No Father's Son
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7298
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
No Father's Son
Taking out your frustrations from that shocking loss against Oregon against Auburn is disrespectful but who amongst us?
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Caesar
- Chise GOAT
- Posts: 15997
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
No Father's Son
Maybe you should've brought some of that out against Oregon.
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5484
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
even the best slip up sometimesthey just had the misfortune of being nextCaptain Canada wrote: ↑13 Jun 2026, 11:54Taking out your frustrations from that shocking loss against Oregon against Auburn is disrespectful but who amongst us?
now I see how annoying my "score more goals" comments are in soccer
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5484
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
2031 Week Seven Preview - #5 Oklahoma (4-1) @ #9 Texas (4-1)
Boone Tillman // Sooner Born • Published: October 10th, 2031
It's that time of year again, folks. The air is turning crisp, the State Fair is in full swing, and it's football time in Dallas, Texas. The Longhorns' loss to the Georgia Bulldogs took a bit of the bite out of this matchup, but as far as I'm concerned, it added another level of desperation.
Both Oklahoma and Texas already sport losses this year and a second loss this early in the season will put either program on the brink of fighting for their postseason lives.
We'll get with Coach Leon after the graphic to talk about the magnitude of the matchup, a surprising late-scratch, and if we're going to see more of the same from the Sooners' offense after their explosive effort against Auburn.
•••
#7 Oklahoma Sooners (4-1) | Description | #9 Texas Longhorns (4-1) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 97 Overall // 96 Offense // 99 Defense | Team Rating | 99 Overall // 99 Offense // 99 Defense Armando Leon (46-5) | Head Coach | Lane Kiffin (58-18) Air Raid | Offensive Scheme | Veer and Shoot 3-3-5 | Defensive Scheme | 4-2-5 50.0 (3rd) | Offensive Points Per Game | 38.0 (36th) 19.0 (14th) | Defensive Points Per Game | 28.0 (84th) 453.0 (34th) | Offensive Yards Per Game | 481.6 (16th) 302.2 (7th) | Defensive Yards Per Game | 467.6 (131st)
Oklahoma Sooners | Description | Texas Longhorns --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 41-21 | Combined Record | 34-21 @ Miami (3-2) W 31-26 | Week One | Cal (4-2) W 52-44 Nebraska (4-1) W 81-14 | Week Two | FCS W 42-10 South Carolina (1-5) W 44-10 | Week Three | UTEP (0-4) W 38-17 Oregon (5-0) L 38-35 | Week Four | BYE BYE | Week Five | @ LSU (3-2) W 34-31 Auburn (4-2) W 59-7 | Week Six | Georgia (4-1) L 38-24
Oklahoma Sooners Texas Longhorns --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HB Isaac Adcock (90) Abdominal Tear (2 Weeks) | Injuries | G Anthony Sills (92) Hamstring Tear (1 Week) DE Martin D'Imperio (87) Suspension (1 Week) | Injuries | DT Connor Hurns (87) Broken Ribs (2 Weeks)
Oklahoma Sooners 2031 Stats Texas Longhorns --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SO Markelle Nickey (88) 143/205 (69%), 1,425 Yds, 18 TD, 7 INT | QB | SO(RS) Ethan Spiegel (89) 148/236 (62%), 1,966 Yds, 20 TD, 4 INT FR Tyler Ryder (81) 63 Att, 416 Yds, 4 TD | HB | JR(RS) Oscar Cheridor (85) 92 Att, 325 Yds, 3 TD JR(RS) Johnny Chubb (91) 20 Rec, 255 Yds, 3 TD | WR | SR(RS) Klay Steinmetz (91) 45 Rec, 640 Yds, 6 TD SR(RS) Dillon Booker (90) 23 Rec, 269 Yds, 2 TD | WR | JR Zach Shepley (92) 30 Rec, 444 Yds, 4 TD FR SS Quincy Enagbare (80) 28 Tkl, 4 TFL, 1.5 Sack, 3 INT | DEF | SO(RS) CB Juan Lake (89) 33 Tkl, INT SR MLB Gordon Paul (92) 29 Tkl, 6 TFL, 2.5 Sacks | DEF | JR(RS) DT Matthew Brady (90) 21 Tkl, 9 TFL, 5 Sacks JR DT Cole Leo (93) 15 Tkl, 12 TFL, 4 Sacks | DEF | SR(RS) DE Denton Biggs (91) 17 Tkl, 7 TFL, 3 Sacks JR(RS) FS Devin Coleman (92) 36 Tkl, 2 TFL, Sack, 2 INT | DEF | SR CB George Chavis (90) 23 Tkl, 3 INT
SEC Week Seven Schedule
► Show Spoiler
► Show Spoiler
•••
Schooner Scoop
BT: "It's time for yet another Red River Shootout. In years past one, or sometimes both of the clubs, came into the game undefeated with a top-five ranking. And while this year still boasts the fifth and ninth-ranked teams, each sports a loss early in the season. What does that do to up the ante on the intensity when both teams know a second loss puts them on the brink?"
AL: "We should always be playing desperate against our biggest rival, but you can't deny the optics. A loss by either of us makes the rest of the season must-win. We need to make sure we keep our flexibility, keep our foot down, and power through Dallas with a victory."
BT: "What's the word on Martin D'Imperio, whom I'm being told is a late scratch for tomorrow's game?"
AL: "Martin is being suspended for a game for disciplinary reasons. It's a matter we're addressing internally and doesn't need to be discussed further. When we take the field against Vanderbilt next week, we fully expect Martin to be practiced and ready."
BT: "Last one, Coach. After a frustrating three-interception performance against Oregon, Markelle Nickey bounced back in a big way. What does the offense need to do in order for that trend to continue?"
AL: "Execute on first down. We can't be facing second and third-and-long if we want to keep Nickey in rhythm. Once you start needing big plays, instead of taking them when they come, you're asking for trouble. We do that and I love our chances."
•••
I'm not going to wax poetic this week, folks. I hate Texas, loathe Lane Kiffin, and can't wait to see a third helping of BBQ'd Longhorn courtesy of Leon and Co.
Texas has an explosive offense, but an equally porous defense. As is the case in most games, we have the defensive advantage and I expect that to propel us to victory.
Texas 24, Oklahoma 31.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7298
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
No Father's Son
Can't stumble here. Don't know if James would ever let that go.
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5484
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
nah, never thatCaptain Canada wrote: ↑14 Jun 2026, 11:18Can't stumble here. Don't know if James would ever let that go.
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5484
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
Chapter Fifty-Four: New Beginnings
I had expected my interview with Maria Taylor and the details about my past to linger throughout the season. To my surprise, once the season kicked off very few even mentioned the interview, Arturo, or anything else that didn’t revolve around football. The occasional jeer from an opposing fan cut through the noise, a shout of ‘Here comes the cartel!’ or ‘Where’s your Daddy!?!’ But even those died down to small smatterings by the third week of the season.
If my complicated legacy had still been a national story, the hysteria surrounding the Oregon loss would have certainly buried it for good. My simple decision to skip the post-game interview, a calculated decision on my part, had turned into a national firestorm. The headline of the Daily Texan the day after the loss said it all:
“Is Armando Leon A Sore Loser, Or Finally Being Exposed?”
Publicly, I said it was a decision not to make the narrative about me and Dan Lanning. Privately? That was the entire plan.
“Explain this again to me,” drawled Roger Denny the day before the game.
“Win or lose, I’m skipping the post-game press conference. I want the story to be about me, not the team. The more the narrative is about me, good or bad, the less pressure the team has.”
“We can’t forget, we’ve got a lot of young guys out there contributing. I don’t want them thrown into the fire before they get their feet wet.”
I’ll admit, losing the game wasn’t part of the plan. But it may have been the preferred outcome, given the circumstances.
With the loss, suddenly the narrative about chasing the wins record was gone. The frequent questions about joining the Minnesota Golden Gophers as the only teams to three-peat also disappeared, as if losing one game signaled we had no chance of joining the most elite ranks of college football royalty.
Usually, that type of slight would perturb me. This time, it was exactly what I wanted.
I thought I had the narrative under control. For the first time, I was free of any external stressors. No letters burning a hole in my bag. No mysterious figure threatening to expose my father’s sins.
Almost as quickly as I had captured that self-assurance, it went flying out the window.
We had rebounded with an emphatic win against Auburn, setting up another high-stakes Red River Shootout with the Texas Longhorns.
The Thursday before we travelled to Dallas for the Shootout, Jessica and I sat in my office, eating cheesecake and watching game film together. Last year’s game against the Longhorns played in the background, volume barely loud enough to register, as I jotted down a few last minutes notes with my right hand, left hand cradling a fork that was dangerously overloaded with cheesecake.
Just before the final bite toppled onto my desk, hanging precariously over the notes I’d just jotted down, I scooped it into my mouth in one smooth motion, earning a snort of laughter from Jessica.
“I swear that was going all over your notes-“ she started, before the trill of my phone cut through the low noise.
361 area code.
I exchanged a hesitant glance with Jessica, showing her the area code. We’d been looking for someone in Texas. The realization that the person we were looking for had found us first immediately crossed both our minds, a fact we didn’t need to vocalize for me to know it was true. Jessica put her own cheesecake down and nodded. I gulped down the bite of cheesecake—still half chewed—and hit the green answer button, thumbing the speaker alive at the same time.
“This is Armando.”
Silence for a second. It didn’t feel like an intimidating silence, however. I’d heard the breath hitch on the other end for a split second, almost like they were second guessing their decision to dial my number moments before I answered.
“I heard you’re looking for me?”
Less than twenty-four hours later I found myself at Mexican Sugar, not worrying about the upcoming matchup with the Texas Longhorns that could make or break our season, but rather stressing about how to make small talk with a man I hardly knew.
Seated across from me was the same man who startled me in Houston over a year ago. Raul. My half-brother.
Raul had finally reached out, using the number I’d written down for him in Houston, after hearing that I was looking for him. How he had heard that was among the many questions swirling in my brain as I sipped on my glass of sparkling water, watching him down a double shot of tequila in one smooth motion.
“Ahhh,” he breathed, absorbing the bite of the tequila before chasing it with the house tap beer. He looked up at me sipping my sparkling water, recognition firing across his face.
“Fuck, lo siento, hermano. This doesn’t bother you, does it?” He said, gesturing at the empty glass in front of him with his left hand, which held another double shot of tequila.
I waved the question off, “I wouldn’t have been very convincing with the good ol’ boys on the Sooners board of trustees if I couldn’t be at the table while they sipped their twenty-five year old whiskey, now would I?”
Raul slammed his hand on the table with a quick laugh, downing the second glass just as quickly as the first.
“What is bothering me,” I started after Raul sighed his approval after the burn of the second double of tequila settled, “Is why now, Raul?”
“Because I hated you before. I thought you were his favorito, the one he gave everything to. Mi mama knew about you and your mother. When he finally disappeared, she told me that he went to his “familia favorito” and to forget about him, like he forgot about us.”
“I saw you on the television, years later. After the death of your mama, talking about making her proud. Curiously, you never talked about our father, I thought you were ungrateful.”
“ I carried that hate for a long time. I just happened to be in Houston a year ago. I saw the flyer for the Sooner Caravan at some dive bar. After much liquid courage, I decided I wanted to face the boy who got everything.”
Then, with a small laugh, Raul added, “I didn’t expect so many people. Nearly got cold feet.”
The idea of Raul getting cold feet over a venue full of red blooded American’s brought a bout of uncontrollable laughter out of me, the kind that starts low in your chest before it erupts uncontrollably.
Raul’s eyebrows drew together as he tried to determine if I was laughing at him, or with him, before he determined my allegiance and joined the laughter.
Raul signaled the waitress to bring another double before continuing his answer.
“Anyway, I thought you were the ungrateful one. Imagine my surprise when I found out he abandoned you as well.”
The waitress had quietly brought Raul’s double, exchanging it for the two empty glasses with such quiet precision I would have thought it magic if I didn’t see the quick exchange myself.
“Then la rubia showed up.”
My eyebrows climbed at the phrase, picking up at the unease with which Raul said it, but not understanding the words behind it.
“Leslie,” he added with an eyeroll, still clearly annoyed our father never taught me Spanish.
The name was a slap to the face. Even though I’d waited for a sign of her, hell even expecting it, I had to admit I’d let my guard down after almost a year with no word.
“Wait, you weren’t-“ I started, my voice quickly rising from the ease conversational tone that had carried the conversation into a more pointed octave.
Raul leaned forward onto the table, both elbows causing a sudden shift that nearly toppled the double sitting by his arm, a gesture that quickly closed the distance.
“No,” he said firmly. Between the sudden shift of his posture and the firmness in his voice, I believed him.
I took a deep breath, bringing the sparkling water up and taking a long pull before gesturing Raul to continue.
He leaned back, swooping up the double and downing it again in the same smooth motion. No grimace as the burn settled this time. It was the feeling a younger Armando would have been jealous of, that feeling of warmth spreading across your body until you couldn’t tell when more was added to the already surging flame.
“I wasn’t a part of her plan. I’d seen her before; with our father and once after his disappearance. She came through, offering money for info on Arturo. I assumed he’d left her high and dry like us, because once she was confident we weren’t lying, she quickly disappeared.”
“Until this summer. She showed up, pounding on my door. How she found me, I’ll never know. But she demanded my help. She wanted to try and frame you; for me to plant drugs on you. She never said it, but I figured out she was the one blackmailing you that prompted the interview with Taylor.”
“When demanding didn’t work, she tried to seduce me. When I turned her down, she threatened to go to the policia with the info she had about my…less than legal business ventures.”
Raul paused, rubbing the stubble on his chin, deliberating how to continue without further implicating himself more than he already had.
“I told her that with those same business ventures I’d come in contact with some people who I was sure would be interested in her former activities with our father. I offered to set up a meeting.”
Again, my eyebrows went up in confusion. “You aren’t telling me you offered her a job after all she did, are you?”
Raul stared at me in amazement for a moment, before huffing a laugh. “No, estupido. I threatened to tell the cartel where she was. I don’t know if they’d still be looking for her or not, but the hollow threat was enough to send her slinking away. Haven’t seen her since.”
Raul ended his recounting of the story as matter-of-factly as if he had detailed his latest trip to the bank. To him, this was just another day in the life of a petty criminal. He turned and signaled for the waitress again, holding the empty glass.
I started to protest, point out that he’d already consumed enough alcohol to floor most men before dinner, but caught myself just before the words passed my lips.
Unaware of my near correction, Raul turned to me and picked up right where we left off.
“Anyways, that’s the story. I answered one of your questions. Now it’s your turn.”
I nodded and put both my hands out at my sides, gesturing fair enough, signaling him to fire away.
“Why were you looking for me, so soon after being rid of that sanguijuela?”
More confusion on my end. At this rate, my eyebrows were going to remain raised in a look of confusion.
Raul laughed to himself again as the waitress arrived with his fourth double. He took the glass directly from her outstretched, well manicured hand, downed the drink, and returned it before she had time to turn heel.
“Would you like another one, sir?” She asked sweetly, ignoring the fact he had just plucked the drink clean from her hand before she could protest.
“Nah, bring me a picante michelada,” he answered, unaware of the soft sigh I let out at his answer. I wasn’t eager to carry my brother out of the restaurant after our first official meeting.
“It means leech, Mando,” he said, returning to our conversation.
My mouth made that small O of recognition as I nodded, approving of the nickname for Leslie. She was indeed a leech.
The question sat there, waiting to be answered. As did Raul, teetering closer to inebriation the longer the tequila worked its way into his bloodstream. His eyes were already glassy, flush showing through his cheeks despite his tanned complexion.
“Because I think you deserve the chance our father never gave you.”
Raul’s lips drew thin, not in disapproval, but of recognition as he nodded his head.
The conversation turned more casual from there, with both of our intent laid bare on the table. A meeting that I would have thought was the end of something a year ago, now felt more like the beginning than ever before.
I had expected my interview with Maria Taylor and the details about my past to linger throughout the season. To my surprise, once the season kicked off very few even mentioned the interview, Arturo, or anything else that didn’t revolve around football. The occasional jeer from an opposing fan cut through the noise, a shout of ‘Here comes the cartel!’ or ‘Where’s your Daddy!?!’ But even those died down to small smatterings by the third week of the season.
If my complicated legacy had still been a national story, the hysteria surrounding the Oregon loss would have certainly buried it for good. My simple decision to skip the post-game interview, a calculated decision on my part, had turned into a national firestorm. The headline of the Daily Texan the day after the loss said it all:
“Is Armando Leon A Sore Loser, Or Finally Being Exposed?”
Publicly, I said it was a decision not to make the narrative about me and Dan Lanning. Privately? That was the entire plan.
“Explain this again to me,” drawled Roger Denny the day before the game.
“Win or lose, I’m skipping the post-game press conference. I want the story to be about me, not the team. The more the narrative is about me, good or bad, the less pressure the team has.”
“We can’t forget, we’ve got a lot of young guys out there contributing. I don’t want them thrown into the fire before they get their feet wet.”
I’ll admit, losing the game wasn’t part of the plan. But it may have been the preferred outcome, given the circumstances.
With the loss, suddenly the narrative about chasing the wins record was gone. The frequent questions about joining the Minnesota Golden Gophers as the only teams to three-peat also disappeared, as if losing one game signaled we had no chance of joining the most elite ranks of college football royalty.
Usually, that type of slight would perturb me. This time, it was exactly what I wanted.
I thought I had the narrative under control. For the first time, I was free of any external stressors. No letters burning a hole in my bag. No mysterious figure threatening to expose my father’s sins.
Almost as quickly as I had captured that self-assurance, it went flying out the window.
We had rebounded with an emphatic win against Auburn, setting up another high-stakes Red River Shootout with the Texas Longhorns.
The Thursday before we travelled to Dallas for the Shootout, Jessica and I sat in my office, eating cheesecake and watching game film together. Last year’s game against the Longhorns played in the background, volume barely loud enough to register, as I jotted down a few last minutes notes with my right hand, left hand cradling a fork that was dangerously overloaded with cheesecake.
Just before the final bite toppled onto my desk, hanging precariously over the notes I’d just jotted down, I scooped it into my mouth in one smooth motion, earning a snort of laughter from Jessica.
“I swear that was going all over your notes-“ she started, before the trill of my phone cut through the low noise.
361 area code.
I exchanged a hesitant glance with Jessica, showing her the area code. We’d been looking for someone in Texas. The realization that the person we were looking for had found us first immediately crossed both our minds, a fact we didn’t need to vocalize for me to know it was true. Jessica put her own cheesecake down and nodded. I gulped down the bite of cheesecake—still half chewed—and hit the green answer button, thumbing the speaker alive at the same time.
“This is Armando.”
Silence for a second. It didn’t feel like an intimidating silence, however. I’d heard the breath hitch on the other end for a split second, almost like they were second guessing their decision to dial my number moments before I answered.
“I heard you’re looking for me?”
Less than twenty-four hours later I found myself at Mexican Sugar, not worrying about the upcoming matchup with the Texas Longhorns that could make or break our season, but rather stressing about how to make small talk with a man I hardly knew.
Seated across from me was the same man who startled me in Houston over a year ago. Raul. My half-brother.
Raul had finally reached out, using the number I’d written down for him in Houston, after hearing that I was looking for him. How he had heard that was among the many questions swirling in my brain as I sipped on my glass of sparkling water, watching him down a double shot of tequila in one smooth motion.
“Ahhh,” he breathed, absorbing the bite of the tequila before chasing it with the house tap beer. He looked up at me sipping my sparkling water, recognition firing across his face.
“Fuck, lo siento, hermano. This doesn’t bother you, does it?” He said, gesturing at the empty glass in front of him with his left hand, which held another double shot of tequila.
I waved the question off, “I wouldn’t have been very convincing with the good ol’ boys on the Sooners board of trustees if I couldn’t be at the table while they sipped their twenty-five year old whiskey, now would I?”
Raul slammed his hand on the table with a quick laugh, downing the second glass just as quickly as the first.
“What is bothering me,” I started after Raul sighed his approval after the burn of the second double of tequila settled, “Is why now, Raul?”
“Because I hated you before. I thought you were his favorito, the one he gave everything to. Mi mama knew about you and your mother. When he finally disappeared, she told me that he went to his “familia favorito” and to forget about him, like he forgot about us.”
“I saw you on the television, years later. After the death of your mama, talking about making her proud. Curiously, you never talked about our father, I thought you were ungrateful.”
“ I carried that hate for a long time. I just happened to be in Houston a year ago. I saw the flyer for the Sooner Caravan at some dive bar. After much liquid courage, I decided I wanted to face the boy who got everything.”
Then, with a small laugh, Raul added, “I didn’t expect so many people. Nearly got cold feet.”
The idea of Raul getting cold feet over a venue full of red blooded American’s brought a bout of uncontrollable laughter out of me, the kind that starts low in your chest before it erupts uncontrollably.
Raul’s eyebrows drew together as he tried to determine if I was laughing at him, or with him, before he determined my allegiance and joined the laughter.
Raul signaled the waitress to bring another double before continuing his answer.
“Anyway, I thought you were the ungrateful one. Imagine my surprise when I found out he abandoned you as well.”
The waitress had quietly brought Raul’s double, exchanging it for the two empty glasses with such quiet precision I would have thought it magic if I didn’t see the quick exchange myself.
“Then la rubia showed up.”
My eyebrows climbed at the phrase, picking up at the unease with which Raul said it, but not understanding the words behind it.
“Leslie,” he added with an eyeroll, still clearly annoyed our father never taught me Spanish.
The name was a slap to the face. Even though I’d waited for a sign of her, hell even expecting it, I had to admit I’d let my guard down after almost a year with no word.
“Wait, you weren’t-“ I started, my voice quickly rising from the ease conversational tone that had carried the conversation into a more pointed octave.
Raul leaned forward onto the table, both elbows causing a sudden shift that nearly toppled the double sitting by his arm, a gesture that quickly closed the distance.
“No,” he said firmly. Between the sudden shift of his posture and the firmness in his voice, I believed him.
I took a deep breath, bringing the sparkling water up and taking a long pull before gesturing Raul to continue.
He leaned back, swooping up the double and downing it again in the same smooth motion. No grimace as the burn settled this time. It was the feeling a younger Armando would have been jealous of, that feeling of warmth spreading across your body until you couldn’t tell when more was added to the already surging flame.
“I wasn’t a part of her plan. I’d seen her before; with our father and once after his disappearance. She came through, offering money for info on Arturo. I assumed he’d left her high and dry like us, because once she was confident we weren’t lying, she quickly disappeared.”
“Until this summer. She showed up, pounding on my door. How she found me, I’ll never know. But she demanded my help. She wanted to try and frame you; for me to plant drugs on you. She never said it, but I figured out she was the one blackmailing you that prompted the interview with Taylor.”
“When demanding didn’t work, she tried to seduce me. When I turned her down, she threatened to go to the policia with the info she had about my…less than legal business ventures.”
Raul paused, rubbing the stubble on his chin, deliberating how to continue without further implicating himself more than he already had.
“I told her that with those same business ventures I’d come in contact with some people who I was sure would be interested in her former activities with our father. I offered to set up a meeting.”
Again, my eyebrows went up in confusion. “You aren’t telling me you offered her a job after all she did, are you?”
Raul stared at me in amazement for a moment, before huffing a laugh. “No, estupido. I threatened to tell the cartel where she was. I don’t know if they’d still be looking for her or not, but the hollow threat was enough to send her slinking away. Haven’t seen her since.”
Raul ended his recounting of the story as matter-of-factly as if he had detailed his latest trip to the bank. To him, this was just another day in the life of a petty criminal. He turned and signaled for the waitress again, holding the empty glass.
I started to protest, point out that he’d already consumed enough alcohol to floor most men before dinner, but caught myself just before the words passed my lips.
Unaware of my near correction, Raul turned to me and picked up right where we left off.
“Anyways, that’s the story. I answered one of your questions. Now it’s your turn.”
I nodded and put both my hands out at my sides, gesturing fair enough, signaling him to fire away.
“Why were you looking for me, so soon after being rid of that sanguijuela?”
More confusion on my end. At this rate, my eyebrows were going to remain raised in a look of confusion.
Raul laughed to himself again as the waitress arrived with his fourth double. He took the glass directly from her outstretched, well manicured hand, downed the drink, and returned it before she had time to turn heel.
“Would you like another one, sir?” She asked sweetly, ignoring the fact he had just plucked the drink clean from her hand before she could protest.
“Nah, bring me a picante michelada,” he answered, unaware of the soft sigh I let out at his answer. I wasn’t eager to carry my brother out of the restaurant after our first official meeting.
“It means leech, Mando,” he said, returning to our conversation.
My mouth made that small O of recognition as I nodded, approving of the nickname for Leslie. She was indeed a leech.
The question sat there, waiting to be answered. As did Raul, teetering closer to inebriation the longer the tequila worked its way into his bloodstream. His eyes were already glassy, flush showing through his cheeks despite his tanned complexion.
“Because I think you deserve the chance our father never gave you.”
Raul’s lips drew thin, not in disapproval, but of recognition as he nodded his head.
The conversation turned more casual from there, with both of our intent laid bare on the table. A meeting that I would have thought was the end of something a year ago, now felt more like the beginning than ever before.
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djp73
- Posts: 12765
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
No Father's Son
Raul about to be an assistant coach?
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Soapy
- Posts: 15461
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
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redsox907
Topic author - Posts: 5484
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
No Father's Son
bringing in a petty criminal to be an assistant coach would be a Lane Kiffin esque move
don't make me drag Mario again