Lights, Camera, Action
Royce crouched low, fingers grazing the turf, feeling the cool earth beneath his gloves. The stadium lights seemed to shine brighter that night as they squared off against their rivals, H.L. Bourgeois. They’d been relegated to the visitors’ side of the night and Terrebonne’s band was trying its best to throw the quarterback off.
As the quarterback began his cadence, the crowd’s roar faded into the background, a distant hum as Royce zeroed in on his target.
“Blue 80! Blue 80! Set, hut!”
Royce exploded off the line, cutting through a gap between the guard and tackle. The offensive linemen lunged to block him, but he sidestepped the first and dipped under the second, who barely touched him as he went by.
The quarterback’s eyes went wide, and he pulled the ball down to roll out of the pocket to escape. Royce closed the distance quickly, lunging for the quarterback’s waist. He felt the impact as they hit the ground, the ball flying loose on contact. He could hear the collective gasp from the crowd, but the Braves recovered it.
That didn’t stop the eruption of cheers as he pushed himself up. He pointed at one of the offensive linemen and held his hand, palm down, close to the turf as he jogged back to the huddle.
…
“Down goes Trahan again and Terrebonne’s come out of the gates hot!”
…
“The Braves are going to have to punt after a batted down pass.”
…
Romeo stood in the backfield, his eyes scanning the defense. He watched as a safety crept up into the box and the linebacker leaned forward. He glanced at Luke, flexing his gloved fingers in anticipation.
“Hut, hut, hut-hut.”
Romeo took a step forward, receiving the handoff from Luke as the offensive line surged forward. Romeo burst forward, slipping through a sliver of daylight between the guard and center. The defenders crashed down, trying to fill the hole, but he got skinny and slipped by the would-be tacklers.
He planted his foot at the second level, cut toward the outside. He felt them reaching for him, glancing back to see them hitting the turf around his feet with their arms outstretched. His feet danced over the turf. He cut again, this time to the left, leaving another defender grasping at air, then he accelerated downfield.
The roar of the crowd grew louder with every yard. His heart pounded as he looked around for chasing defenders. He saw a cornerback running across the field, closing in.
Dipping his shoulder, he faked inside once, then cut hard to the right. The corner bit, lunging at him, but Romeo was past him before he could make the tackle.
His eyes widened as he saw nothing but green ahead of him, but before he could accelerate, he was shoved to the turf from behind.
Rolling to his feet, he waved his hand in front of his face, earning an admonishment from the referees as H.L.’s players didn’t take too kindly to the jawing.
…
“Babin hits Williams across the middle and that’s going to be a touchdown for the Tigers!”
…
“Royce Lafitte makes another tackle. His fourth of the night.”
…
Romeo Lafitte takes it into the endzone and extends Terrebonne’s lead to 13!”
…
“Big time sack from Royce Lafitte and that kid is having a big game out there already! Two sacks tonight against the Braves!”
…
“Babin takes it himself. Dives for the pylon. Touchdown, Tigers!”
…
Royce shifted on the balls of his feet. H.L. was in a tight formation, attempting to make a crucial third-down and prevent the game from getting out of hand. He watched the quarterback closely, eyes narrowing.
The ball was snapped, and Royce took a step forward before dropping back into coverage, his eyes locked onto the quarterback. The quarterback tapped the ball twice, something he’d been doing all game before throwing. Royce immediately looked to his left, seeing a receiver coming from the slot on the slant.
Royce was already moving as the ball left the quarterback’s hand. Royce leapt, the pass a bit high, his body twisting in the air as he extended his hands. The ball smacked into his palms, and he pulled it in, cradling it against his chest.
He landed on his feet but slipped when attempted to turn upfield. The receiver dove at his legs and brought him down before he could get going.
Jumping up from the turf, he jumped around and shouting in celebration, being mobbed by his teammates as he ran off the field.
…
“Romeo Lafitte takes it in for his second touchdown of the night and it’s 34-3 Terrebonne pending the extra point.”
…
“Trahan’s pass is batted down at the line of scrimmage.”
…
“Royce Lafitte brings down Johnson in the backfield and that’s his fourth tackle for loss on the night. Take a bow, young man!”
…
“The clock hits all zeroes here in Thomas B. Smith Stadium and Terrebonne has defeated their rivals, H.L. Bourgeois, 38-10.”
…
Royce sat on the bench in the locker room, peeling off his pads and uniform, his muscles aching from the night’s battles. The adrenaline was still wearing off, leaving him drained but satisfied to have had a big game against H.L. He stood up, heading for the door in hopes that the bathrooms on the opposite side of the field house were empty.
As he stepped out onto the basketball court, a middle-aged man wearing a ULL hat noticed him and crossed over to where he was.
“Royce Lafitte!” the man’s voice boomed across the empty arena, a wide grin on his face. “Hell of a game out there, son. Name’s Mike Giuliani from UL.”
Royce shook Coach Giuliani’s hand. “Thanks, Coach. Always feels good to get one against them.”
“I bet. Rivalry games are always big. Look, you’ve got a nose for the ball, kid. Those were some big-time plays you made out there. Especially that pick – damn near jumped out of my seat when you snagged that one.”
“Yeah. Didn’t think I’d get my hands on that one,” Royce said, rubbing the back of his neck as a bit of the tension from the game started to weigh on his muscles. “Just glad we got the win, though, to be honest.”
Giuliani nodded, his expression turning more serious. “That’s what I like to hear. Listen, Royce. I’m going to cut right to the chase. We’re looking for a couple interior linebackers in two years and we want you in Lafayette. Hometown kid, hardnosed. Someone who’s not afraid to lay it all on the line. I’m not here to say we’re just interested in you. I’m here to tell you we’re going to be offering you. Full ride.”
Royce felt his heart rate pick up a bit. Not even Southern promised that he’d have a scholarship coming his way, although it’d been a while since he’d last spoken to them.
“Shit, I mean, my bad,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Appreciate the praise, coach. I’m still in the process though.”
“Of course. How about this? We’d love to get you out to the campus. I’m sure you’ve been to Lafayette before, but come down for a visit, meet the team and see what we’re all about,” Coach Giuliani said. “We think you’d be a great fit, Royce. You’ve got the talent and the potential, the work ethic, the heart. You make a difference out there on the field.”
Royce nodded. “Thanks. I’ll think it over. I’m definitely interested in getting out there, though.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Giuliani said, clapping Royce on the shoulder before retrieving a business card out of his pocket and holding it out to him. “Give me a call when you decide when you want to come out and the staff will get everything set up. Keep playing like you did tonight, and you got a big future ahead of you.”
Royce took the card from him, staring at it as the man headed to leave. Nodding to himself, he stashed the card on the bleachers to get when he came back from the bathroom.
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce sat on the couch, the flickering light of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. Highlights from local games played on the screen, but he wasn’t really watching. His mind was still replaying the conversation with Coach Giuliani, excitement and uncertainty swirling together in his chest. As much as he wanted to give his verbal immediately, he didn’t want to be one of those guys that withdrew their commitment and asked people to respect their decision.
The house was quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the TV and the A/C clicking on and off. His mother was working a graveyard shift and Reg was out doing Reg things.
The front door creaked open, and Royce heard the sound of a pair of keys hitting the old, wooden table next to the door. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was, only two people in the house had so few keys in their pocket.
Romeo moved to the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing filling the silence. Royce continued to stare at the screen, his stubbornness overruling any desire to speak.
Walking back into the living room with a can of Coke in his hand, Romeo stopped a few feet from the couch. He glanced at the armchair in the room, hesitating for a moment, then sat down on the opposite side of the couch.
Neither of them spoke or looked at one another, the sound of the commentators filling the room.
Romeo reached forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, changing the TV to bring up Netflix. He searched through the options on the screen until he stopped on Don’t Be a Menace in South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood. It was a movie they watched often as kids.
He paused for a moment, expecting Royce to demand the TV be changed back, but he only waved his hand to show his acceptance of the selection.
Sitting back, Romeo cracked open his Coke. Without a word, Royce reached for a bag of chips sitting on the end table and tossed it onto Romeo’s lap.
“When you going to Kentucky?” Royce asked.
“We gotta call them and set it up. They gonna send us the plane tickets for the day,” Romeo said, taking a handful of chips out of the bag and tossing them into his mouth.
“Bet.”
And those were the only words they spoke as the movie played on the TV.
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
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djp73
- Posts: 13143
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Dying to Live
Hope they go to the same school
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7758
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Dying to Live
Good update! Kentucky and UL is definitely progress
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16727
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Squabbles
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the court. The old, rusted chain-link fence rattled softly in the breeze as the sound of a basketball bouncing echoed through the empty streets of the neighborhood.
Royce wiped sweat from his brow before dribbling the ball between his legs as he sized up Romeo.
“You can’t stop me, nigga,” Royce said, taunting his brother.
Romeo swiped at the ball a couple times. “Bitch, please. Clamps.”
With a quick crossover, Royce exploded to the left, driving hard to the basket. Romeo stayed with him, but Royce simply barreled into him, years of football training taking over. He shoved off Romeo and leapt off one foot and shot a fadeaway that rattled around the rim and went in.
“That’s 10-8!” Royce shouted, a grin on his face.
“We not calling that a foul?” Romeo said to Donnie and Ervin, hands held out to his sides.
“Both y’all play like that,” Donnie said as he collected the ball.
Royce laughed as he took the ball from Donnie. “You just gotta get your weight up, bruh.”
“Just check up,” Romeo said. He looked at Ervin. “Don’t let them niggas score.”
Ervin shook his head, sweating dripping down his face. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
Royce rolled the ball to Romeo, who sucked his teeth and picked it up, looking to pass it to Ervin. Ervin attempted to shake free from Donnie, eventually deciding to just use his size to post Donnie up. Romeo passed him the ball and Ervin held it up, just out of Donnie’s reach.
Romeo faked to the left then went right, leaving Royce slipping on the concrete. Donnie dropped the ball down to Romeo, who laid it up with ease.
He pointed to his brother and did one of LeBron James’ signature celebrations. “You lucky ain’t no hoes out here or you’d be ready to fight out here.”
Royce looked at Donnie. “Have they even won a game yet?”
“Not that I remember.”
Romeo threw the ball at his brother who barely managed to catch it before it hit him in the chest. “All good, we got this one.”
Royce threw it back. “Check, nigga.”
Returning the favor, Romeo simply let the ball fall from his fingers and bounce toward Royce. Royce shook his head and dribbled it until it was high enough for him to handle. He passed it to Donnie, who’d lost Ervin in the corner.
Romeo ran back to stop Donnie from getting the easy lay-up. Donnie passed it back to Royce, who’d spotted up at the elbow. Romeo turned around and tried to run back to guard Royce, but Royce dribbled once and moved to his left as Romeo leapt. Royce pulled up for a jumper, watching as the ball sailed through the air, bouncing off the backboard and then the rim and going in.
“Ball game, motherfucker!” Royce shouted.
“Lucky ass shot,” Romeo said, waving his hand dismissively at his brother.
“Yo, we got next!” a voice shouted from the other side of the fence.
The four boys on the court turned in the direction of the voice to see Jamie, Jeremi and two of their friends walking in their direction.
Jamie smacked the ball out of Ervin’s hands. “Y’all ain’t done already, huh?”
“Yeah, we done,” Romeo said, glancing at Royce.
“That boy always being a pussy,” Jeremi said.
Royce shrugged. “We can run it. To 11, ones and twos.”
Romeo, Ervin and Donnie all gave Royce a pleading look as Jamie picked up the ball and threw it to Royce.
“Shoot for ball,” Jamie said.
Jeremi hit the shot to get the ball first and started the game with a quick jumper from behind the arc. Romeo answered back with a layup, but the game was already beginning to get physical with shoves and hand-checking all over the court.
Things escalated when Jamie grabbed a rebound and swung his elbows violently, just barely missing catching Royce in the head. He stumbled back to avoid the blow.
“Watch that shit, nigga. This ain’t no fucking jailhouse ball,” Royce said, but Jamie just shrugged and tossed the ball to Royce to check up.
Royce passed the ball to Romeo and Romeo moved it on to Donnie. Almost immediately, he caught a forearm across the face from one of Jamie and Jeremi’s friends as he tried to drive by.
Donnie slammed the ball into the ground as he checked his nose for blood. “Foul, man. Fuck.”
The game continued, each play getting rougher than the last. Romeo caught an intentional shove from Jeremi while going up for a rebound, only just saving himself from falling flat on his back by catching himself with his hands. Ervin was hit in the face by flailing arms twice under the goal. Romeo bailed out of a layup when he saw Jamie about to run underneath him.
Royce caught the ball on the wing and drove to the goal. But before he could jump, Jeremi ran at him, shoving him toward the pole holding up the basket. Royce turned his body and barely avoided running head first into it.
He jumped up, shoving Jeremi, his patience snapping.
“Fuck’s wrong with you, nigga. This just a fucking game,” Royce said, getting in Jeremi’s face.
Jeremi shoved Royce back. “Get out my face, pussy.”
Romeo stepped between them, but Jamie was there, too, and pushed Romeo away. “Ain’t nobody jumping my brother this time, nigga.”
Donnie, Ervin, and their two friends moved in toward the scrum as shouting and insults began to get thrown around the court.
While Royce was moving to get in between Romeo and Jamie, Jeremi took the opportunity to throw the first punch, catching Royce right under the eye. Royce stumbled back as Jeremi kept swinging wildly at his head.
Regaining his bearings, he ducked under one of the punches and lifted Jeremi off his feet, slamming him on the concrete. Jeremi hung onto his legs, still swinging punches despite not being able to see with his shirt having flipped over his face.
Royce threw a series of punches that all connected as he tumbled to the ground in a tangle with Jeremi. He sprung up, kicking Jeremi’s hands away from him. Holding Jeremi’s head with his left hand as Jeremi continued to swing blind punches, Royce wound up his right and landed a clean punch to Jeremi’s face.
Behind him, Jamie ran over, fists clenched to sneak up on Royce, but Romeo got him first, catching Jamie with a haymaker from behind that clipped the older boy’s jaw. Jamie went down in a heap, falling on the back of Royce’s legs, catching his attention.
As Donnie and Ervin squabbled with Jamie and Jeremi’s friends, more shoving match than fight, Royce and Romeo started wailing on Jeremi and Jamie with fists and feet.
The scuffle was getting nasty, a blue of fists, feet and anger, until the sound of a car horn blaring from the street cut through the noise.
“I called the cops on you lil’ niggas!” a voice shouted from a distance. It was an older man at the old folks’ home next to the court. He shook his cane in their direction. “All you jackasses are gonna be in Ashland tonight!”
The boys all hesitated. Romeo grabbed Royce by the shirt and pulled him away from Jamie and Jeremi.
“Come on, man,” Romeo said.
Jamie and Jeremi started to get to their feet, bruised and bloodied, the fight having drained from both of their eyes as they struggled to catch their breath.
Ervin and Donnie shoved away from the others and took off running down the street as the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.
“Let me know when you fuck niggas want another ass whupping,” Royce said to Jamie and Jeremi as Romeo dragged him toward the court’s entrance.
“This ain’t over,” Jamie said, spitting blood on the court. “I got something for both y’all.”
Jeremi doubled over behind his brother, clutching at his ribs, not even bothering to try to show any false bravado after the beating he’d just taken.
“I’m right here, bitch,” Royce said.
“Let’s go, Ro,” Romeo said, his voice low and tense.
The flashing lights coming up the street were enough convincing for Royce to end the back-and-forth. He nodded at his brother and the two of them left the court, ducking between the houses on the opposite side of the street to avoid the cops.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the court. The old, rusted chain-link fence rattled softly in the breeze as the sound of a basketball bouncing echoed through the empty streets of the neighborhood.
Royce wiped sweat from his brow before dribbling the ball between his legs as he sized up Romeo.
“You can’t stop me, nigga,” Royce said, taunting his brother.
Romeo swiped at the ball a couple times. “Bitch, please. Clamps.”
With a quick crossover, Royce exploded to the left, driving hard to the basket. Romeo stayed with him, but Royce simply barreled into him, years of football training taking over. He shoved off Romeo and leapt off one foot and shot a fadeaway that rattled around the rim and went in.
“That’s 10-8!” Royce shouted, a grin on his face.
“We not calling that a foul?” Romeo said to Donnie and Ervin, hands held out to his sides.
“Both y’all play like that,” Donnie said as he collected the ball.
Royce laughed as he took the ball from Donnie. “You just gotta get your weight up, bruh.”
“Just check up,” Romeo said. He looked at Ervin. “Don’t let them niggas score.”
Ervin shook his head, sweating dripping down his face. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
Royce rolled the ball to Romeo, who sucked his teeth and picked it up, looking to pass it to Ervin. Ervin attempted to shake free from Donnie, eventually deciding to just use his size to post Donnie up. Romeo passed him the ball and Ervin held it up, just out of Donnie’s reach.
Romeo faked to the left then went right, leaving Royce slipping on the concrete. Donnie dropped the ball down to Romeo, who laid it up with ease.
He pointed to his brother and did one of LeBron James’ signature celebrations. “You lucky ain’t no hoes out here or you’d be ready to fight out here.”
Royce looked at Donnie. “Have they even won a game yet?”
“Not that I remember.”
Romeo threw the ball at his brother who barely managed to catch it before it hit him in the chest. “All good, we got this one.”
Royce threw it back. “Check, nigga.”
Returning the favor, Romeo simply let the ball fall from his fingers and bounce toward Royce. Royce shook his head and dribbled it until it was high enough for him to handle. He passed it to Donnie, who’d lost Ervin in the corner.
Romeo ran back to stop Donnie from getting the easy lay-up. Donnie passed it back to Royce, who’d spotted up at the elbow. Romeo turned around and tried to run back to guard Royce, but Royce dribbled once and moved to his left as Romeo leapt. Royce pulled up for a jumper, watching as the ball sailed through the air, bouncing off the backboard and then the rim and going in.
“Ball game, motherfucker!” Royce shouted.
“Lucky ass shot,” Romeo said, waving his hand dismissively at his brother.
“Yo, we got next!” a voice shouted from the other side of the fence.
The four boys on the court turned in the direction of the voice to see Jamie, Jeremi and two of their friends walking in their direction.
Jamie smacked the ball out of Ervin’s hands. “Y’all ain’t done already, huh?”
“Yeah, we done,” Romeo said, glancing at Royce.
“That boy always being a pussy,” Jeremi said.
Royce shrugged. “We can run it. To 11, ones and twos.”
Romeo, Ervin and Donnie all gave Royce a pleading look as Jamie picked up the ball and threw it to Royce.
“Shoot for ball,” Jamie said.
Jeremi hit the shot to get the ball first and started the game with a quick jumper from behind the arc. Romeo answered back with a layup, but the game was already beginning to get physical with shoves and hand-checking all over the court.
Things escalated when Jamie grabbed a rebound and swung his elbows violently, just barely missing catching Royce in the head. He stumbled back to avoid the blow.
“Watch that shit, nigga. This ain’t no fucking jailhouse ball,” Royce said, but Jamie just shrugged and tossed the ball to Royce to check up.
Royce passed the ball to Romeo and Romeo moved it on to Donnie. Almost immediately, he caught a forearm across the face from one of Jamie and Jeremi’s friends as he tried to drive by.
Donnie slammed the ball into the ground as he checked his nose for blood. “Foul, man. Fuck.”
The game continued, each play getting rougher than the last. Romeo caught an intentional shove from Jeremi while going up for a rebound, only just saving himself from falling flat on his back by catching himself with his hands. Ervin was hit in the face by flailing arms twice under the goal. Romeo bailed out of a layup when he saw Jamie about to run underneath him.
Royce caught the ball on the wing and drove to the goal. But before he could jump, Jeremi ran at him, shoving him toward the pole holding up the basket. Royce turned his body and barely avoided running head first into it.
He jumped up, shoving Jeremi, his patience snapping.
“Fuck’s wrong with you, nigga. This just a fucking game,” Royce said, getting in Jeremi’s face.
Jeremi shoved Royce back. “Get out my face, pussy.”
Romeo stepped between them, but Jamie was there, too, and pushed Romeo away. “Ain’t nobody jumping my brother this time, nigga.”
Donnie, Ervin, and their two friends moved in toward the scrum as shouting and insults began to get thrown around the court.
While Royce was moving to get in between Romeo and Jamie, Jeremi took the opportunity to throw the first punch, catching Royce right under the eye. Royce stumbled back as Jeremi kept swinging wildly at his head.
Regaining his bearings, he ducked under one of the punches and lifted Jeremi off his feet, slamming him on the concrete. Jeremi hung onto his legs, still swinging punches despite not being able to see with his shirt having flipped over his face.
Royce threw a series of punches that all connected as he tumbled to the ground in a tangle with Jeremi. He sprung up, kicking Jeremi’s hands away from him. Holding Jeremi’s head with his left hand as Jeremi continued to swing blind punches, Royce wound up his right and landed a clean punch to Jeremi’s face.
Behind him, Jamie ran over, fists clenched to sneak up on Royce, but Romeo got him first, catching Jamie with a haymaker from behind that clipped the older boy’s jaw. Jamie went down in a heap, falling on the back of Royce’s legs, catching his attention.
As Donnie and Ervin squabbled with Jamie and Jeremi’s friends, more shoving match than fight, Royce and Romeo started wailing on Jeremi and Jamie with fists and feet.
The scuffle was getting nasty, a blue of fists, feet and anger, until the sound of a car horn blaring from the street cut through the noise.
“I called the cops on you lil’ niggas!” a voice shouted from a distance. It was an older man at the old folks’ home next to the court. He shook his cane in their direction. “All you jackasses are gonna be in Ashland tonight!”
The boys all hesitated. Romeo grabbed Royce by the shirt and pulled him away from Jamie and Jeremi.
“Come on, man,” Romeo said.
Jamie and Jeremi started to get to their feet, bruised and bloodied, the fight having drained from both of their eyes as they struggled to catch their breath.
Ervin and Donnie shoved away from the others and took off running down the street as the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.
“Let me know when you fuck niggas want another ass whupping,” Royce said to Jamie and Jeremi as Romeo dragged him toward the court’s entrance.
“This ain’t over,” Jamie said, spitting blood on the court. “I got something for both y’all.”
Jeremi doubled over behind his brother, clutching at his ribs, not even bothering to try to show any false bravado after the beating he’d just taken.
“I’m right here, bitch,” Royce said.
“Let’s go, Ro,” Romeo said, his voice low and tense.
The flashing lights coming up the street were enough convincing for Royce to end the back-and-forth. He nodded at his brother and the two of them left the court, ducking between the houses on the opposite side of the street to avoid the cops.
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chosenone58
- Posts: 4649
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Dying to Live
I felt this shit.Caesar wrote: ↑09 Aug 2024, 09:21Toni 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.”
Enjoyed all the updates. The Lafitte boys can't let Jeremi and Jamie ruin their shit. I knew a fight was gonna break out as soon as they hit the court.
Creator of Derek Baldwin da Gawd
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16727
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Star, Star, Star
Royce and Romeo sat on their mother’s porch, each with a bag of ice pressed to their bruises. Royce, his left eye sporting a darkening bruise, had his feet kicked up on an old milk crate while Romeo sat on the steps with a cut on his lip and a few busted knuckles. The fight from the day before had already faded into a memory, replaced by the easy banter between brothers.
“I ain’t really think you were going to throw hands like that. Had me a little shocked,” Royce said, laughing as he gingerly adjusted the ice pack on his eye. “Surprised you ain’t break your hand because I know your bitch ass don’t know how to throw a punch.”
Romeo sucked his teeth then laughed, wincing a little as the cut on his lip stretched. “Negro, please. You know I got hands. I just know that nigga crazy and shit, so I had to be sure he ain’t have nothing on him before I went over there.”
“So, if he did, you were going to let me get got?”
“Nah, but if he did, we didn’t both have to end up in the ER. Someone would’ve had to have told ma.”
Royce threw the ice bag at Romeo as the two of them started laughing, joking about the way Jamie and Jeremi curled up into the fetal position while they were getting stomped out.
Britini stepped out onto the porch, carrying two cans of Coke. She handed one to Romeo as she sat down next to him, pressing at his lip with her thumb to inspect his injuries causing him to wince and pull away.
“Where mine at?” Royce asked.
“In the house,” she shot back. “You’re the one always getting into shit so why don’t you get your ass up and get into that refrigerator?”
Royce was about to respond, but Romeo shot him a look over his shoulder which made him change his mind, not wanting to ruin the mood.
“I thought y’all said that dude did time? Seems a little stupid to be fighting someone that doesn’t have anything to lose, don’t you think?” she asked. The question sounded like it was directed at both of them, but it was clearly only meant for Romeo.
Romeo shrugged, brushing some water from the ice bag off his knuckles. “That’s how it be sometimes. Just about everyone in the bricks know someone who did some time. Can’t not fight them all when it come down to it.”
“Fighting is fucking stupid, so yes, you can just not fight them.”
“That’s how you end up running down the street with just your draws on because everyone know you a pussy,” Royce said.
Britni rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.
Romeo stood up, stretching with a groan. “I gotta piss. I’ll be right back.”
“Get me a Coke, bruh,” Royce said.
“What kind you want?”
“Sprite if she got it in there.”
“Bet,” Romeo said, bending down to kiss Britni on the forehead before jogging into the house.
For a moment, there was silence on the porch as Royce and Britni both stared out into the street, the only sound was the rustling leaves in trees around them. Royce leaned back in the chair, looking up at the rotting wood underneath the awning.
“You’re going to bring him down,” Britni said, her voice laced with tension.
Royce sat up. “The fuck you talking about?”
She turned so she was facing him, her arms crossed over her chest. “He’s got shit going for him, so much going for him. You know that. Every time he gets into some bullshit, it’s because of you and that ghetto ass mindset you have. You need to stop dragging him into your shit.”
“Dragging him into my shit? Romeo’s his own fucking man. He doesn’t have to do a damn fucking thing that I do. Besides, you’re forgetting this Jeremi shit started because he was talking shit about you. I don’t like your ass. I ain’t fighting for you. I was crashing out behind my brother.”
“I don’t even know these people,” she said, disgust on her face. “Doesn’t even matter how it started. You might be willing to fuck your life up, but this isn’t the kind of life that Romeo needs. He’s headed for something better than a jail cell.”
Royce felt a flash of anger, but kept his voice steady. “Romeo is who he is, Britni. He came up the same way I did, with the crackheads, the roaches, piss in the dining room and niggas shooting each other over QPs they can’t even get rich off. No matter how much you try to change him, that shit in his blood. Both of us might end up in Indiana or some shit playing football, but this,” he said, gesturing to the houses around them. “This the shit that made us.”
“I’m not trying to change him,” she shot back. “I’m trying to help him be better than this. He’s got potential, but if he keeps following you around, he’s going to end up dead or in jail.”
“Fuck outta here with that dramatic shit. We got into a fight. Niggas get into fights everyday. What you don’t get is that I love my brother and I’ll always have his back. But he ain’t some project for you to turn into some bowtie wearing motherfucker like your daddy.”
“Better that than in prison like yours.”
“Girl, fuck you,” Royce said, waving his hand dismissively.
“I just want what’s best for him,” she said, turning back around.
“You think I don’t? You’d be a lot easier to be around if you’d drop that holier-than-thou shit. You not better than me. At the end of the day, Romeo’s a man and he’s going to do what he wants. That lil’ pussy you throw him ain’t that powerful.”
Before Britni could respond, the screen door creaked open, and Romeo stepped back onto the porch. He held out an orange Crush to Royce.
“This all Ma had left in there,” he said as Royce took the drink from him. He looked between Royce and Britni, sensing the tense. “Y’all good?”
Royce popped the can open and brought it to his lips. “She just made that I said you ain’t got no hands.”
“Always trying to clown someone,” Romeo said, shaking his head as he sat back down next to Britni, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
As the two of them started a new conversation about something one of Britni’s friends was dealing with, Royce pulled his phone out of his pocket to answer a few texts.
~~~~~~~~~~
“East St. John leads 24-13 here in the third quarter and they have the ball and are threatening to score.”
The tension in the air was thick as Royce lined up, breathing heavily. The Wildcats were driving again, but Terrebonne had managed to get them to a third down and they needed a play to keep the game from getting out of hand.
It didn’t help the boys on the field that the crowd had already started to thin, making East St. John’s cadence audible from yards away.
Royce settled into his stance, watching the quarterback. The ball was snapped, and he exploded forward, his legs pumping. He ducked low, lowering his shoulder and driving into the guard’s chest before swinging his arm up to swipe his arms away. The lineman tried to recover, grabbing at Royce’s jersey, but he spun around to rip free.
The quarterback attempted to step up into the pocket, but it was collapsing around him. Royce closed on him quickly, wrapping his arms around the quarterback’s torso. He lifted him off the ground before slamming him back down to the turf with force.
…
“After a promising drive from Terrebonne, Luke Babin fumbles it in the redzone and East St. John has the ball!”
…
“The Wildcats power it in for six and they’re making an early night of this one.”
…
Romeo stood in the backfield, adrenaline the only thing keeping him from feeling the punishment he’d been taking all night. The Tigers’ chances of a comeback were fading and Coach Anderson’s refusal to simply air it out and roll the dice weren’t helping matters.
Luke called for the snap and Romeo took the handoff cleanly, his legs churning as he approached the line. The linemen created a small gap, but it closed as quickly as it opened, and he was forced to bounce it to the outside.
He high-stepped over the outstretched arms of a defender diving at his legs at the edge of the line and accelerated into open field.
The world seemed to slow as Romeo sprinted toward the sideline, each stride eating up more yards. He cut back to the middle of the field when a safety attempted to get an angle on him, sending the defender stumbling as he tried to change direction.
He kept his legs pumping as he approached the endzone, the smattering of Terrebonne fans still in attendance beginning to cheer.
As he crossed the goal line, he spiked the ball and beat his chest. But as he turned around, something caught his eye.
A yellow flag lay on the field, back near the line of scrimmage.
Romeo crouched down, head in hands, as the referee’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers.
“Holding, Offense, number 75. Ten-yard penalty. Repeat second down.”
…
“That’s going to be it from Houma. East St. John has defeated Terrebonne, 38-13.”
…
“Give us a call,” the man wearing a green jacket said, handing Romeo his card.
“I’ll do that, sir,” Romeo said, still a bit awestruck. He shook the man’s hand and watched as he walked away to talk to an East St. John player.
Royce walked over to him, duffel bag barely above the ground and the exhaustion of the night had already begun to sink in. He plucked the card out of his brother’s hand and examined it before holding it out for him to take back.
“Michigan State, huh?” Royce asked.
“Yeah, crazy shit,” Romeo said. “The usual said, they’d love to get me out for a visit and all. You think this shit for real?”
Royce clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “My nigga, they ain’t sending no one way down to Louisiana for play. Whether that’s for them boys on the other team or us. Got plenty of running backs between Michigan and the Boot. If they say they want you, they want you.”
“I told him I’d be more interested if they offer you, too.”
“I ain’t no Big 10 linebacker, bruh. I ain’t white for starters,” Royce said, laughing. “Don’t fuck your shit up for me. Shoot me some of that NIL money, though. Don’t forget where you came from and who ya people is.”
“Never that,” Romeo said, joining in the laughter.
The two started to walk toward the parking lot.
“How many bad bitches you think they got in Michigan?” Royce asked. “You’d definitely have to end shit with Britni before going up there.”
“Chill out, man,” Romeo said, shoving Royce.
Royce stumbled dramatically, laughing. “I’m just saying. Don’t bring no fucking sand to the beach.”
Royce and Romeo sat on their mother’s porch, each with a bag of ice pressed to their bruises. Royce, his left eye sporting a darkening bruise, had his feet kicked up on an old milk crate while Romeo sat on the steps with a cut on his lip and a few busted knuckles. The fight from the day before had already faded into a memory, replaced by the easy banter between brothers.
“I ain’t really think you were going to throw hands like that. Had me a little shocked,” Royce said, laughing as he gingerly adjusted the ice pack on his eye. “Surprised you ain’t break your hand because I know your bitch ass don’t know how to throw a punch.”
Romeo sucked his teeth then laughed, wincing a little as the cut on his lip stretched. “Negro, please. You know I got hands. I just know that nigga crazy and shit, so I had to be sure he ain’t have nothing on him before I went over there.”
“So, if he did, you were going to let me get got?”
“Nah, but if he did, we didn’t both have to end up in the ER. Someone would’ve had to have told ma.”
Royce threw the ice bag at Romeo as the two of them started laughing, joking about the way Jamie and Jeremi curled up into the fetal position while they were getting stomped out.
Britini stepped out onto the porch, carrying two cans of Coke. She handed one to Romeo as she sat down next to him, pressing at his lip with her thumb to inspect his injuries causing him to wince and pull away.
“Where mine at?” Royce asked.
“In the house,” she shot back. “You’re the one always getting into shit so why don’t you get your ass up and get into that refrigerator?”
Royce was about to respond, but Romeo shot him a look over his shoulder which made him change his mind, not wanting to ruin the mood.
“I thought y’all said that dude did time? Seems a little stupid to be fighting someone that doesn’t have anything to lose, don’t you think?” she asked. The question sounded like it was directed at both of them, but it was clearly only meant for Romeo.
Romeo shrugged, brushing some water from the ice bag off his knuckles. “That’s how it be sometimes. Just about everyone in the bricks know someone who did some time. Can’t not fight them all when it come down to it.”
“Fighting is fucking stupid, so yes, you can just not fight them.”
“That’s how you end up running down the street with just your draws on because everyone know you a pussy,” Royce said.
Britni rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.
Romeo stood up, stretching with a groan. “I gotta piss. I’ll be right back.”
“Get me a Coke, bruh,” Royce said.
“What kind you want?”
“Sprite if she got it in there.”
“Bet,” Romeo said, bending down to kiss Britni on the forehead before jogging into the house.
For a moment, there was silence on the porch as Royce and Britni both stared out into the street, the only sound was the rustling leaves in trees around them. Royce leaned back in the chair, looking up at the rotting wood underneath the awning.
“You’re going to bring him down,” Britni said, her voice laced with tension.
Royce sat up. “The fuck you talking about?”
She turned so she was facing him, her arms crossed over her chest. “He’s got shit going for him, so much going for him. You know that. Every time he gets into some bullshit, it’s because of you and that ghetto ass mindset you have. You need to stop dragging him into your shit.”
“Dragging him into my shit? Romeo’s his own fucking man. He doesn’t have to do a damn fucking thing that I do. Besides, you’re forgetting this Jeremi shit started because he was talking shit about you. I don’t like your ass. I ain’t fighting for you. I was crashing out behind my brother.”
“I don’t even know these people,” she said, disgust on her face. “Doesn’t even matter how it started. You might be willing to fuck your life up, but this isn’t the kind of life that Romeo needs. He’s headed for something better than a jail cell.”
Royce felt a flash of anger, but kept his voice steady. “Romeo is who he is, Britni. He came up the same way I did, with the crackheads, the roaches, piss in the dining room and niggas shooting each other over QPs they can’t even get rich off. No matter how much you try to change him, that shit in his blood. Both of us might end up in Indiana or some shit playing football, but this,” he said, gesturing to the houses around them. “This the shit that made us.”
“I’m not trying to change him,” she shot back. “I’m trying to help him be better than this. He’s got potential, but if he keeps following you around, he’s going to end up dead or in jail.”
“Fuck outta here with that dramatic shit. We got into a fight. Niggas get into fights everyday. What you don’t get is that I love my brother and I’ll always have his back. But he ain’t some project for you to turn into some bowtie wearing motherfucker like your daddy.”
“Better that than in prison like yours.”
“Girl, fuck you,” Royce said, waving his hand dismissively.
“I just want what’s best for him,” she said, turning back around.
“You think I don’t? You’d be a lot easier to be around if you’d drop that holier-than-thou shit. You not better than me. At the end of the day, Romeo’s a man and he’s going to do what he wants. That lil’ pussy you throw him ain’t that powerful.”
Before Britni could respond, the screen door creaked open, and Romeo stepped back onto the porch. He held out an orange Crush to Royce.
“This all Ma had left in there,” he said as Royce took the drink from him. He looked between Royce and Britni, sensing the tense. “Y’all good?”
Royce popped the can open and brought it to his lips. “She just made that I said you ain’t got no hands.”
“Always trying to clown someone,” Romeo said, shaking his head as he sat back down next to Britni, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
As the two of them started a new conversation about something one of Britni’s friends was dealing with, Royce pulled his phone out of his pocket to answer a few texts.
~~~~~~~~~~
“East St. John leads 24-13 here in the third quarter and they have the ball and are threatening to score.”
The tension in the air was thick as Royce lined up, breathing heavily. The Wildcats were driving again, but Terrebonne had managed to get them to a third down and they needed a play to keep the game from getting out of hand.
It didn’t help the boys on the field that the crowd had already started to thin, making East St. John’s cadence audible from yards away.
Royce settled into his stance, watching the quarterback. The ball was snapped, and he exploded forward, his legs pumping. He ducked low, lowering his shoulder and driving into the guard’s chest before swinging his arm up to swipe his arms away. The lineman tried to recover, grabbing at Royce’s jersey, but he spun around to rip free.
The quarterback attempted to step up into the pocket, but it was collapsing around him. Royce closed on him quickly, wrapping his arms around the quarterback’s torso. He lifted him off the ground before slamming him back down to the turf with force.
…
“After a promising drive from Terrebonne, Luke Babin fumbles it in the redzone and East St. John has the ball!”
…
“The Wildcats power it in for six and they’re making an early night of this one.”
…
Romeo stood in the backfield, adrenaline the only thing keeping him from feeling the punishment he’d been taking all night. The Tigers’ chances of a comeback were fading and Coach Anderson’s refusal to simply air it out and roll the dice weren’t helping matters.
Luke called for the snap and Romeo took the handoff cleanly, his legs churning as he approached the line. The linemen created a small gap, but it closed as quickly as it opened, and he was forced to bounce it to the outside.
He high-stepped over the outstretched arms of a defender diving at his legs at the edge of the line and accelerated into open field.
The world seemed to slow as Romeo sprinted toward the sideline, each stride eating up more yards. He cut back to the middle of the field when a safety attempted to get an angle on him, sending the defender stumbling as he tried to change direction.
He kept his legs pumping as he approached the endzone, the smattering of Terrebonne fans still in attendance beginning to cheer.
As he crossed the goal line, he spiked the ball and beat his chest. But as he turned around, something caught his eye.
A yellow flag lay on the field, back near the line of scrimmage.
Romeo crouched down, head in hands, as the referee’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers.
“Holding, Offense, number 75. Ten-yard penalty. Repeat second down.”
…
“That’s going to be it from Houma. East St. John has defeated Terrebonne, 38-13.”
…
“Give us a call,” the man wearing a green jacket said, handing Romeo his card.
“I’ll do that, sir,” Romeo said, still a bit awestruck. He shook the man’s hand and watched as he walked away to talk to an East St. John player.
Royce walked over to him, duffel bag barely above the ground and the exhaustion of the night had already begun to sink in. He plucked the card out of his brother’s hand and examined it before holding it out for him to take back.
“Michigan State, huh?” Royce asked.
“Yeah, crazy shit,” Romeo said. “The usual said, they’d love to get me out for a visit and all. You think this shit for real?”
Royce clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “My nigga, they ain’t sending no one way down to Louisiana for play. Whether that’s for them boys on the other team or us. Got plenty of running backs between Michigan and the Boot. If they say they want you, they want you.”
“I told him I’d be more interested if they offer you, too.”
“I ain’t no Big 10 linebacker, bruh. I ain’t white for starters,” Royce said, laughing. “Don’t fuck your shit up for me. Shoot me some of that NIL money, though. Don’t forget where you came from and who ya people is.”
“Never that,” Romeo said, joining in the laughter.
The two started to walk toward the parking lot.
“How many bad bitches you think they got in Michigan?” Royce asked. “You’d definitely have to end shit with Britni before going up there.”
“Chill out, man,” Romeo said, shoving Royce.
Royce stumbled dramatically, laughing. “I’m just saying. Don’t bring no fucking sand to the beach.”
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djp73
- Posts: 13143
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
Good to see the beys getting along.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7758
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Like djp said, good to see they have seemingly squashed the beef. That Brittni character you've created annoying af though, so well done on that front.
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16727
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16727
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47