat slid down the sides of his temples as he finished the set and carefully reracked the weight with a metallic clank.
Johntay watched him for a moment before speaking again.
“You thinking about transferring after the season?”
Zane used the bar to help pull himself upright into a seated position, brows furrowing immediately.
“What?”
Johntay leaned forward against his knees. “I asked if you thinking about transferring.”
He unclasped his hands and shrugged. “I ain’t undercover or nothing. I’m probably declaring or transferring myself anyway. I ain’t got no stake in your business.”
Zane grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink before answering.
“Why the fuck would I be thinking about transferring a few weeks into my freshmen year?”
Johntay scoffed loudly. “Not to glaze, but my nigga, you too good for this shit.”
Zane shot him a look. Johntay pointed toward him dramatically. “Come on, bro. You really want to spend the next three years playing fucking UConn?”
Zane shrugged. “The team ain’t even playing that good bro. We not winning shit.”
Johntay twirled his fingers in the air impatiently. “Key word being ‘team’, come on now.”
Zane laughed under his breath at the bluntness.
“But you?” Johntay continued. “Nigga, you like, top three in the country in receiving yards already. Did you know that shit?”
Zane shrugged again. “I ain’t thought about it. I’m just trying to win.”
Johntay kissed his teeth loudly. “You could be out here, making a bidding war between the Big Ten and the SEC, and you over here trying to get us to the National Championship.”
That made Zane glance over properly. “Bro, what are you even on about? You the vet - aren’t you supposed to be locked in on trying to right the ship or some shit?”
Johntay sat up straighter now like he was preparing to teach a class.
“Let me put you on game, lil’ nigga.”
Zane rolled his eyes slightly but listened.
“You already outgrew Syracuse. Hell, even I have. I’m here purely out of circumstance. Them niggas been letting me get my shine on, threw me a bag or two. Now, I hope I can pivot the shit to the league next year. You a baby in this game. You could be a millionaire by the time you’re 20, but you over here trying to get Coach Brown paid. For what?”
Zane frowned immediately.
“I’m not focused on the money shit, bro. I just want to win.”
Johntay looked genuinely puzzled by the answer.
“You would make the alumni committee cream in their jeans if they heard you say that fuck shit.”
Johntay closed his eyes for a beat before reopening them, his tone softening slightly. “Look,” he said. “You got something special. Everybody know it. Coach Fran knows it. The alumni know it. And soon, the rest of college football is going to know it.”
Zane stayed quiet.
“Don’t spend your time here, playing small because you don’t want to risk showing the world your true potential. Smell like bitch if you do that.”
Johntay pointed toward him again. “You should at least talk to somebody. Get some evaluations. See what your options are. Don’t be too scared to jump off that porch and be somebody, nigga.”
The room fell quiet again after that. Zane laid back underneath the bench for his final set, wrapping his hands around the barbell once more.
But this time, as he unracked the weight and lowered it toward his chest, his mind was no longer focused on the list.
A knock came at the front of the Jones residence.
Mary glanced toward the glowing clock on the microwave and sighed softly to herself. She already knew who it was.
Detective Ashlee Draper and her weekly drop-in.
Mary pushed herself away from the kitchen counter and shuffled toward the front entrance, peering briefly up the staircase as she passed. It was still early enough that Rasheed remained asleep upstairs after another late night spent out doing God knew what.
Or at least, Mary preferred not knowing.
She reached the door and pulled it open.
Ashlee stood on the porch with her usual warm smile already waiting. Not the rehearsed, pitying smile Mary had grown accustomed to from most people these days. Ashlee’s always felt more genuine than that. Softer.
“Morning, Mrs. Jones,” she greeted warmly.
Mary stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Ashlee tanked her quietly and stepped inside, smoothing the front of her blazer as the front door clicked shut behind her.
Almost immediately, Mary noticed something felt different.
Ashlee looked nervous. Not tense exactly, but uncertain. Mary gestured toward the kitchen.
“You want a glass of water? Coffee’s fresh.”
Ashlee shook her head politely. “No thank you.”
Mary narrowed her gaze at her then. “Alright,” she said flatly. “Enough with the pleasantries.”
Ashlee blinked. Mary folded her arms. “I appreciate the company. I know you mean well. But even this is starting to weird me out a little bit.”
Ashlee let out a breath through her nose, a sheepish smile crossing her face.
“I really do mean well,” she admitted softly. “And I know I can probably be overbearing.”
Mary said nothing. Ashlee shifted awkwardly where she stood.
“I got into police work because I wanted to help people,” she continued. “Wanted to give people hope.”
Her eyes dropped momentarily. “And then I joined the force and learned hope usually doesn’t come as straightforward as it should. Sometimes, it didn’t come at all.”
Mary’s expression softened only slightly. “But today,” Ashlee said carefully, “I actually do have good news.”
Mary’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”
Ashlee’s smile returned carefully.
“The other victim,” she said. “Mariah.”
Mary’s posture stiffened immediately.
“She woke up from the coma.”
The words settled heavily into the room.
“It happened recently,” Ashlee continued quickly. “The police haven’t questioned her yet, but-”
She smiled wider now.
“-it’s a huge development for the investigation.”
But Ashlee’s smile faltered almost immediately when she realized Mary was no longer looking at her.
She was staring past her. Toward the staircase.
Ashlee slowly turned. Rasheed stood there silently near the bottom step, one hand resting against the railing.
He had overheard everything.
…
UPMC Mercy smelled like disinfectant and exhaustion.
Rasheed moved through the hospital hallways with his hood pulled low over his head, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt. The fluorescent lighting overhead made everybody look sickly. Pale.
Two uniformed police officers exited from farther down the hallway as he approached, speaking quietly among themselves before disappearing around the corner in the opposite direction.
Rasheed slowed as he reached the hospital room.
The door remained cracked slightly open. He peeked inside first.
Heather sat beside the bed holding Mariah’s hand tightly between both of hers. Fresh tears still coated Heather’s face. Her shoulders trembled faintly every few seconds like she was still trying to stop crying.
Mariah looked awake.
Aware. But frail.
Bruises still stained portions of her face and neck. Her skin looked pale against the hospital sheets. Tubes and wires remained attached to her, machines softly humming around the room.
Heather looked toward the doorway first. Her eyes immediately settled onto Rasheed knowingly.
Then she nodded once. “Come in.”
Rasheed stepped inside quietly. Mariah’s tired eyes slowly shifted toward him.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Rasheed cleared his throat.
“I’m Rasheed,” he introduced quietly. “Felix’s son.”
Something flickered across Mariah’s face instantly at the mention of Felix.
Pain. Guilt. Grief. All tangled together.
Her voice came out rough and hoarse when she finally spoke.
“I can’t even put into words what I’m feeling,” she admitted weakly. “All I know is…”
Her eyes welled slightly. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
Rasheed shook his head immediately. “If I knew my pops,” he replied quietly, “then he knew exactly what he was getting himself into.”
That seemed to hit her hard. A silence followed after that. Heavy.
Then Mariah swallowed carefully before speaking again.
“I told the police I don’t know where Tom could be.”
Rasheed nodded slowly. Inside, something deflated. Another dead end.
But then Mariah continued.
“I lied.”
Rasheed’s eyes sharpened immediately.
Heather remained completely silent beside her daughter.
“My mom told me about you,” Mariah said softly. “About how you’ve been trying to find him.”
Rasheed stayed still. Mariah’s tired eyes locked onto his.
“I wanted to talk to you,” she whispered. “Only you.”
Rasheed frowned slightly. “Why me?”
Mariah’s face hardened faintly for the first time since he entered the room.
“Because,” she answered quietly, “I know exactly where Tom should be.”
A pause.
“And I know exactly what you’re gonna do when you find him.”
The Italian restaurant carried the low hum of expensive conversation around them, silverware clinking softly against ceramic plates while old Frank Sinatra drifted through hidden speakers overhead. Warm amber lighting reflected against polished wine glasses and dark wooden booths, giving everything a golden softness that made the night feel slower than the rest of Ann Arbor usually allowed.
Bryce sat across from Bianca in the booth toward the back of the restaurant, broad shoulders relaxed against the leather seat. The diamond-studded “19” chain around his neck caught the overhead lights every time he moved, flickering bright enough to draw attention without him even trying. His glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose as he scanned over the menu.
He had insisted earlier that he actually needed them. Bianca did not buy it.
She sat opposite him in a sleeveless white cotton blouse she had spent the entire walk over trying not to stain or wrinkle. The gold necklace around her neck shimmered subtly beneath the restaurant lights, the small “B” pendant resting against her chest. One of the last gifts Zane had given her.
Bryce leaned slightly onto the table, chin tilted into his hand as he stared at her openly. Bianca glanced downward toward his forearms resting against the tablecloth, her eyes tracing the tattoo stretched prominently along his left arm. Underwood.
Her brows raised slightly.
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
Bryce shrugged, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “I’m just surprised you asked me to dinner tonight.”
Now it was Bianca’s turn to shrug. “I just wasn’t feeling another coffee,” she replied casually. “And I was damn hungry.”
She paused. “Plus, I knew you would pay.”
Bryce scoffed dramatically, leaning back in the booth. “Aight, then you better get that credit card ready. I’m broke.”
Bianca narrowed her eyes at him, the corner of her mouth curling upward.
“Don’t make me google ‘Bryce Underwood NIL’ right now and expose just how much money you got.”
Bryce laughed immediately, holding both palms toward her in fake surrender.
“Okay, okay. I got it this time.”
She nodded sweetly. “Thought so.”
The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment while waiters weaved through the crowded restaurant carrying trays of pasta and wine. Bryce’s gaze eventually settled back onto her again, softer this time.
“I am glad you invited me out, for real,” he admitted. “But I gotta ask…”
He tilted his head slightly. “Is this going anywhere?”
Bianca hesitated. Her smile remained on her face, but it twitched faintly around the edges. Her eyes lowered toward the shining cutlery wrapped neatly in a folded napkin in front of her.
“I’m not gonna act like I’m not into you,” she admitted honestly. “Or that I don’t enjoy being around you.”
She paused again. “But, I’m also not gonna ask like I’m not still in love with Zane. Or that I’m over things there.”
Bryce nodded slowly, almost immediately. “I appreciate how blunt you are,” he joked lightly.
Bianca laughed softly.
“I don’t really know how to be anything else.”
Bryce smiled at that. A small silence settled between them again, though it was not awkward. Just careful.
Bianca drew a slow breath before continuing. “I do wanna see where things go with you,” she admitted. “But right now, I think I just need a friend.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table. “I need to figure myself out before I add another man into my life.”
Bryce listened without interrupting, his expression surprisingly understanding for someone in his position.
Finally, he nodded. His million-dollar smile spread easily across his face. “I can get down with that. My shit’s pretty complicated with all of the attention I get. Friendship sounds good to me.”
Almost perfectly on cue, their meals arrived at the table. The waiter set Bianca’s pasta carefully in front of her while Bryce thanked him and pulled his own plate closer. Steam curled upward between them beneath the warm restaurant lighting.
***
The Syracuse weight room had mostly emptied out by the time Zane found himself hunched forward at the bench press rack, elbows resting against his knees as he shuffled mindlessly through his phone. The bass-heavy practice playlist still echoed faintly through the overheard speakers, though it sounded distant now without the usual noise of teammates yelling over one another.
It was toward the tail end of the workout session. Most of the team had already finished lifting and moved on with the rest of their day.
Not Zane. He always liked taking his time in the weight room.
He worked harder here. Lifted heavier. Pushed himself right to the edge of what the strength and conditioning staff would tolerate before stepping in and telling him to ease off.
It was bigger than football now.
The weight room gave him something tangible. Something he could physically measure. More reps. More plates. More pain. More progress.
It felt good knowing exactly how far he could push himself before his body started giving out.
Johntay sauntered over with a towel draped around his neck, sweat still glistening across his forehead from the end of conditioning.
“You done for the day?” he asked.
Zane shook his head without looking up from his phone. “Got two more sets.”
Johntay nodded and dropped himself onto a nearby bench.
“I’ll wait then,” he said casually. “I ain’t trying to pull up to Chipotle solo.”
Zane scoffed jokingly. “Who said I wanted to go with you?”
Johntay cracked a grin immediately. “Fine then. Be lonely, lame ass nigga.”
But he stayed seated anyway.
Zane shook his head before sliding his phone on the floor beneath him on the bench. He laid back underneath the barbell and wrapped both hands around the knurling, feeling the familiar pressure bite into his palms.
The weight felt heavy. Comfortingly heavy.
He unracked it slowly and brought it down toward his chest with control before exploding it upward.
One rep.
Then another. Then another.
The bar moved steadily despite the exhaustion humming through his muscles. Sweat slid down the sides of his temples as he finished the set and carefully reracked the weight with a metallic clank.
Johntay watched him for a moment before speaking again.
“You thinking about transferring after the season?”
Zane used the bar to help pull himself upright into a seated position, brows furrowing immediately.
“What?”
Johntay leaned forward against his knees. “I asked if you thinking about transferring.”
He unclasped his hands and shrugged. “I ain’t undercover or nothing. I’m probably declaring or transferring myself anyway. I ain’t got no stake in your business.”
Zane grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink before answering.
“Why the fuck would I be thinking about transferring a few weeks into my freshmen year?”
Johntay scoffed loudly. “Not to glaze, but my nigga, you too good for this shit.”
Zane shot him a look. Johntay pointed toward him dramatically. “Come on, bro. You really want to spend the next three years playing fucking UConn?”
Zane shrugged. “The team ain’t even playing that good bro. We not winning shit.”
Johntay twirled his fingers in the air impatiently. “Key word being ‘team’, come on now.”
Zane laughed under his breath at the bluntness.
“But you?” Johntay continued. “Nigga, you like, top three in the country in receiving yards already. Did you know that shit?”
Zane shrugged again. “I ain’t thought about it. I’m just trying to win.”
Johntay kissed his teeth loudly. “You could be out here, making a bidding war between the Big Ten and the SEC, and you over here trying to get us to the National Championship.”
That made Zane glance over properly. “Bro, what are you even on about? You the vet - aren’t you supposed to be locked in on trying to right the ship or some shit?”
Johntay sat up straighter now like he was preparing to teach a class.
“Let me put you on game, lil’ nigga.”
Zane rolled his eyes slightly but listened.
“You already outgrew Syracuse. Hell, even I have. I’m here purely out of circumstance. Them niggas been letting me get my shine on, threw me a bag or two. Now, I hope I can pivot the shit to the league next year. You a baby in this game. You could be a millionaire by the time you’re 20, but you over here trying to get Coach Brown paid. For what?”
Zane frowned immediately.
“I’m not focused on the money shit, bro. I just want to win.”
Johntay looked genuinely puzzled by the answer.
“You would make the alumni committee cream in their jeans if they heard you say that fuck shit.”
Johntay closed his eyes for a beat before reopening them, his tone softening slightly. “Look,” he said. “You got something special. Everybody know it. Coach Fran knows it. The alumni know it. And soon, the rest of college football is going to know it.”
Zane stayed quiet.
“Don’t spend your time here, playing small because you don’t want to risk showing the world your true potential. Smell like bitch if you do that.”
Johntay pointed toward him again. “You should at least talk to somebody. Get some evaluations. See what your options are. Don’t be too scared to jump off that porch and be somebody, nigga.”
The room fell quiet again after that. Zane laid back underneath the bench for his final set, wrapping his hands around the barbell once more.
But this time, as he unracked the weight and lowered it toward his chest, his mind was no longer focused on the list.
***
A knock came at the front of the Jones residence.
Mary glanced toward the glowing clock on the microwave and sighed softly to herself. She already knew who it was.
Detective Ashlee Draper and her weekly drop-in.
Mary pushed herself away from the kitchen counter and shuffled toward the front entrance, peering briefly up the staircase as she passed. It was still early enough that Rasheed remained asleep upstairs after another late night spent out doing God knew what.
Or at least, Mary preferred not knowing.
She reached the door and pulled it open.
Ashlee stood on the porch with her usual warm smile already waiting. Not the rehearsed, pitying smile Mary had grown accustomed to from most people these days. Ashlee’s always felt more genuine than that. Softer.
“Morning, Mrs. Jones,” she greeted warmly.
Mary stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Ashlee tanked her quietly and stepped inside, smoothing the front of her blazer as the front door clicked shut behind her.
Almost immediately, Mary noticed something felt different.
Ashlee looked nervous. Not tense exactly, but uncertain. Mary gestured toward the kitchen.
“You want a glass of water? Coffee’s fresh.”
Ashlee shook her head politely. “No thank you.”
Mary narrowed her gaze at her then. “Alright,” she said flatly. “Enough with the pleasantries.”
Ashlee blinked. Mary folded her arms. “I appreciate the company. I know you mean well. But even this is starting to weird me out a little bit.”
Ashlee let out a breath through her nose, a sheepish smile crossing her face.
“I really do mean well,” she admitted softly. “And I know I can probably be overbearing.”
Mary said nothing. Ashlee shifted awkwardly where she stood.
“I got into police work because I wanted to help people,” she continued. “Wanted to give people hope.”
Her eyes dropped momentarily. “And then I joined the force and learned hope usually doesn’t come as straightforward as it should. Sometimes, it didn’t come at all.”
Mary’s expression softened only slightly. “But today,” Ashlee said carefully, “I actually do have good news.”
Mary’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”
Ashlee’s smile returned carefully.
“The other victim,” she said. “Mariah.”
Mary’s posture stiffened immediately.
“She woke up from the coma.”
The words settled heavily into the room.
“It happened recently,” Ashlee continued quickly. “The police haven’t questioned her yet, but-”
She smiled wider now.
“-it’s a huge development for the investigation.”
But Ashlee’s smile faltered almost immediately when she realized Mary was no longer looking at her.
She was staring past her. Toward the staircase.
Ashlee slowly turned. Rasheed stood there silently near the bottom step, one hand resting against the railing.
He had overheard everything.
…
UPMC Mercy smelled like disinfectant and exhaustion.
Rasheed moved through the hospital hallways with his hood pulled low over his head, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt. The fluorescent lighting overhead made everybody look sickly. Pale.
Two uniformed police officers exited from farther down the hallway as he approached, speaking quietly among themselves before disappearing around the corner in the opposite direction.
Rasheed slowed as he reached the hospital room.
The door remained cracked slightly open. He peeked inside first.
Heather sat beside the bed holding Mariah’s hand tightly between both of hers. Fresh tears still coated Heather’s face. Her shoulders trembled faintly every few seconds like she was still trying to stop crying.
Mariah looked awake.
Aware. But frail.
Bruises still stained portions of her face and neck. Her skin looked pale against the hospital sheets. Tubes and wires remained attached to her, machines softly humming around the room.
Heather looked toward the doorway first. Her eyes immediately settled onto Rasheed knowingly.
Then she nodded once. “Come in.”
Rasheed stepped inside quietly. Mariah’s tired eyes slowly shifted toward him.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Rasheed cleared his throat.
“I’m Rasheed,” he introduced quietly. “Felix’s son.”
Something flickered across Mariah’s face instantly at the mention of Felix.
Pain. Guilt. Grief. All tangled together.
Her voice came out rough and hoarse when she finally spoke.
“I can’t even put into words what I’m feeling,” she admitted weakly. “All I know is…”
Her eyes welled slightly. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
Rasheed shook his head immediately. “If I knew my pops,” he replied quietly, “then he knew exactly what he was getting himself into.”
That seemed to hit her hard. A silence followed after that. Heavy.
Then Mariah swallowed carefully before speaking again.
“I told the police I don’t know where Tom could be.”
Rasheed nodded slowly. Inside, something deflated. Another dead end.
But then Mariah continued.
“I lied.”
Rasheed’s eyes sharpened immediately.
Heather remained completely silent beside her daughter.
“My mom told me about you,” Mariah said softly. “About how you’ve been trying to find him.”
Rasheed stayed still. Mariah’s tired eyes locked onto his.
“I wanted to talk to you,” she whispered. “Only you.”
Rasheed frowned slightly. “Why me?”
Mariah’s face hardened faintly for the first time since he entered the room.
“Because,” she answered quietly, “I know exactly where Tom should be.”
A pause.
“And I know exactly what you’re gonna do when you find him.”
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 8013
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Caesar
- Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17026
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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Captain Canada wrote: ↑13 May 2026, 20:58“I’m not gonna act like I’m not into you,” she admitted honestly. “Or that I don’t enjoy being around you.”
Zane transferring to Michigan to try to get his woman back?
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
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Nah, you definitely shouldn't speakCaesar wrote: ↑14 May 2026, 08:58Captain Canada wrote: ↑13 May 2026, 20:58“I’m not gonna act like I’m not into you,” she admitted honestly. “Or that I don’t enjoy being around you.”
Zane transferring to Michigan to try to get his woman back?
Transferring to Michigan just to get Bianca back would have Zane never beating the allegations. We can't have that
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
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(3-1, 2-0 ACC) 
@
(2-2, 0-1 ACC)
@(2-2, 0-1 ACC)Mustangs come alive in the second half, fly past Syracuse
‣ CB William Nettles battled hard all game long with wide receiver Johntay Cook II in SMU's comeback victory
‣ CB William Nettles battled hard all game long with wide receiver Johntay Cook II in SMU's comeback victory
Score
| FINAL | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | T |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Syracuse | 7 | 6 | 3 | 7 | 23 |
| #22 SMU | 3 | 3 | 14 | 17 | 37 |
Scoring Summary
1st Quarter
(8:48) Sam Keltner, 39-yard field goal [CUSE 0 - 3 SMU]
(6:18) Johntay Cook II, 23-yard pass from Luke Carney (Jaydn Oh kick) [CUSE 7 - 3 SMU]2nd Quarter
(9:04) Jaydn Oh, 18-yard field goal [CUSE 10 - 3 SMU] (6:28) Sam Keltner, 28-yard field goal [CUSE 10 - 6 SMU] (1:32) Jaydn Oh, 21-yard field goal [CUSE 13 - 6 SMU]3rd Quarter
(10:25) T.Y. Harding, 47-yard pass from Kevin Jennings (Sam Keltner kick) [CUSE 13 - 13 SMU] (5:56) Jalen Cooper, 1-yard pass from Kevin Jennings (Sam Keltner kick) [CUSE 13 - 20 SMU] (2:40) Jaydn Oh, 36-yard field goal [CUSE 16 - 20 SMU]4th Quarter
(11:01) Sam Keltner, 44-yard field goal [CUSE 16 - 23 SMU] (9:45) Zane Jones, 41-yard pass from Ajani Sheppard (Jaydn Oh kick) [CUSE 23 - 23 SMU] (6:37) Jalen Cooper, 6-yard pass from Kevin Jennings (Sam Keltner kick) [CUSE 23 - 30 SMU] (4:27) Marcellus Barnes Jr., 59-yard returned interception (Sam Keltner kick) [CUSE 23 - 37 SMU]Team Statistics
QB Ajani Sheppard: 25-38, 292 passing yards, touchdown, interception, 16 carries, 52 rushing yards QB Kevin Jennings: 19-28, 255 passing yards, 3 touchdowns, 10 carries, 66 rushing yards HB Yasin Willis: 11 carries, 82 rushing yards HB Malachi James: 5 carries, 34 rushing yards HB T.J. Harden: 20 carries, 106 rushing yards WR Zane Jones: 8 catches, 109 receiving yards, touchdown TE Daunte Bacheyie: 6 catches, 81 receiving yards WR Johntay Cook II: 5 catches, 69 receiving yards, touchdown WR Jaedn Skeete: 2 catches, 31 receiving yards WR Jalen Cooper: 11 catches, 131 receiving yards, 2 touchdowns WR T.Y. Harding: 5 catches, 88 receiving yards, touchdown TE Walker Lyons: 1 catch, 15 receiving yards EDGE Jayzen Flint: 6 tackles, tackle for loss, pass breakup DT Markus Samuel: 5 tackles, 2 tackles for loss DT Curt Neal: 4 tackles, tackle for loss SS Cornell Perry: 5 tackles, pass breakup MIKE Brandon Miyazono: 11 tackles, tackle for loss, sack, forced fumble CB William Nettles: 9 tackles, pass breakup CB Marcellus Barnes Jr: 8 tackles, interception, touchdown, pass breakup SAM Trey Reddick: 5 tackles, 3 tackles for loss, 1.5 sacks