Way these two go at it, may not be a future for one of them
Dying to Live
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The JZA
- Posts: 9389
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16735
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Water and Oil
Romeo shifted uneasily on the worn log, the rough bark pressing into his jeans as he watched the flames dance in the firepit. It was an unusually cool night down the bayou, but the fire’s warmth barely reached him, causing him to pull his hood up over his head to stave off the chill from the air. Around him, laughter and conversation flowed effortlessly among a group of people he’d mostly never met before, save for Britni.
She sat on a cushioned camping chair next to him, having not felt the need to suggest they share the chair before he found the log to serve as a seat. She chatted animatedly with her friends, her face illuminated by the firelight.
“Mrs. Arceneaux stays on my ass about that damn AP test,” one of her friends, T-Cody, said. He shifted in his oversized camouflage jacket before resting his arm around the shoulders of the girl sitting next to him. “I keep telling her that I don’t need to do that shit, but y’all know she doesn’t listen.”
“That’s ‘cause that’s your cousin, baw,” Nick, another of the guys around the fire, said in a heavy Cajun accent. “Tell Big Cody to tell her she can’t come to Christmas.”
Romeo joined the laughter awkwardly, the only one in the group that didn’t get the joke as he didn’t know who the teacher in question was.
He glanced at Britni, but she was lost in her world as they moved the conversation to something else that’d happened at school, her laughter mingling with the others’. He shifted again, the log seeming harder. He had a brief thought to sit on the ground, feeling it would be more comfortable, but shook it away remembering that he was already the only one not sitting in a chair.
He took a sip from the mostly-full beer he’d been nursing for the better part of an hour. It was some kind of craft beer, a stark contrast to the alcohol he was used to at parties on the other side of the parish and definitely different from what he’d find at kickbacks in the neighborhood.
It was only the second beer he’d had since he and Britni arrived hours ago, and he’d poured the other one out next to a tree while feigning that he had to take a piss.
“Baw, you fish?” Nick asked Romeo, gesturing toward him with the can of Coors he held before nodding to T-Cody. “We’re going to Big Cody’s camp on Lake Palourde next week.”
“Nah, I ain’t never fished. I like my fish already fried by the time it gets to me,” he said.
The laughter that followed his comment had an edge of polite condescension about it. Britni stole a glance in his direction and shook her head.
“Your daddy ain’t teach you to fish, man?” a third guy, Sheldon, asked.
Romeo shook his head. “He’s in j—”
“He passed when Romeo was young,” Britni said, cutting in over him and answering the question. She looked over at Romeo with an expectant glare. “I can’t imagine how hard it’d be growing up with your dad.”
“Yeah, when I was young,” Romeo said, corroborating Britni’s answer. “There’s not that much water in Bayou Terrebonne on that end of the parish anyway. You won’t be fishing out anything, but a couple boots.”
“Oh, yeah. You got to Terrebonne. You stay in Summerfield or Southdown West, right?” the girl sitting next to T-Cody, Ashley, asked.
“No?” Romeo asked, confusion etching his face, before Britni jabbed his leg with her foot. He looked up at her, eyebrows furrowing.
“Off Hollywood Road. Where they’re building that new subdivision off Valhi,” she said, answering for him again.
Romeo took a choking swig from the beer, suddenly not interested in being a part of the conversation. When it switched to the pending trip to Lake Palourde, he had no problem keeping his mouth shut and keeping to himself.
…
Romeo leaned back onto his knees, pulling his pants up before shuffling from between Britni’s legs to one side of the tent they were in. She straightened her clothes and slipped into an oversized sleeping bag, keeping it unzipped for Romeo.
He ignored the gesture, laying back on the thinly covered ground with his arms behind his head.
“Suit yourself,” Britni said, zipping the bag up.
“I wouldn’t want my poor to rub off on your sleeping bag or anything,” he said, his tone tense as he stared up at the top of the tent.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. Telling your friends that my dad’s dead and that I live in some fancy ass neighborhood off Valhi. If I ain’t good enough for you, you probably shouldn’t be letting me nut in you.”
“No one said that shit. But you don’t need to remind everyone you’re from the fucking ghetto every chance you get. You’re going to be around more people like them,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the other tents. “Than you will people like your brother when you get to college.”
He sucked his teeth, angered by her comment despite being on the outs with Royce. “Nigga going to college to play ball. I’m going to be around other niggas from the hood who at the school to play ball, not kids with camps on Lake Palourde.”
“That’s your fucking problem. You let where you grew up define you. That shit not cute even at your age.”
“And you don’t? We’re the only two Black people out here. Find me some other Black people who’d be camping out in the fucking woods in Bourg. Go up the road to Village East or the Circle and ask them if they want to come camping.”
“At least the shit I do won’t get me thrown in jail or knocked up.”
“You said on the way here that Ashley and T-Cody have a fucking kid!”
Now, she sucked her teeth. “That’s different.”
“Different because they’re white and from down the bayou.”
“Think whatever you want, Romeo.”
He turned onto his side, his back facing her, no longer interested in continuing the conversation He heard the sleeping bag zip up and her shifting, likely doing the same.
~~~~~~~~~~
The bass thumped through the walls, making framed photos of a suburban family with their dogs vibrate in their places. Royce navigated through the crowded living room, dodging stray elbows and attempting to drink from a cup filled with lukewarm Hennessey. The air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume, cologne, the tang of cheap alcohol and the unmistakable impending regret of backyard romps.
As the brown liquor went down his throat, he grimaced slightly at the taste. Around him, clusters of people were engaged in animated conversations, their voices and laughter rising above the music whenever he was close enough to them.
Royce scanned the crowd, looking for Arianna and Toni who had promptly disappeared into the throng upon their arrival.
He spotted an empty space against the wall in the dining room and made his way over, squeezing past a couple starting their later bedroom activities a little early despite the dozens of people surrounding them. He leaned against the wall, his jacket scratching against the sheetrock as he moved. He took another sip from his cup as the music shifted to a faster beat, the partygoers responding with a whoop.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Heidi standing next to him, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. She reached over and took the cup from Royce’s hand, finishing the rest of the Hennessey in one gulp.
The smile never faded from her lips as she gave him back the cup.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, leaning closer to him so he could hear over the din of the music.
“I haven’t been doing shit. You told me that your man back in for a little stretch. I ain’t no homewrecker, baby,” he said, debating whether or not he wanted to squeeze back to the opposite side of the house to refill his drink.
“He is.”
“Well, then. Unless you want to come to my grandma house or let me come to your house, ain’t nothing to be avoiding.”
“Where does your grandma live? I’ll come over there.”
He stared at her for a moment, attempting to discern if she was joking or not, but there was no hint of it on her face. He chuckled, imagining Ma Beulah’s face if she caught him with a white girl in her house, considering he’d been sleeping on the sofa as all of the beds in her house were occupied.
“You a wild one if you think I’m bringing your white ass in Beulah Johnson house.”
She rolled her eyes. “Old Black women love me.”
“Call her an old Black woman and see how far that gets you.”
“I don’t know why you’re acting like you don’t want me, Royce. Just let me come by,” she said, her voice firm.
“You’re gonna get us both caught up.”
Before she could respond a hand landed on her shoulder. Both she and Royce looked up to see her boyfriend, Jaxon, standing next to her.
“Come on. I’m ready to go,” he said to Heidi.
“Just a minute,” she said, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.
Royce raised the empty cup to his lips, pushing away from the wall to disappear into the crowd.
Jaxon looked at him once and then twice, realization crossing his face. “You’re the dude I saw on my Ring camera the other day.”
“Nah, wasn’t me, homie,” Royce said.
“What camera?” Heidi asked, stepping in front of Jaxon.
“At the apartment. You were there. It was late. I got the notification,” he said before shoving Heidi away from him. “You’re cheating on me, again?!”
“Again? God damn, bruh. Have some self-respect. Nigga, you like 30,” Royce said, only serving to make Jaxon angrier.
“Look, we can talk about this,” Heidi said, her voice pleading.
Royce decided to get out of the lovers’ quarrel, spying the open back door on the opposite side of the dining room. He made for it, Jaxon and Heidi’s voices fading into the music as he put some distance between them.
But just as he was about to step outside, he was shoved from behind, sending him stumbling into the grass.
Royce caught his balance and turned around just as Jaxon was throwing a haymaker at his head. He ducked under it and tackled him to the ground. Royce landed a couple of blows before he was pulled off Jaxon by a pair of partygoers who were outside.
Three more guys ran out of the house, looked at Jaxon, now being attended to by Heidi, then zeroed in on Royce.
Not waiting to find out their intentions, Royce sprinted for the nearest fence. Planting his foot on it, he vaulted over it, landing with a thud in a garden on the other side. He heard voices shouting at him, followed by the tell tale sound of feet on wood. Getting to his feet, he ran to the opposite side of the yard and jumped the next fence.
He kept running until he’d gone through four or five yards before he jumped a fence to head toward the street.
…
Royce sat on the curb outside a local grocery store, rubbing at his knee, sore from running and jumping. Headlights bath the pavement in white light as a car pulled into the empty parking lot, slowing to a stop in front of him.
He eyed the car for a moment before the back door opened to reveal Arianna. She moved over to let Royce get in. Toni glanced back from the front passenger seat as her boyfriend Deshawn scrolled through Twitter on his phone in the driver’s seat.
“Appreciate you coming pick me up, my nigga,” Royce said, reaching his hand out for Deshawn to dap up.
He returned the gesture before sitting up to put the car in drive, turning up the radio that was playing an NBA YoungBoy song. “It’s all good, bruh,” he said.
Royce shared a look at Arianna and then Toni, who shook her head before turning back around in the seat.
“Can’t take you nowhere without you getting in fights, huh?” Arianna asked Royce.
“What can I say? I’d never live it down in the Bricks if I let a white boy sneak me,” he said, shrugging.
“This why you my favorite cousin. Always standing on business,” Arianna said, laughing.
Royce leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes for the short ride back to the neighborhood.
Romeo shifted uneasily on the worn log, the rough bark pressing into his jeans as he watched the flames dance in the firepit. It was an unusually cool night down the bayou, but the fire’s warmth barely reached him, causing him to pull his hood up over his head to stave off the chill from the air. Around him, laughter and conversation flowed effortlessly among a group of people he’d mostly never met before, save for Britni.
She sat on a cushioned camping chair next to him, having not felt the need to suggest they share the chair before he found the log to serve as a seat. She chatted animatedly with her friends, her face illuminated by the firelight.
“Mrs. Arceneaux stays on my ass about that damn AP test,” one of her friends, T-Cody, said. He shifted in his oversized camouflage jacket before resting his arm around the shoulders of the girl sitting next to him. “I keep telling her that I don’t need to do that shit, but y’all know she doesn’t listen.”
“That’s ‘cause that’s your cousin, baw,” Nick, another of the guys around the fire, said in a heavy Cajun accent. “Tell Big Cody to tell her she can’t come to Christmas.”
Romeo joined the laughter awkwardly, the only one in the group that didn’t get the joke as he didn’t know who the teacher in question was.
He glanced at Britni, but she was lost in her world as they moved the conversation to something else that’d happened at school, her laughter mingling with the others’. He shifted again, the log seeming harder. He had a brief thought to sit on the ground, feeling it would be more comfortable, but shook it away remembering that he was already the only one not sitting in a chair.
He took a sip from the mostly-full beer he’d been nursing for the better part of an hour. It was some kind of craft beer, a stark contrast to the alcohol he was used to at parties on the other side of the parish and definitely different from what he’d find at kickbacks in the neighborhood.
It was only the second beer he’d had since he and Britni arrived hours ago, and he’d poured the other one out next to a tree while feigning that he had to take a piss.
“Baw, you fish?” Nick asked Romeo, gesturing toward him with the can of Coors he held before nodding to T-Cody. “We’re going to Big Cody’s camp on Lake Palourde next week.”
“Nah, I ain’t never fished. I like my fish already fried by the time it gets to me,” he said.
The laughter that followed his comment had an edge of polite condescension about it. Britni stole a glance in his direction and shook her head.
“Your daddy ain’t teach you to fish, man?” a third guy, Sheldon, asked.
Romeo shook his head. “He’s in j—”
“He passed when Romeo was young,” Britni said, cutting in over him and answering the question. She looked over at Romeo with an expectant glare. “I can’t imagine how hard it’d be growing up with your dad.”
“Yeah, when I was young,” Romeo said, corroborating Britni’s answer. “There’s not that much water in Bayou Terrebonne on that end of the parish anyway. You won’t be fishing out anything, but a couple boots.”
“Oh, yeah. You got to Terrebonne. You stay in Summerfield or Southdown West, right?” the girl sitting next to T-Cody, Ashley, asked.
“No?” Romeo asked, confusion etching his face, before Britni jabbed his leg with her foot. He looked up at her, eyebrows furrowing.
“Off Hollywood Road. Where they’re building that new subdivision off Valhi,” she said, answering for him again.
Romeo took a choking swig from the beer, suddenly not interested in being a part of the conversation. When it switched to the pending trip to Lake Palourde, he had no problem keeping his mouth shut and keeping to himself.
…
Romeo leaned back onto his knees, pulling his pants up before shuffling from between Britni’s legs to one side of the tent they were in. She straightened her clothes and slipped into an oversized sleeping bag, keeping it unzipped for Romeo.
He ignored the gesture, laying back on the thinly covered ground with his arms behind his head.
“Suit yourself,” Britni said, zipping the bag up.
“I wouldn’t want my poor to rub off on your sleeping bag or anything,” he said, his tone tense as he stared up at the top of the tent.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. Telling your friends that my dad’s dead and that I live in some fancy ass neighborhood off Valhi. If I ain’t good enough for you, you probably shouldn’t be letting me nut in you.”
“No one said that shit. But you don’t need to remind everyone you’re from the fucking ghetto every chance you get. You’re going to be around more people like them,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the other tents. “Than you will people like your brother when you get to college.”
He sucked his teeth, angered by her comment despite being on the outs with Royce. “Nigga going to college to play ball. I’m going to be around other niggas from the hood who at the school to play ball, not kids with camps on Lake Palourde.”
“That’s your fucking problem. You let where you grew up define you. That shit not cute even at your age.”
“And you don’t? We’re the only two Black people out here. Find me some other Black people who’d be camping out in the fucking woods in Bourg. Go up the road to Village East or the Circle and ask them if they want to come camping.”
“At least the shit I do won’t get me thrown in jail or knocked up.”
“You said on the way here that Ashley and T-Cody have a fucking kid!”
Now, she sucked her teeth. “That’s different.”
“Different because they’re white and from down the bayou.”
“Think whatever you want, Romeo.”
He turned onto his side, his back facing her, no longer interested in continuing the conversation He heard the sleeping bag zip up and her shifting, likely doing the same.
~~~~~~~~~~
The bass thumped through the walls, making framed photos of a suburban family with their dogs vibrate in their places. Royce navigated through the crowded living room, dodging stray elbows and attempting to drink from a cup filled with lukewarm Hennessey. The air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume, cologne, the tang of cheap alcohol and the unmistakable impending regret of backyard romps.
As the brown liquor went down his throat, he grimaced slightly at the taste. Around him, clusters of people were engaged in animated conversations, their voices and laughter rising above the music whenever he was close enough to them.
Royce scanned the crowd, looking for Arianna and Toni who had promptly disappeared into the throng upon their arrival.
He spotted an empty space against the wall in the dining room and made his way over, squeezing past a couple starting their later bedroom activities a little early despite the dozens of people surrounding them. He leaned against the wall, his jacket scratching against the sheetrock as he moved. He took another sip from his cup as the music shifted to a faster beat, the partygoers responding with a whoop.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Heidi standing next to him, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. She reached over and took the cup from Royce’s hand, finishing the rest of the Hennessey in one gulp.
The smile never faded from her lips as she gave him back the cup.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, leaning closer to him so he could hear over the din of the music.
“I haven’t been doing shit. You told me that your man back in for a little stretch. I ain’t no homewrecker, baby,” he said, debating whether or not he wanted to squeeze back to the opposite side of the house to refill his drink.
“He is.”
“Well, then. Unless you want to come to my grandma house or let me come to your house, ain’t nothing to be avoiding.”
“Where does your grandma live? I’ll come over there.”
He stared at her for a moment, attempting to discern if she was joking or not, but there was no hint of it on her face. He chuckled, imagining Ma Beulah’s face if she caught him with a white girl in her house, considering he’d been sleeping on the sofa as all of the beds in her house were occupied.
“You a wild one if you think I’m bringing your white ass in Beulah Johnson house.”
She rolled her eyes. “Old Black women love me.”
“Call her an old Black woman and see how far that gets you.”
“I don’t know why you’re acting like you don’t want me, Royce. Just let me come by,” she said, her voice firm.
“You’re gonna get us both caught up.”
Before she could respond a hand landed on her shoulder. Both she and Royce looked up to see her boyfriend, Jaxon, standing next to her.
“Come on. I’m ready to go,” he said to Heidi.
“Just a minute,” she said, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.
Royce raised the empty cup to his lips, pushing away from the wall to disappear into the crowd.
Jaxon looked at him once and then twice, realization crossing his face. “You’re the dude I saw on my Ring camera the other day.”
“Nah, wasn’t me, homie,” Royce said.
“What camera?” Heidi asked, stepping in front of Jaxon.
“At the apartment. You were there. It was late. I got the notification,” he said before shoving Heidi away from him. “You’re cheating on me, again?!”
“Again? God damn, bruh. Have some self-respect. Nigga, you like 30,” Royce said, only serving to make Jaxon angrier.
“Look, we can talk about this,” Heidi said, her voice pleading.
Royce decided to get out of the lovers’ quarrel, spying the open back door on the opposite side of the dining room. He made for it, Jaxon and Heidi’s voices fading into the music as he put some distance between them.
But just as he was about to step outside, he was shoved from behind, sending him stumbling into the grass.
Royce caught his balance and turned around just as Jaxon was throwing a haymaker at his head. He ducked under it and tackled him to the ground. Royce landed a couple of blows before he was pulled off Jaxon by a pair of partygoers who were outside.
Three more guys ran out of the house, looked at Jaxon, now being attended to by Heidi, then zeroed in on Royce.
Not waiting to find out their intentions, Royce sprinted for the nearest fence. Planting his foot on it, he vaulted over it, landing with a thud in a garden on the other side. He heard voices shouting at him, followed by the tell tale sound of feet on wood. Getting to his feet, he ran to the opposite side of the yard and jumped the next fence.
He kept running until he’d gone through four or five yards before he jumped a fence to head toward the street.
…
Royce sat on the curb outside a local grocery store, rubbing at his knee, sore from running and jumping. Headlights bath the pavement in white light as a car pulled into the empty parking lot, slowing to a stop in front of him.
He eyed the car for a moment before the back door opened to reveal Arianna. She moved over to let Royce get in. Toni glanced back from the front passenger seat as her boyfriend Deshawn scrolled through Twitter on his phone in the driver’s seat.
“Appreciate you coming pick me up, my nigga,” Royce said, reaching his hand out for Deshawn to dap up.
He returned the gesture before sitting up to put the car in drive, turning up the radio that was playing an NBA YoungBoy song. “It’s all good, bruh,” he said.
Royce shared a look at Arianna and then Toni, who shook her head before turning back around in the seat.
“Can’t take you nowhere without you getting in fights, huh?” Arianna asked Royce.
“What can I say? I’d never live it down in the Bricks if I let a white boy sneak me,” he said, shrugging.
“This why you my favorite cousin. Always standing on business,” Arianna said, laughing.
Royce leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes for the short ride back to the neighborhood.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7770
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Oh we back! White women huh 
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djp73
- Posts: 13153
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
We back 
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Soapy
- Posts: 16405
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
at least Kam took his ass whooping like a man 
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16735
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
From the Block
Royce sat at the worn kitchen table in his grandmother’s house, tracing the faded floral patterns on the edge of the table with his finger. Years of wear and tear had ground the grooves down to the point they were almost flat and otherwise covered in scratches. The scent of grits and eggs still hung in the air from Ma Beulah’s typical Sunday morning breakfast before church. She’d offered some hog’s head cheese as well, but that was one food that Royce drew the line on.
He'd been sleeping there for five days, but the unwritten rules were clear. He couldn’t go home until his mother came to the house and took him to get something to eat as a sign of apology. Until then, it would be the itchy sofa in the living room serving as his bed.
Royce leaned back in his chair, his eyes lingering on the grooves as he lost himself in thought. The rhythmic hum of the old refrigerator filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards as the house settled.
He got up to reach for the coffee mug Ma Beulah had left for him when his phone began vibrating on the table. He stared at it for a moment, waiting for it to stop as he assumed it was a spam call. However, as the device continued to ring, he reluctantly picked it up.
Eyebrow raised at the 225 area code on the caller ID, he accepted the call.
“Hello?” he said, his voice rough from just waking up.
“This is a collect call from Dixon Correctional Institute from,” an automated voice announced before pausing to be replaced by his father’s. “Kevon Lafitte.” The automated voice finished its recording. “Do you accept the charges?”
Royce’s confusion only increased. His father hadn’t called in a couple years, and he couldn’t remember the last time that his mother had taken them to Jackson for a visit. It had to be around the time Roni started school.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“What’s up, Ro?” his father asked when the line connected.
“Ain’t nothing.”
“That’s good. I know this shit out the blue and shit. How’s football going? You and your brother still killing them out there?”
“It’s alright.”
Kevon sighed. “Like I said. I know this shit real random, but I’m calling because your sister came up here the other day and said you and Rome got into some shit with some young niggas down there. Wanted me to call your mama and try to convince her to let y’all go live in BR with her like Roni.”
“Rana went to Jackson?” Royce asked, shocked by the revelation.
Only Romeo took their father’s incarceration harder than Rana. As the second oldest behind Reg, it made sense. They were teenagers when Kevon was arrested and eventually sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.
When they would go for visitation in years past, Rana would refuse to go. Royce had always been under the impression that nothing would change that.
“She come up here every couple months,” Kevon said. “She said she got ol’ boy to set you up with Southern. You talk to them?”
“Yeah. They came to Houma.”
“That’s good, man. Look, who these young niggas is that y’all got into it with? Anyone I know?”
“I don’t know. These brothers, Jeremi and Jamie. Jeremi go to school with us. Jamie’s his older brother. He was up at Dixon or Hunt for a few years for a little bid. It ain’t nothing major. Jeremi and Rome got into it, and I knocked him out. That’s it. Rana’s blowing it up.”
“How the big brother come into it?”
“Rome said he caught him outside the Crime Stop and wanted him to fight Jeremi or some shit. You gotta ask him. I wasn’t there.”
Kevon laughed. “Romeo always was a soft little nigga. I guess you took all my genes in the womb. He should’ve just fought that nigga and called it a day.”
“He’s not trying to mess up all them scholarship offers he got coming in. I can’t say he’s wrong for that.”
“Wrong for being a pussy? C’mon, Ro. You know how niggas in the hood is. You run from one too many fights and next thing you know niggas is making you do all kinds of crazy shit on the block because they know they can.”
“I mean, he got big schools looking at him. They don’t want too many hardheads on their hands, especially someone who plays the position he does. Running backs are a dime a dozen.”
“Ro,” Kevon said, his voice turning stern. “I ain’t raise no punks. If a man ain’t got his respect, he ain’t got nothing. If Rome ain’t gonna go fight them because he worried about what some white folks gonna think then you go fight them. Southern a Black school. They know how it is.”
Royce had half a thought to respond that Kevon hadn’t done any raising of any of them, including Rana and Reg, but decided against it.
“That shit deaded, anyway. Jeremi’s not about nothing. As long as he’s not around his brother, he’s just talking. And Jamie’s on some pedophile shit. He’s probably going to be back in there before too long,” Royce said.
“Ro, you better do what’s right.”
Royce opened his mouth to continue the argument but shook his head and thought better of it. “This all you called for?”
“I don—You know what? Yeah,” Kevon said, anger seeping into his tone. “Tell your brother I called.”
“Got it.”
The line went dead moments after. Tossing the phone back on the table, Royce grabbed the coffee mug and dumped out its contents in the sink before walking over to the pot to refill it.
~~~~~~~~~~
The glow of the TV screen bathed the room in a soft, flickering light. Romeo was slouched on the floor against his bed, his fingers moving across the controller as he tried to work his way through the Lakers’ defense with his NBA 2K MyPlayer. The sounds of the animated commentators filled the room as he jacked up three and three with the game’s difficulty turned down.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he tried to dunk on virtual LeBron James only to get the ball stolen from his character.
Putting the controller down, he took a sip from a glass of sweet tea as the AI played against itself on the other end of the court. After a missed shot, he immediately called for a pass and dunked the ball on an open goal.
“King James, my ass,” he said.
Just as he was about to run back down the court, his phone began buzzing on the old, rickety TV stand in front of him. It lit up with an unfamiliar number. Glancing at it, then back at the screen, he decided to ignore it, assuming that it was a spam call.
As he jacked up a three from halfcourt, the phone began ringing again with the same number showing up on the screen. This time, the ding of a new voicemail followed the end of the ringing.
Shaking his head, assuming it was someone playing on his phone, he reached for his glass once again – only for the phone to start ringing once more.
Frustrated, he paused the game and reached forward to pick up the phone.
“Who this?” he answered, not bothering to keep the impatience out of his voice.
“Is this Romeo Lafitte? Did I get the right number?” A deep, authoritative voice came through the line, causing Romeo to sit up straighter.
“Oh, yeah. This is him,” he said.
“Romeo, how you doing, son? This is Coach Boulware at Kentucky. We really like what we’ve been seeing from you and would love to get you up here for a visit. You got a moment to chat?”
Romeo sprung up to his feet, knocking the forgotten glass of sweet tea over, and turned off the game. He ran his hand over his hair, suddenly feeling nervous as his mouth went dry. An SEC school was interested in him, something he’d dreamed of hearing since the first days he’d played football.
“Yeah, Coach. I do," he finally said.
Royce sat at the worn kitchen table in his grandmother’s house, tracing the faded floral patterns on the edge of the table with his finger. Years of wear and tear had ground the grooves down to the point they were almost flat and otherwise covered in scratches. The scent of grits and eggs still hung in the air from Ma Beulah’s typical Sunday morning breakfast before church. She’d offered some hog’s head cheese as well, but that was one food that Royce drew the line on.
He'd been sleeping there for five days, but the unwritten rules were clear. He couldn’t go home until his mother came to the house and took him to get something to eat as a sign of apology. Until then, it would be the itchy sofa in the living room serving as his bed.
Royce leaned back in his chair, his eyes lingering on the grooves as he lost himself in thought. The rhythmic hum of the old refrigerator filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards as the house settled.
He got up to reach for the coffee mug Ma Beulah had left for him when his phone began vibrating on the table. He stared at it for a moment, waiting for it to stop as he assumed it was a spam call. However, as the device continued to ring, he reluctantly picked it up.
Eyebrow raised at the 225 area code on the caller ID, he accepted the call.
“Hello?” he said, his voice rough from just waking up.
“This is a collect call from Dixon Correctional Institute from,” an automated voice announced before pausing to be replaced by his father’s. “Kevon Lafitte.” The automated voice finished its recording. “Do you accept the charges?”
Royce’s confusion only increased. His father hadn’t called in a couple years, and he couldn’t remember the last time that his mother had taken them to Jackson for a visit. It had to be around the time Roni started school.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“What’s up, Ro?” his father asked when the line connected.
“Ain’t nothing.”
“That’s good. I know this shit out the blue and shit. How’s football going? You and your brother still killing them out there?”
“It’s alright.”
Kevon sighed. “Like I said. I know this shit real random, but I’m calling because your sister came up here the other day and said you and Rome got into some shit with some young niggas down there. Wanted me to call your mama and try to convince her to let y’all go live in BR with her like Roni.”
“Rana went to Jackson?” Royce asked, shocked by the revelation.
Only Romeo took their father’s incarceration harder than Rana. As the second oldest behind Reg, it made sense. They were teenagers when Kevon was arrested and eventually sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.
When they would go for visitation in years past, Rana would refuse to go. Royce had always been under the impression that nothing would change that.
“She come up here every couple months,” Kevon said. “She said she got ol’ boy to set you up with Southern. You talk to them?”
“Yeah. They came to Houma.”
“That’s good, man. Look, who these young niggas is that y’all got into it with? Anyone I know?”
“I don’t know. These brothers, Jeremi and Jamie. Jeremi go to school with us. Jamie’s his older brother. He was up at Dixon or Hunt for a few years for a little bid. It ain’t nothing major. Jeremi and Rome got into it, and I knocked him out. That’s it. Rana’s blowing it up.”
“How the big brother come into it?”
“Rome said he caught him outside the Crime Stop and wanted him to fight Jeremi or some shit. You gotta ask him. I wasn’t there.”
Kevon laughed. “Romeo always was a soft little nigga. I guess you took all my genes in the womb. He should’ve just fought that nigga and called it a day.”
“He’s not trying to mess up all them scholarship offers he got coming in. I can’t say he’s wrong for that.”
“Wrong for being a pussy? C’mon, Ro. You know how niggas in the hood is. You run from one too many fights and next thing you know niggas is making you do all kinds of crazy shit on the block because they know they can.”
“I mean, he got big schools looking at him. They don’t want too many hardheads on their hands, especially someone who plays the position he does. Running backs are a dime a dozen.”
“Ro,” Kevon said, his voice turning stern. “I ain’t raise no punks. If a man ain’t got his respect, he ain’t got nothing. If Rome ain’t gonna go fight them because he worried about what some white folks gonna think then you go fight them. Southern a Black school. They know how it is.”
Royce had half a thought to respond that Kevon hadn’t done any raising of any of them, including Rana and Reg, but decided against it.
“That shit deaded, anyway. Jeremi’s not about nothing. As long as he’s not around his brother, he’s just talking. And Jamie’s on some pedophile shit. He’s probably going to be back in there before too long,” Royce said.
“Ro, you better do what’s right.”
Royce opened his mouth to continue the argument but shook his head and thought better of it. “This all you called for?”
“I don—You know what? Yeah,” Kevon said, anger seeping into his tone. “Tell your brother I called.”
“Got it.”
The line went dead moments after. Tossing the phone back on the table, Royce grabbed the coffee mug and dumped out its contents in the sink before walking over to the pot to refill it.
~~~~~~~~~~
The glow of the TV screen bathed the room in a soft, flickering light. Romeo was slouched on the floor against his bed, his fingers moving across the controller as he tried to work his way through the Lakers’ defense with his NBA 2K MyPlayer. The sounds of the animated commentators filled the room as he jacked up three and three with the game’s difficulty turned down.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he tried to dunk on virtual LeBron James only to get the ball stolen from his character.
Putting the controller down, he took a sip from a glass of sweet tea as the AI played against itself on the other end of the court. After a missed shot, he immediately called for a pass and dunked the ball on an open goal.
“King James, my ass,” he said.
Just as he was about to run back down the court, his phone began buzzing on the old, rickety TV stand in front of him. It lit up with an unfamiliar number. Glancing at it, then back at the screen, he decided to ignore it, assuming that it was a spam call.
As he jacked up a three from halfcourt, the phone began ringing again with the same number showing up on the screen. This time, the ding of a new voicemail followed the end of the ringing.
Shaking his head, assuming it was someone playing on his phone, he reached for his glass once again – only for the phone to start ringing once more.
Frustrated, he paused the game and reached forward to pick up the phone.
“Who this?” he answered, not bothering to keep the impatience out of his voice.
“Is this Romeo Lafitte? Did I get the right number?” A deep, authoritative voice came through the line, causing Romeo to sit up straighter.
“Oh, yeah. This is him,” he said.
“Romeo, how you doing, son? This is Coach Boulware at Kentucky. We really like what we’ve been seeing from you and would love to get you up here for a visit. You got a moment to chat?”
Romeo sprung up to his feet, knocking the forgotten glass of sweet tea over, and turned off the game. He ran his hand over his hair, suddenly feeling nervous as his mouth went dry. An SEC school was interested in him, something he’d dreamed of hearing since the first days he’d played football.
“Yeah, Coach. I do," he finally said.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7770
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
You think Romeo would be better prepared to get more random calls during the recruiting process. Good update nonetheless!
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16735
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Charity Case
“She fine, but she ain’t fine enough for you to be fighting grown men who pay taxes over. Ain’t like they don’t got plenty of white girls willing to give it up for some Taaka at this bitch.”
Royce shook his head as he walked to the parking lot with Jalen and Basil. The two of them had been giving him grief about his fight with Heidi’s boyfriend throughout practice despite his stance that not even Heidi herself cared about it.
The texts she’d sent him after third period asking – multiple times – for his grandmother’s address said as much.
“Y’all talking like bro 45 years old with a wife and kids. He graduated from this motherfucker last year,” Royce said. “Besides, neither one of you niggas getting any pussy to be trying to tell me how to handle my business.”
“Don’t put that on me. That’s him still blushing everytime a girl wink at him,” Basil said, pointing at Jalen.
Jalen shoved him. “How you go from talking about him and his problems to trying to clown me? Wasn’t that you over there on Burkwall hanging out with ol’ girl gay little brother on the chance she might give you some head?”
“Cass? Were you trying to get head from her or her brother?” Royce asked, eyebrow raised.
“Now, see. This why Black men can’t be open with each other. Y’all use that shit to mock a nigga. To clear my name, though, I did fuck Cass that day. Zaire just the homie. He cool people. So, it all worked out,” Basil said.
“That shit sound sus as fuck.”
“That’s what I said,” Jalen said, shrugging.
As Jalen and Basil continued to go back and forth, Royce dapped them both up as headed toward his car, the three boys parting ways.
Royce reached into his duffel bag for his phone, responding to Heidi’s texts and telling her to find somewhere else to meet if she wanted it that bad. He was holding firm to not bringing a white girl anywhere near Ma Beulah’s house.
He tossed his duffel into the backseat, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly as he closed the door. Leaning against the car for a moment, he checked his other messages, typing out a few responses before he headed home.
“Ro!”
He looked up to see Romeo hopping out of the passenger seat of Britni’s car and jogging toward him. Royce sucked his teeth, still annoyed about their fight and their mother taking Romeo’s side despite them sharing the blame equally.
“What you want, bruh?” Royce asked when Romeo came to a stop next to him.
“You still at Ma Beulah house?” he asked.
“You serious, nigga? Where the fuck you think I been? The City?”
Romeo held his hands up. “I don’t know, man. Arianna was telling me about that shit with that Heidi bitch you be fucking with on the low. I thought maybe she’d let you come stay at her boyfriend’s apartment while he offshore.”
“He ain’t offshore, but you should know that since you gossiping like the church mothers.”
“I ain’t come over here to fight with you. I’m just seeing how you doing and shit. Ma ain’t even really mad about that shit anymore. You could come home if you wanted.”
“Anyway,” Royce said, irritation dripping into his voice. “If you didn’t come over here for that, what you came over here for? I’m trying to go and I know Britni’s going to be over there getting pissed. Your phone probably blowing up right now with her telling you to hurry up.”
Romeo’s hand almost instinctively went to his pocket to check for his phone before he caught himself and shook his head.
“I got a call from Kentucky yesterday. They want me to come up there and check shit out.”
“Alright. Congratulations. You good now?”
“I told them that I’d only go out there if they’d set you up, too. They said that’s cool, and they’ll take a look at your tape to see about working something out for you if they have to get us on some package deal type shit.”
Royce sucked his teeth. “That ain’t say that shit. You just trying to make it sound like you tried to give me some shine. Don’t act like I ain’t been there for every other coach that’s talked to you. You only looking out for yourself.”
“Bruh, you want the man number to call him yourself?”
“Nah, I’m good on that. None of this shit got anything to do with me. I ain’t forget how you were talking a couple weeks ago. You’re just trying to make yourself feel better and I ain’t no fucking charity case. Enjoy that trip, though.”
Romeo shook his head before starting to back away. “You one bitter ass nigga sometimes. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Yeah, well, I ain’t ask for it, nigga,” Royce said. He turned around to open his car door, getting into the driver’s seat.
He watched as Romeo got back into Britni’s car and she pulled out of the parking lot. He flipped off the car despite knowing they were much too far away to see the gesture before starting his own car up to head to his grandmother’s.
~~~~~~~~~~
The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy. Royce sat on the front steps of Ma Beulah’s house, elbows resting on his knees, staring out at the empty street. It was quieter on this end of the neighborhood, filled with mostly older people who’d lived in their homes for decades as white flight kicked into overdrive and blight took over the adjacent streets.
The moon hung low, casting long shadows across the law. He absently picked at his fingernails, his argument with Romeo a few hours earlier pressing down on him.
He couldn’t shake the unease settling in his chest. Each passing day seemed to see Romeo move closer to their goal of making it to a big name college to play football. Meanwhile, he felt as if he was spinning his wheels. Football was supposed to be his ticket, too. Everyone said so.
Now, it felt as if his dream was falling apart and the streets around him would be the only future he could look forward to.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. He squinted as the headlights momentarily blinded him. He didn’t recognize the car at first before it clicked in his head as it rolled to stop.
Toni and Deshawn sat inside. The car idled for a moment, neither of them moving and then the passenger door opened.
Toni stepped out, her face streaked with tears, her shoulders trembling as she walked toward the house. Deshawn stayed behind the wheel, his hands gripping the steering wheel, straight ahead. Royce got up from the step, his hands clenching into fists.
“Yo, y’all good?” Royce asked, anger in his words.
Deshawn glanced over before cutting a U-turn and speeding off down the street.
Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, Toni sat down on the steps. Royce sat down again.
“Why you crying?” he asked Toni.
“Dumb ass niggas,” she said.
Royce shrugged. “I told you you shouldn’t have let that clown ass negro hit.”
“You not funny.”
“Some would disagree with you.”
Toni let out a shaky breath, still wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. Royce sat silently beside her, going back to staring at the street. The weight of their shared frustration hung in the air between them for a few pregnant moments.
Royce glanced over at her. “Seriously, though. You good?”
She sighed, leaning back against the weathered steps, staring up at the sky. “It’s not just shit with Deshawn. It’s everything. Feels like I can’t breathe sometimes, you know? Like no matter what I do, I’m stuck. You know how fucked up our family is, on some real shit. Sometimes, it feels like we all holding each other down.”
He nodded slowly, understanding the feeling, especially after his conversation with his father a couple days before. One would think that Kevon Lafitte would try to lead his children toward more prosperous lives, not the one he lived, a life of being a low-level drug dealer for most of his adult life until he tried to rob his “associates” and ended up killing them.
Instead, the advice was to live just like he did.
“Yeah, I get that,” Royce said. “It’s like we can’t fuck up. But fucking up don’t even mean what fucking up supposed to mean. You and Arianna lucky on some shit because the only girl older than y’all in the family is Rana and she got out. Who we got to look up to? Doodoo and Mitchell? Fucking Reg? It’s like they don’t get we out here trying to make it out, too.”
Toni wiped her face again, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Don’t even get me started on when you try to do your own thing. Everybody got something to say then. Gonna say you acting biggity and shit.”
“That’s that crab mentality. They don’t want you to do something with your life because then they gotta look at themselves.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter. “But I’m tired, Ro. Tired of feeling like I gotta choose between doing something for me and what’s gonna keep everybody else happy. I ain’t trying to just be the fucking girl who don’t got parents forever.”
“I hear you,” he said, thinking about the fact he was more and more being relegated to second fiddle to Romeo. “We’re going to make it out, though. Even if I gotta go up there and beg Rana ol’ man to get me a job at the plant. I ain’t dying in this shit ass neighborhood after living like a crackhead for a few decades.”
“You’re right. Me either,” she said, nodding.
They lapsed into silence, both descending into their own thoughts.
“She fine, but she ain’t fine enough for you to be fighting grown men who pay taxes over. Ain’t like they don’t got plenty of white girls willing to give it up for some Taaka at this bitch.”
Royce shook his head as he walked to the parking lot with Jalen and Basil. The two of them had been giving him grief about his fight with Heidi’s boyfriend throughout practice despite his stance that not even Heidi herself cared about it.
The texts she’d sent him after third period asking – multiple times – for his grandmother’s address said as much.
“Y’all talking like bro 45 years old with a wife and kids. He graduated from this motherfucker last year,” Royce said. “Besides, neither one of you niggas getting any pussy to be trying to tell me how to handle my business.”
“Don’t put that on me. That’s him still blushing everytime a girl wink at him,” Basil said, pointing at Jalen.
Jalen shoved him. “How you go from talking about him and his problems to trying to clown me? Wasn’t that you over there on Burkwall hanging out with ol’ girl gay little brother on the chance she might give you some head?”
“Cass? Were you trying to get head from her or her brother?” Royce asked, eyebrow raised.
“Now, see. This why Black men can’t be open with each other. Y’all use that shit to mock a nigga. To clear my name, though, I did fuck Cass that day. Zaire just the homie. He cool people. So, it all worked out,” Basil said.
“That shit sound sus as fuck.”
“That’s what I said,” Jalen said, shrugging.
As Jalen and Basil continued to go back and forth, Royce dapped them both up as headed toward his car, the three boys parting ways.
Royce reached into his duffel bag for his phone, responding to Heidi’s texts and telling her to find somewhere else to meet if she wanted it that bad. He was holding firm to not bringing a white girl anywhere near Ma Beulah’s house.
He tossed his duffel into the backseat, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly as he closed the door. Leaning against the car for a moment, he checked his other messages, typing out a few responses before he headed home.
“Ro!”
He looked up to see Romeo hopping out of the passenger seat of Britni’s car and jogging toward him. Royce sucked his teeth, still annoyed about their fight and their mother taking Romeo’s side despite them sharing the blame equally.
“What you want, bruh?” Royce asked when Romeo came to a stop next to him.
“You still at Ma Beulah house?” he asked.
“You serious, nigga? Where the fuck you think I been? The City?”
Romeo held his hands up. “I don’t know, man. Arianna was telling me about that shit with that Heidi bitch you be fucking with on the low. I thought maybe she’d let you come stay at her boyfriend’s apartment while he offshore.”
“He ain’t offshore, but you should know that since you gossiping like the church mothers.”
“I ain’t come over here to fight with you. I’m just seeing how you doing and shit. Ma ain’t even really mad about that shit anymore. You could come home if you wanted.”
“Anyway,” Royce said, irritation dripping into his voice. “If you didn’t come over here for that, what you came over here for? I’m trying to go and I know Britni’s going to be over there getting pissed. Your phone probably blowing up right now with her telling you to hurry up.”
Romeo’s hand almost instinctively went to his pocket to check for his phone before he caught himself and shook his head.
“I got a call from Kentucky yesterday. They want me to come up there and check shit out.”
“Alright. Congratulations. You good now?”
“I told them that I’d only go out there if they’d set you up, too. They said that’s cool, and they’ll take a look at your tape to see about working something out for you if they have to get us on some package deal type shit.”
Royce sucked his teeth. “That ain’t say that shit. You just trying to make it sound like you tried to give me some shine. Don’t act like I ain’t been there for every other coach that’s talked to you. You only looking out for yourself.”
“Bruh, you want the man number to call him yourself?”
“Nah, I’m good on that. None of this shit got anything to do with me. I ain’t forget how you were talking a couple weeks ago. You’re just trying to make yourself feel better and I ain’t no fucking charity case. Enjoy that trip, though.”
Romeo shook his head before starting to back away. “You one bitter ass nigga sometimes. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Yeah, well, I ain’t ask for it, nigga,” Royce said. He turned around to open his car door, getting into the driver’s seat.
He watched as Romeo got back into Britni’s car and she pulled out of the parking lot. He flipped off the car despite knowing they were much too far away to see the gesture before starting his own car up to head to his grandmother’s.
~~~~~~~~~~
The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy. Royce sat on the front steps of Ma Beulah’s house, elbows resting on his knees, staring out at the empty street. It was quieter on this end of the neighborhood, filled with mostly older people who’d lived in their homes for decades as white flight kicked into overdrive and blight took over the adjacent streets.
The moon hung low, casting long shadows across the law. He absently picked at his fingernails, his argument with Romeo a few hours earlier pressing down on him.
He couldn’t shake the unease settling in his chest. Each passing day seemed to see Romeo move closer to their goal of making it to a big name college to play football. Meanwhile, he felt as if he was spinning his wheels. Football was supposed to be his ticket, too. Everyone said so.
Now, it felt as if his dream was falling apart and the streets around him would be the only future he could look forward to.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. He squinted as the headlights momentarily blinded him. He didn’t recognize the car at first before it clicked in his head as it rolled to stop.
Toni and Deshawn sat inside. The car idled for a moment, neither of them moving and then the passenger door opened.
Toni stepped out, her face streaked with tears, her shoulders trembling as she walked toward the house. Deshawn stayed behind the wheel, his hands gripping the steering wheel, straight ahead. Royce got up from the step, his hands clenching into fists.
“Yo, y’all good?” Royce asked, anger in his words.
Deshawn glanced over before cutting a U-turn and speeding off down the street.
Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, Toni sat down on the steps. Royce sat down again.
“Why you crying?” he asked Toni.
“Dumb ass niggas,” she said.
Royce shrugged. “I told you you shouldn’t have let that clown ass negro hit.”
“You not funny.”
“Some would disagree with you.”
Toni let out a shaky breath, still wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. Royce sat silently beside her, going back to staring at the street. The weight of their shared frustration hung in the air between them for a few pregnant moments.
Royce glanced over at her. “Seriously, though. You good?”
She sighed, leaning back against the weathered steps, staring up at the sky. “It’s not just shit with Deshawn. It’s everything. Feels like I can’t breathe sometimes, you know? Like no matter what I do, I’m stuck. You know how fucked up our family is, on some real shit. Sometimes, it feels like we all holding each other down.”
He nodded slowly, understanding the feeling, especially after his conversation with his father a couple days before. One would think that Kevon Lafitte would try to lead his children toward more prosperous lives, not the one he lived, a life of being a low-level drug dealer for most of his adult life until he tried to rob his “associates” and ended up killing them.
Instead, the advice was to live just like he did.
“Yeah, I get that,” Royce said. “It’s like we can’t fuck up. But fucking up don’t even mean what fucking up supposed to mean. You and Arianna lucky on some shit because the only girl older than y’all in the family is Rana and she got out. Who we got to look up to? Doodoo and Mitchell? Fucking Reg? It’s like they don’t get we out here trying to make it out, too.”
Toni wiped her face again, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Don’t even get me started on when you try to do your own thing. Everybody got something to say then. Gonna say you acting biggity and shit.”
“That’s that crab mentality. They don’t want you to do something with your life because then they gotta look at themselves.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter. “But I’m tired, Ro. Tired of feeling like I gotta choose between doing something for me and what’s gonna keep everybody else happy. I ain’t trying to just be the fucking girl who don’t got parents forever.”
“I hear you,” he said, thinking about the fact he was more and more being relegated to second fiddle to Romeo. “We’re going to make it out, though. Even if I gotta go up there and beg Rana ol’ man to get me a job at the plant. I ain’t dying in this shit ass neighborhood after living like a crackhead for a few decades.”
“You’re right. Me either,” she said, nodding.
They lapsed into silence, both descending into their own thoughts.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7770
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
That ending was really profound, fucked with it heavy
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16735
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
