Surprising Events
Royce leaned against the wall, scanning the party for something that would hold his attention. Music thumped through the air, people danced in the dim lighting and voices blurred together in a cocktail of noise that felt miles away. He took another sip of his drink, one he’d been nursing since he’d arrived with Malik, Alix and Jonah – another outing they’d convinced him to come out to.
His eyes drifted to Malik, who was surrounded by a group of people Royce didn’t recognize.
“Hey, Royce!” Malik’s voice cut through the dim of the party. “Come here real quick, bruh.”
Sighing, Royce pushed through the crowd. Malik stood between two girls, one of whom was eyeing Royce. The mischievous grin on Malik’s face told Royce something was coming.
“This is Bree,” Malik said, nodding toward one of the girls. “She’s been dying to meet you.”
Bree smiled, her eyes lingering on Royce. She was pretty enough, her dark hair falling loose over her shoulders. He gave a slight nod.
“Hey,” Royce said, swirling the drink in his hand.
“Hey yourself,” she said. There was a teasing edge to her voice. “Malik’s told me all about you.”
Royce glanced at Malik out of the corner of his eyes causing Malik to raise his hands up in mock surrender before leaning in toward Royce.
“I need you to run a little bit of interference, my nigga,” Malik said in a hushed tone. “I been trying to fuck on this girl for months. Just talk to her. Besides, she was just talking about wanting to get fucked tonight. Go get you some, brudda.”
“Man, where the fuck Jonah at?”
“I know you not scared of no pussy. Do me this one solid. Ain’t like you ain’t getting nothing out of it.”
Royce shook his head as Malik disappeared into the crowd with Bree’s friend.
“So, what’d Malik tell you about me?” Royce asked Bree, taking a sip from his drink.
“Enough to be curious,” she said. “He was telling me how you ended up in Baton Rouge.”
“Oh yeah?”
Bree nodded, stepping closer to him, her smile widening just a bit. “Yeah. He was telling me that you were really like that. You know, like that. Did you really get shot?”
Royce’s jaw tensed. He didn’t know whether to curse Malik or people’s morbid curiosity in true crime for being asked such a question at a part.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Where?”
Royce raised an eyebrow, caught off-guard by her boldness. “Why you want to know?”
“I’m just curious,” she said as she leaned in closer to him, their bodies almost touching. “How bad was it?”
“Bad enough.”
“I want to see,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Royce coughed a laugh. He wasn’t sure if she was joking of if this was her idea of flirting. Either way, he moved the cup from his left to his right and held up his palm for her to look at the slight indentation in the middle of his palm with the jagged scar just above it where the surgeons had gone in to repair his hand.
“Alright, let me see your scars from gangbanging, Bree,” he said.
“Oh, mine’s different. I can’t show you here, though, and we wouldn’t be even because you just showed me something on your hand.”
Before he could respond, she grabbed his hand, tugging him toward a nearby door.
Royce followed her outside in the night air, away from the pulsing music and sweaty crowd. They walked past groups of people lingering in the yard until they reached her car, parked a block or so down the street from the house. Bree pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door, sliding into the driver’s seat. Royce leaned against the back door, watching her.
“So,” she said, leaning back to unbutton her pants and pushing them down a bit to show a faint scar running from her hip across her thigh. “I fell trying to jump over a fence when I was a kid. Nothing fancy like you.”
“You know they say white people can’t jump,” Royce said, laughing a bit. It wasn’t lost on him that she had no problem showing him that she wasn’t wearing underwear.
“That’s all I got, but I didn’t miss that limp so I’m sure your hand isn’t your only one,” she said, the smile never leaving her face.
Royce hesitated, thinking about how long it’d been since he’d had sex, and there was a willing participant sitting just in front of him. Slowly, he lifted his shirt to show the biggest of his scars on his side, where a pair of bullets had torn through his skin.
Her eyes flicked to the scar, then back up at him. She bit her lip.
“That’s kinda hot,” she said, voice low. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his skin. “Bet that hurt like a motherfucker.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at her as she trailed her fingers back and forth.
She slid back into the back seat, her eyes never leaving his. “Why don’t you get in? It’s more comfortable in here.”
Royce unlocked the back door, not needing any more prompting. He climbed in, and just had enough time to shut the door before Bree was on him. He winced as she pushed him back, his leg catching awkwardly on the seat, but he didn’t stop her.
She moved into his lap, straddling him.
“Bet you’re glad you listened to Malik,” she whispered in his ear, her lips grazing his skin.
Royce didn’t answer. Only reaching down between them to unbutton his pants.
~~~~~~~~~~
After parting ways with Bree and heading back into the party with her number saved in his phone, all Royce wanted to do was find Malik and go home, figuring that he’d played defense long enough for Malik to get what he was after.
Moving through the groups of people outside the house, Royce scanned the yard for any sign of Malik. People were scattered around laughing, drinking, oblivious to everything else going on around them. But there was no sign of Malik. He checked inside, but again, Malik was nowhere to be found.
Stepping back outside, frustrated, he caught sight of Alix near the side of the house, leaning against the wall. She was loudly slurring her words to three guys standing nearby.
“Fucking hell,” Royce muttered to himself, moving toward them, ignoring the dull, throbbing pain he was feeling in his leg from all the walking and standing he’d done over the last few hours.
As he got closer, he could hear snippets of the conversation, Alix’s voice high-pitched and giggly. The guys weren’t saying much, just letting her ramble.
“Alix,” Royce called out when he was closer. “You see Malik? We’re about to go.”
Alix looked up, squinting as she recognized him. “Royce!” she said, stumbling a bit as she waved him over.
The three guys turned to look at Royce, their postures shifting slightly. They exchanged glances with each other.
“We were just talking, man,” one of the guys said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “No harm.”
“Yeah, I got fucking eyes and ears,” Royce said, grabbing Alix’s wrist and pulling her toward him. “But like I said, we about to leave.”
The guys exchanged glances again, but they didn’t move. Royce could feel them sizing him up.
Without thinking, he reached behind him, resting his hand at his waist. “Yo, fuck off before I air this bitch out. I been waiting to let this bitch sing. Give me a reason.”
The change was instant. All of their bravado faltered, none of them wanting to be the one to test if Royce was bluffing.
“Hey, you got it, man,” one of them muttered, starting to back away.
The other two followed, muttering amongst themselves as they moved off back into the throngs of people at the party. Royce watched them go before turning to Alix, who was swaying slightly, oblivious to the tension that had just passed.
“You good?” he asked her.
She blinked, looking at him with a hazy smile. “I’m fine,” she slurred, draping an arm around his shoulders.
He sighed, holding her up to stop her from putting all of her weight on him. “You gotta walk. I can’t hold you up. Where’s your car?”
“Are you calling me fat?”
“Give me your keys, man,” he said, tapping her pockets.
“Can you even drive?” she asked, but still handed over the keys from her back pocket.
“Better than you can.”
She pressed her hand against his back abruptly. “You don’t even have a fucking gun.”
“Yeah, let’s keep that to ourselves in case those motherfuckers circle back,” Royce said under his breath.
…
Royce pulled into the driveway of Alix’s house, turning off the engine. He looked up at the house, taking it in for a moment. It was a bit smaller than some of the houses they’d taken him to since he started hanging out with them, but there was no questioning that whoever lived in the neighborhood or any individual house had some money.
He glanced over at Alix, who had dozed off in the passenger seat. She stirred when the car stopped, blinking up at him groggily.
“You could make it in the house?” he asked, climbing out of the car.
She stumbled almost immediately when she got out. Royce grabbed her under her arm and hauled her up to her feet. He allowed her to lean on him a bit as they made their way up the driveway and through the front door.
The house was quiet, dimly lit. It smelled of mahogany and there were family pictures everywhere, but it was too dark for Royce to make out anyone on them.
“Where’s your room?” Royce asked her.
She mumbled something incoherent, gesturing toward the stairs.
Royce cursed under his breath at the idea of walking up stairs with a bum leg and Alix not doing much to help herself walk. It was a slow, arduous task with a couple of stumbles, but they eventually made it to the second floor.
Alix all but fell into the door immediately at the top of the stairs. Royce helped her ease down onto the bed. He looked around the room, filled with academic awards and pictures of friends. A framed acceptable letter to LSU was next to the door above the light switch.
Taking one last glance at Alix to make sure she wasn’t on her back, Royce turned to leave, quietly shutting the door behind him.
As he made his way back downstairs, he pulled out his phone to text Malik and ask for a ride in hopes that he wouldn’t need to get an Uber. But he froze when he saw a figure standing at the bottom of the staircase.
An older Black man stood there, arms crossed, watching Royce with a sharp gaze.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked evenly.
“I—I, uh. I’m Alix’s fri—They got a fucking butler?” Royce asked, confused.
“Come here,” the man said, his eyes flicking toward the stairs. Royce descended the steps. “Wait right here. Don’t leave.”
Royce shrugged as the man went upstairs to Alix’s room. He could hear the soft creak of the door as he closed it behind him. A few moments later, the man returned, his expression unreadable.
“Now, let me rephrase my question. Who the fuck are you and why were you in my daughter’s room?” the man said, putting himself between Royce and the door.
Royce looked around as if looking for a hidden camera. “Who is your daughter? Alix? White girl Alix?”
“Stepdaughter. I’m the one asking questions here, though, son.”
“I’m just a friend. She didn’t feel too good so I drove her home. I gotta get going though. My sister doesn’t like when I’m out this late.”
“Didn’t feel good or was drunk? I was born on a day, but it wasn’t yesterday.”
Royce shrugged. “That’s a family talk.”
“What’s your name?” the man asked, his eyes boring into Royce.
“Royce.”
There was a pregnant pause as the man continued to stare at Royce as if he was searching for any hint of a lie. After a moment, he nodded toward the door. “I’ll take you home.”
“Nah, I got a ride on th—”
“I said,” the man interrupted, his voice firm. “I’m taking you home.”
Royce held his hands up and turned toward the door, his leg buckling a bit after the strain of holding up Alix’s weight got to him.
“You know what you smell like, right?” the man asked as he let Royce past him to leave.
Royce held up his shirt to his face and took a deep breath. He coughed a couple times. “That’s, uh – That was another girl.”
“Good answer.”
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16847
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16847
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Part of a Team
Royce sat on the curb outside of the school, backpack slung over his shoulders, waiting for Rana to pick him up. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot, and most of the students had already left. It seemed more and more common each day that Rana would be late picking him up thanks to the absurd number of clubs and after-school activities Roni was involved in.
That was another thing that he wished would return to normal – the ability to come and go as he pleased.
He stared off at the cars trickling away, his mind drifting between the monotony of the school day and gnawing uncertainty that had taken root inside him over the past few months.
Checking his phone, he saw no messages from Rana explaining her tardiness.
“Royce!” a familiar voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Malik walking out of the building.
“Man, you still here?” he asked as he got closer. “You should’ve called up Bree and told her to come scoop you.”
Royce waved his hand dismissively. “Man, I don’t be running behind no white bitches like y’all.”
“I run behind any bitch. I don’t discriminate. You should be thanking me for sliding some pussy your way anyway,” Malik said, sitting down on the curb next to Royce. “But if you not into Bree, let me get her number. I’ll knock that down, too.”
“We ain’t that close, my nigga.”
“I ain’t trying to run no train on her. We ain’t gotta be close. I’m just saying let me get her number from you.”
Royce shook his head. “You got that. Just get it from her next time you see her. Ain’t like she play hard to get. Probably harder not to get it.”
“I’m gonna remember that,” Malik said, laughing, then his expression shifted, a hint of seriousness creeping into his face. “So, why you ain’t go put in the paperwork for the team? They would’ve put you on the roster as long as you passed a physical.”
“I can’t pass a physical,” Royce said, gesturing to his leg. “I never told you I was going do that shit, anyway. Doctors keep telling me I’m never going to be back to normal. You want me to argue with them or something?”
Malik sucked his teeth. “Bruh, I ain’t worried about what no doctors saying.”
“You gonna give me your leg to run on that field?”
“Hell no. We’ll roll you out there like a Make-A-Wish kid and let you score a touchdown or two,” Malik said, laughing. “On the real, though, I talked to coach and he said he’ll talk to you and see what’s up even though you missed the deadline.”
Royce unconsciously rubbed at his shin. “That sounds like a big ass waste of my time.”
“What else you got to do? All you about to do is go home and go to sleep or some shit. It don’t hurt nothing to go have a conversation.”
Royce flexed his hand, reminded of how many times he’d been told by the doctors and physical therapists that football was completely out of the question. He missed it everyday, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be seeing a football field anytime soon.
“Man, I ain’t going waste them people time.”
Malik shook his head, standing up. “Nigga a whole pussy. I can’t believe it.”
“Who you calling a pussy?” Royce asked, a bit of anger seeping into his voice.
“You if you don’t get off your ass and go talk to coach. Sounds to me like you afraid to lace ‘em up with these dogs in BR. I knew you boys from down the bayou were soft, but damn.”
Royce sucked his teeth, slowly getting to his feet, starting to walk back toward the school. “Don’t think I can’t beat your ass, bruh.”
Malik grinned, slapping Royce on shoulder. “I’d bat the piss out of you, but I don’t fight cripples.”
…
The smell hist Royce first. The familiar scent of sweat, old turf and locker room deodorizer. He sat in a chair in the coach’s office, staring at the trophies on the shelf behind his desk. State championships. Something he’d never seen in person before. He looked around the room trying to steady his breathing. Being back in a football locker room for the first time since getting shot felt like stepping into a ghost of his former life.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
He glanced over his shoulder at the locker room. It looked the same as Terrebonne’s, but better in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t quite LSU’s ostentation digs, but it was clear that U-High was affiliated with the university just a stone’s throw away.
“Royce, right?” the coach’s voice broke through his thoughts.
Royce looked up, meeting the coach’s eyes. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a commanding presence. He held an apple in his hand, cutting slices off it as two assistant coaches stood behind him. One flipped through some paperwork while the other leaned against the desk, watching Royce closely.
“Yeah,” Royce said.
“Sir,” the coach said, correcting Royce’s response. “You can call me Coach Cunningham. That’s Coach McDaniels and Coach Vaughn behind me.” He looked down at the laptop in front of him. “Malik’s told me a lot about you. Said you were getting some attention down in Houma. Played linebacker?”
“Yeah,” Royce said before he could catch himself. “Yes, sir.”
Coach Cunningham leaned back in his chair, studying Royce. “You were good enough to start making an impression on a lot of people. Had a few schools sniffing around, kicking the tires on you before you ended up sitting here in my office.”
Royce nodded. “I had a scholarship offer or two.”
“When Malik brought your name up, I had Coach McDaniels look you up. Call down to Terrebonne to talk to the coach down there. He told us what happened to you. My condolences for your brother. I couldn’t imagine losing someone close to me like that.”
“Thanks,” Royce said, not wanting to start a pity party.
“You still involved in that life?” the coach asked, his tone direct.
“I was never involved in it to be still involved in it.”
Coach Cunningham raised an eyebrow. “I’m just asking. You know what it’s like here in Baton Rouge, and you know what kind of program we run here. A lot of these boys come from hard backgrounds. Drugs, gangs, daddy not at home, mama struggling. I’m sure you know what I mean. It takes a long time for people who look like me to connect and you’re going to be a senior. We don’t have a long time if you’re still in the streets.”
Royce shook his head, clenching his jaw. “I’m not in the streets. But I’m not going to lie to you, I haven’t even been told I can play football. They keep saying this is over for me. My leg’s all fucked up and shit.”
“We don’t allow cursing around here, but I’ll let you slide because I hadn’t told you.”
Coach McDaniels, the younger of the two assistants who was leaning against the desk, crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “We got a full roster, so we don’t need you to come in and play for us on day one. At the same time, we’re not going to sit up here and tell you that if you put a jersey on that you’re going to play. This isn’t that kind of football program. All that to say, the season is still five, six months away. Do you think you’ll be able to go by then?”
Royce shrugged. “I can’t tell you one way or the other.”
The other assistant, Coach Vaughn, a stockier guy who gave off a no-nonsense attitude chimed in. “If playing ain’t in the cards for you, but you still want to be around the team, we can find something else for you to do. You could help out as a manager, keep stats, work with the guys in practice.”
“I know what it means to be a part of something, so if you can’t play anymore, we’re happy to have you on in some other way,” Coach Cunningham added.
Royce took a deep breath, resisting the urge to curse the three men out. Being offered a pity job as a waterboy stung more than he expected. But he didn’t say anything, instead keeping his face neutral, even though he felt as if the offer were a slap in the face.
“I appreciate that,” Royce said. “Y’all mind if I think on it?”
Coach Cunningham nodded. “Take your time. We haven’t even started spring camp yet. Just let us know what you decide either way.”
Coach Vaughn walked around the desk and handed Royce a small stack of papers. “This is all the paperwork we’ll need back. Get your parents or your guardian to sign it. You know the drill. You played ball before. We put the forms for players in there, too. Just in case your situation changes.”
“Thanks,” Royce muttered.
Coach Cunningham stood up, wiping his hands on a towel on his desk. He offered his hand to Royce. “It was a pleasure meeting you, son. I hope to see you out there. A young man needs direction in his life.”
Royce shook his hand and then shook those of Coach Vaughn and McDaniels. As he left the office and stepped back into the locker room, the familiar smells and sounds hit him again, flooding him with memories of a time when he knew exactly who he was.
He walked out of the building, shoving the papers into his backpack. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he saw a text from Rana apologizing for being late and telling him she’d finally arrived.
Sighing, he began the trek back to the front of the school.
Royce sat on the curb outside of the school, backpack slung over his shoulders, waiting for Rana to pick him up. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot, and most of the students had already left. It seemed more and more common each day that Rana would be late picking him up thanks to the absurd number of clubs and after-school activities Roni was involved in.
That was another thing that he wished would return to normal – the ability to come and go as he pleased.
He stared off at the cars trickling away, his mind drifting between the monotony of the school day and gnawing uncertainty that had taken root inside him over the past few months.
Checking his phone, he saw no messages from Rana explaining her tardiness.
“Royce!” a familiar voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Malik walking out of the building.
“Man, you still here?” he asked as he got closer. “You should’ve called up Bree and told her to come scoop you.”
Royce waved his hand dismissively. “Man, I don’t be running behind no white bitches like y’all.”
“I run behind any bitch. I don’t discriminate. You should be thanking me for sliding some pussy your way anyway,” Malik said, sitting down on the curb next to Royce. “But if you not into Bree, let me get her number. I’ll knock that down, too.”
“We ain’t that close, my nigga.”
“I ain’t trying to run no train on her. We ain’t gotta be close. I’m just saying let me get her number from you.”
Royce shook his head. “You got that. Just get it from her next time you see her. Ain’t like she play hard to get. Probably harder not to get it.”
“I’m gonna remember that,” Malik said, laughing, then his expression shifted, a hint of seriousness creeping into his face. “So, why you ain’t go put in the paperwork for the team? They would’ve put you on the roster as long as you passed a physical.”
“I can’t pass a physical,” Royce said, gesturing to his leg. “I never told you I was going do that shit, anyway. Doctors keep telling me I’m never going to be back to normal. You want me to argue with them or something?”
Malik sucked his teeth. “Bruh, I ain’t worried about what no doctors saying.”
“You gonna give me your leg to run on that field?”
“Hell no. We’ll roll you out there like a Make-A-Wish kid and let you score a touchdown or two,” Malik said, laughing. “On the real, though, I talked to coach and he said he’ll talk to you and see what’s up even though you missed the deadline.”
Royce unconsciously rubbed at his shin. “That sounds like a big ass waste of my time.”
“What else you got to do? All you about to do is go home and go to sleep or some shit. It don’t hurt nothing to go have a conversation.”
Royce flexed his hand, reminded of how many times he’d been told by the doctors and physical therapists that football was completely out of the question. He missed it everyday, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be seeing a football field anytime soon.
“Man, I ain’t going waste them people time.”
Malik shook his head, standing up. “Nigga a whole pussy. I can’t believe it.”
“Who you calling a pussy?” Royce asked, a bit of anger seeping into his voice.
“You if you don’t get off your ass and go talk to coach. Sounds to me like you afraid to lace ‘em up with these dogs in BR. I knew you boys from down the bayou were soft, but damn.”
Royce sucked his teeth, slowly getting to his feet, starting to walk back toward the school. “Don’t think I can’t beat your ass, bruh.”
Malik grinned, slapping Royce on shoulder. “I’d bat the piss out of you, but I don’t fight cripples.”
…
The smell hist Royce first. The familiar scent of sweat, old turf and locker room deodorizer. He sat in a chair in the coach’s office, staring at the trophies on the shelf behind his desk. State championships. Something he’d never seen in person before. He looked around the room trying to steady his breathing. Being back in a football locker room for the first time since getting shot felt like stepping into a ghost of his former life.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
He glanced over his shoulder at the locker room. It looked the same as Terrebonne’s, but better in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t quite LSU’s ostentation digs, but it was clear that U-High was affiliated with the university just a stone’s throw away.
“Royce, right?” the coach’s voice broke through his thoughts.
Royce looked up, meeting the coach’s eyes. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a commanding presence. He held an apple in his hand, cutting slices off it as two assistant coaches stood behind him. One flipped through some paperwork while the other leaned against the desk, watching Royce closely.
“Yeah,” Royce said.
“Sir,” the coach said, correcting Royce’s response. “You can call me Coach Cunningham. That’s Coach McDaniels and Coach Vaughn behind me.” He looked down at the laptop in front of him. “Malik’s told me a lot about you. Said you were getting some attention down in Houma. Played linebacker?”
“Yeah,” Royce said before he could catch himself. “Yes, sir.”
Coach Cunningham leaned back in his chair, studying Royce. “You were good enough to start making an impression on a lot of people. Had a few schools sniffing around, kicking the tires on you before you ended up sitting here in my office.”
Royce nodded. “I had a scholarship offer or two.”
“When Malik brought your name up, I had Coach McDaniels look you up. Call down to Terrebonne to talk to the coach down there. He told us what happened to you. My condolences for your brother. I couldn’t imagine losing someone close to me like that.”
“Thanks,” Royce said, not wanting to start a pity party.
“You still involved in that life?” the coach asked, his tone direct.
“I was never involved in it to be still involved in it.”
Coach Cunningham raised an eyebrow. “I’m just asking. You know what it’s like here in Baton Rouge, and you know what kind of program we run here. A lot of these boys come from hard backgrounds. Drugs, gangs, daddy not at home, mama struggling. I’m sure you know what I mean. It takes a long time for people who look like me to connect and you’re going to be a senior. We don’t have a long time if you’re still in the streets.”
Royce shook his head, clenching his jaw. “I’m not in the streets. But I’m not going to lie to you, I haven’t even been told I can play football. They keep saying this is over for me. My leg’s all fucked up and shit.”
“We don’t allow cursing around here, but I’ll let you slide because I hadn’t told you.”
Coach McDaniels, the younger of the two assistants who was leaning against the desk, crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “We got a full roster, so we don’t need you to come in and play for us on day one. At the same time, we’re not going to sit up here and tell you that if you put a jersey on that you’re going to play. This isn’t that kind of football program. All that to say, the season is still five, six months away. Do you think you’ll be able to go by then?”
Royce shrugged. “I can’t tell you one way or the other.”
The other assistant, Coach Vaughn, a stockier guy who gave off a no-nonsense attitude chimed in. “If playing ain’t in the cards for you, but you still want to be around the team, we can find something else for you to do. You could help out as a manager, keep stats, work with the guys in practice.”
“I know what it means to be a part of something, so if you can’t play anymore, we’re happy to have you on in some other way,” Coach Cunningham added.
Royce took a deep breath, resisting the urge to curse the three men out. Being offered a pity job as a waterboy stung more than he expected. But he didn’t say anything, instead keeping his face neutral, even though he felt as if the offer were a slap in the face.
“I appreciate that,” Royce said. “Y’all mind if I think on it?”
Coach Cunningham nodded. “Take your time. We haven’t even started spring camp yet. Just let us know what you decide either way.”
Coach Vaughn walked around the desk and handed Royce a small stack of papers. “This is all the paperwork we’ll need back. Get your parents or your guardian to sign it. You know the drill. You played ball before. We put the forms for players in there, too. Just in case your situation changes.”
“Thanks,” Royce muttered.
Coach Cunningham stood up, wiping his hands on a towel on his desk. He offered his hand to Royce. “It was a pleasure meeting you, son. I hope to see you out there. A young man needs direction in his life.”
Royce shook his hand and then shook those of Coach Vaughn and McDaniels. As he left the office and stepped back into the locker room, the familiar smells and sounds hit him again, flooding him with memories of a time when he knew exactly who he was.
He walked out of the building, shoving the papers into his backpack. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he saw a text from Rana apologizing for being late and telling him she’d finally arrived.
Sighing, he began the trek back to the front of the school.
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djp73
- Posts: 13184
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
That's a start 
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Agent
- Posts: 11805
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
Dying to Live
Good guy Royce
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7859
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Sign them papers and get that Icy Hot. We playing.
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Soapy
- Posts: 16591
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16847
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16847
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Zoo Date
Royce’s phone buzzed in his hand just as he stepped out of the shower. He wiped the condensation off the screen and squinted at the message.
’Come outside’
He opened the security camera app that Rana had made him install on his phone when he started living there, swiping to the front yard cameras. Sure enough, Alix was leaning against her car parked in front of Rana’s house.
He hadn’t really spoken to her since bringing her home from that party, not sure if she was avoiding him or he was avoiding her. He quickly threw on some clothes, pocketed his phone and headed outside.
When he opened the door, the Louisiana spring air already beginning to get unbearably hot and thick with humidity, Alix stood up straighter, offering a small, almost awkward smile.
“Hey,” she said softly, giving him a little wave.
Royce dropped the tailgate of Tyrell’s truck and climbed onto it so he could sit down, his leg giving him a bit of trouble. “What’s up?”
Alix glanced down at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. “So, I just wanted to apologize for the other night. You know, you have having to babysit me and then running into my stepdad. Marc can be a little overprotective sometimes.” She tried to laugh it off, but there was a bit of nervousness.
“It’s all good.” Royce shrugged. “I just wasn’t expecting to run into one of us in your house,” he said, pointing at his arm.
“Yeah, he told me that you thought he was the butler. I think you’re going to be public enemy number one for the rest of your life for that one.”
“Hey, I go into a rich person’s house and all I know is the girl that lives there is white. What am I supposed to expect when I see a big Black man standing in front the door? You got two options, butler or he fucking your mama – which I guess ain’t all that incorrect.”
Alix rolled her eyes. “We’re not rich.”
“Two story house? Rich. Argue with somebody else.”
Alix bit her lip, as if weighing whether to continue the conversation or change the subject. Then she seemed to decide on the latter, her face brightening a little as she pushed off the car. “So, uh, I was wondering. Do you want to come to the zoo with me and my little brother today?”
Royce raised an eyebrow, taken off guard by the sudden shift. “The zoo? In New Orleans?”
“Yes, the zoo,” she nodded. “You know, the place with all the animals? Fun for the whole family? We have one here.”
He glanced toward the backseat of her car and noticed a kid in there, maybe nine of ten years old, tapping away on a tablet. He looked mixed, with dark curly hair and big eyes, completely absorbed in whatever game he was playing.
“That your brother?” Royce asked, his tone implying that he wasn’t convinced given what he knew about Alix. “Like your mother’s son?”
Alix caught on quickly, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, he’s my damn brother. Half-brother, whatever. He’s nine. I’m seventeen. Your math ain’t mathing.”
Royce held his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re the one that runs around behind all kinds of Black dudes. Ain’t like we got a culture that don’t have beaucoup teenage mothers.”
“Anyway,” Alix said, rolling her eyes. “You coming or what?”
“Nah,” Royce said, shaking his head. “I’m good. I ain’t trying to walk around smelling giraffe shit all day.”
Alix pursed her lips. “What else are you doing today? Going to hang out in the house and twiddle your thumbs? Scroll on TikTok?”
Royce sucked his teeth. “Why everyone keep saying that shit? Just because I ain’t doing anything doesn’t mean I’m trying to do something.”
“Sounds like you’re not doing anything so you might as well get off your ass and come to the zoo with us.”
“Fuck, man,” Royce said, exhaling. “Whatever. I’ll go, but you owe me.”
“Yeah, just let me know when I have to pay up,” she said, winking at him, before motioning toward the car. “Hop in. It’s a long ride to the zoo.”
Royce sighed, lowering himself from the tailgate. “Might as well go to the fucking New Orleans zoo for all that.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, they were sitting on a wooden bench in a shaded part of the zoo, the warm breeze doing little to cut through the heat of the day. Royce watched as Darius, Alix’s little brother, stood in front of an animal enclosure, wide-eyed as he stared at some big cats lazing under the sun. He was excited, bouncing slightly as he pointed out every little movement to himself.
Alix stretched her legs out in front of her, wiping some sweat from her brow and taking a sip from a water bottle. “That little motherfucker needs to get tired because I’m fucking exhausted and this heat is killing me.”
“Lil’ bro been bouncing off the walls since we got here. He probably got at least three, maybe four, more hours in him before he wants a nap,” Royce said, laughing. “That’s how my little sister is about science shit. And can’t shut the fuck up about it.”
“Yeah, he loves animals,” Alix said, glancing fondly at Darius.
As they sat in companionable silence, an elderly woman walked by, pausing to smile warmly at them.
“It’s so sweet to see a young family spending time together,” she said, placing her hand on Alix’s shoulder. “You don’t see that enough these days with all those cell phones. You two have a beautiful son.”
Alix froze, her face going pale as she opened her mouth to respond. But the woman had already walked away, leaving them along again. Alix stared after her, then turned to Royce. “Don’t you fucking say it.”
“And you got an attitude with me because I thought he was your kid,” Royce said, unable to hold back a laugh. “Should’ve came here solo and then they would’ve thought you were a nice babysitter taking bro out for the day.”
“That’s so fucking embarrassing,” Alix said, covering her face with her hands.
Royce chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s a lot of dudes out here that would be worse options for an assumed baby daddy than me. Imagine if you were out here with some white boy. She would’ve been thinking you cheated on your man and had a baby on him.”
Alix gave him a sideways glance. “You ain’t funny.”
They fell into silence again, the moment lingering awkwardly until Royce finally broke it, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“So, I can’t say I expected your stepdad to be Black,” he said.
Alix looked at him and raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. “Why would anyone expect that? It’s not like I walk around wearing a sign that says it. I don’t post either of my parents on Insta, but the people who are around me enough know and that’s good enough for me.”
“Your pops’ white, though?”
“Marc is my father,” she said, her tone clipped. “I haven’t seen the sperm donor since I was like four. I think he lives in Watson or some shit. I’ll pass on going around those rednecks if it can be helped. But yeah, he’s white.”
Royce nodded, processing that information. “And that’s why you only fuck with Black dudes?”
“I’ve never said that. Malik says that shit and I guess that’s why you’re saying that. But I can’t help it if all I’ve seen my entire life is a Black man treating my mother right while ol’ boy over in the boonies fucking his cousins. Of course, I’m going to look for the same thing.”
“Now, if I said someone related to you fucked their cousins—”
Alix held her hand up cutting him off. “Like I said, rednecks. Seriously, though, it’s 2024. We’re in Louisiana. What do you think these Trump loving ass white boys would say when I brought them home with Marc and Darius in there?”
“I mean, I get it, but they got ain’t shit niggas out there, too. I know I done did my fair share of dirt.”
“Oh? You left bad guy Royce in Houma?” she asked, laughing.
He shook his head. “Never that.”
“It’s not just that, though. It’s probably some shit I need to work through in therapy, but every time a white guy tries to get with me, I just think about getting pregnant and ending up like my mom. Crying before sex isn’t sexy.”
“Shouldn’t be letting these dudes hit raw, Alix,” Royce said, laughing at his own joke.
She shoved his arm. “That’s not the point, dumbass. First of all, I don’t, but it’s just a mental block. My mom had to grow up so fast. I’m not trying to do the same thing.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Royce leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “Same time, though, sounds like excuses. Something that don’t work for one person might work for someone else.”
Alix frowned. “Better safe than sorry.”
Before Royce could respond, Darius waved enthusiastically from a few feet away, his voice rising with excitement, “Alix! Come look at this!”
She sighed, shaking off the conversation as she stood up. “Watch it just be the same tiger he’s been looking at,” she said with a half-smile.
Royce watched as she walked over to where her brother stood, the energy between them light and carefree. He leaned back on the bench, glancing up at the sky as he let their conversation simmer in the back of his mind.
With a sigh, he pushed himself of the bench and followed her and Darius deeper into the zoo.
Royce’s phone buzzed in his hand just as he stepped out of the shower. He wiped the condensation off the screen and squinted at the message.
’Come outside’
He opened the security camera app that Rana had made him install on his phone when he started living there, swiping to the front yard cameras. Sure enough, Alix was leaning against her car parked in front of Rana’s house.
He hadn’t really spoken to her since bringing her home from that party, not sure if she was avoiding him or he was avoiding her. He quickly threw on some clothes, pocketed his phone and headed outside.
When he opened the door, the Louisiana spring air already beginning to get unbearably hot and thick with humidity, Alix stood up straighter, offering a small, almost awkward smile.
“Hey,” she said softly, giving him a little wave.
Royce dropped the tailgate of Tyrell’s truck and climbed onto it so he could sit down, his leg giving him a bit of trouble. “What’s up?”
Alix glanced down at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. “So, I just wanted to apologize for the other night. You know, you have having to babysit me and then running into my stepdad. Marc can be a little overprotective sometimes.” She tried to laugh it off, but there was a bit of nervousness.
“It’s all good.” Royce shrugged. “I just wasn’t expecting to run into one of us in your house,” he said, pointing at his arm.
“Yeah, he told me that you thought he was the butler. I think you’re going to be public enemy number one for the rest of your life for that one.”
“Hey, I go into a rich person’s house and all I know is the girl that lives there is white. What am I supposed to expect when I see a big Black man standing in front the door? You got two options, butler or he fucking your mama – which I guess ain’t all that incorrect.”
Alix rolled her eyes. “We’re not rich.”
“Two story house? Rich. Argue with somebody else.”
Alix bit her lip, as if weighing whether to continue the conversation or change the subject. Then she seemed to decide on the latter, her face brightening a little as she pushed off the car. “So, uh, I was wondering. Do you want to come to the zoo with me and my little brother today?”
Royce raised an eyebrow, taken off guard by the sudden shift. “The zoo? In New Orleans?”
“Yes, the zoo,” she nodded. “You know, the place with all the animals? Fun for the whole family? We have one here.”
He glanced toward the backseat of her car and noticed a kid in there, maybe nine of ten years old, tapping away on a tablet. He looked mixed, with dark curly hair and big eyes, completely absorbed in whatever game he was playing.
“That your brother?” Royce asked, his tone implying that he wasn’t convinced given what he knew about Alix. “Like your mother’s son?”
Alix caught on quickly, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, he’s my damn brother. Half-brother, whatever. He’s nine. I’m seventeen. Your math ain’t mathing.”
Royce held his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re the one that runs around behind all kinds of Black dudes. Ain’t like we got a culture that don’t have beaucoup teenage mothers.”
“Anyway,” Alix said, rolling her eyes. “You coming or what?”
“Nah,” Royce said, shaking his head. “I’m good. I ain’t trying to walk around smelling giraffe shit all day.”
Alix pursed her lips. “What else are you doing today? Going to hang out in the house and twiddle your thumbs? Scroll on TikTok?”
Royce sucked his teeth. “Why everyone keep saying that shit? Just because I ain’t doing anything doesn’t mean I’m trying to do something.”
“Sounds like you’re not doing anything so you might as well get off your ass and come to the zoo with us.”
“Fuck, man,” Royce said, exhaling. “Whatever. I’ll go, but you owe me.”
“Yeah, just let me know when I have to pay up,” she said, winking at him, before motioning toward the car. “Hop in. It’s a long ride to the zoo.”
Royce sighed, lowering himself from the tailgate. “Might as well go to the fucking New Orleans zoo for all that.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, they were sitting on a wooden bench in a shaded part of the zoo, the warm breeze doing little to cut through the heat of the day. Royce watched as Darius, Alix’s little brother, stood in front of an animal enclosure, wide-eyed as he stared at some big cats lazing under the sun. He was excited, bouncing slightly as he pointed out every little movement to himself.
Alix stretched her legs out in front of her, wiping some sweat from her brow and taking a sip from a water bottle. “That little motherfucker needs to get tired because I’m fucking exhausted and this heat is killing me.”
“Lil’ bro been bouncing off the walls since we got here. He probably got at least three, maybe four, more hours in him before he wants a nap,” Royce said, laughing. “That’s how my little sister is about science shit. And can’t shut the fuck up about it.”
“Yeah, he loves animals,” Alix said, glancing fondly at Darius.
As they sat in companionable silence, an elderly woman walked by, pausing to smile warmly at them.
“It’s so sweet to see a young family spending time together,” she said, placing her hand on Alix’s shoulder. “You don’t see that enough these days with all those cell phones. You two have a beautiful son.”
Alix froze, her face going pale as she opened her mouth to respond. But the woman had already walked away, leaving them along again. Alix stared after her, then turned to Royce. “Don’t you fucking say it.”
“And you got an attitude with me because I thought he was your kid,” Royce said, unable to hold back a laugh. “Should’ve came here solo and then they would’ve thought you were a nice babysitter taking bro out for the day.”
“That’s so fucking embarrassing,” Alix said, covering her face with her hands.
Royce chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s a lot of dudes out here that would be worse options for an assumed baby daddy than me. Imagine if you were out here with some white boy. She would’ve been thinking you cheated on your man and had a baby on him.”
Alix gave him a sideways glance. “You ain’t funny.”
They fell into silence again, the moment lingering awkwardly until Royce finally broke it, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“So, I can’t say I expected your stepdad to be Black,” he said.
Alix looked at him and raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. “Why would anyone expect that? It’s not like I walk around wearing a sign that says it. I don’t post either of my parents on Insta, but the people who are around me enough know and that’s good enough for me.”
“Your pops’ white, though?”
“Marc is my father,” she said, her tone clipped. “I haven’t seen the sperm donor since I was like four. I think he lives in Watson or some shit. I’ll pass on going around those rednecks if it can be helped. But yeah, he’s white.”
Royce nodded, processing that information. “And that’s why you only fuck with Black dudes?”
“I’ve never said that. Malik says that shit and I guess that’s why you’re saying that. But I can’t help it if all I’ve seen my entire life is a Black man treating my mother right while ol’ boy over in the boonies fucking his cousins. Of course, I’m going to look for the same thing.”
“Now, if I said someone related to you fucked their cousins—”
Alix held her hand up cutting him off. “Like I said, rednecks. Seriously, though, it’s 2024. We’re in Louisiana. What do you think these Trump loving ass white boys would say when I brought them home with Marc and Darius in there?”
“I mean, I get it, but they got ain’t shit niggas out there, too. I know I done did my fair share of dirt.”
“Oh? You left bad guy Royce in Houma?” she asked, laughing.
He shook his head. “Never that.”
“It’s not just that, though. It’s probably some shit I need to work through in therapy, but every time a white guy tries to get with me, I just think about getting pregnant and ending up like my mom. Crying before sex isn’t sexy.”
“Shouldn’t be letting these dudes hit raw, Alix,” Royce said, laughing at his own joke.
She shoved his arm. “That’s not the point, dumbass. First of all, I don’t, but it’s just a mental block. My mom had to grow up so fast. I’m not trying to do the same thing.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Royce leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “Same time, though, sounds like excuses. Something that don’t work for one person might work for someone else.”
Alix frowned. “Better safe than sorry.”
Before Royce could respond, Darius waved enthusiastically from a few feet away, his voice rising with excitement, “Alix! Come look at this!”
She sighed, shaking off the conversation as she stood up. “Watch it just be the same tiger he’s been looking at,” she said with a half-smile.
Royce watched as she walked over to where her brother stood, the energy between them light and carefree. He leaned back on the bench, glancing up at the sky as he let their conversation simmer in the back of his mind.
With a sigh, he pushed himself of the bench and followed her and Darius deeper into the zoo.
-
Soapy
- Posts: 16591
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
buster ahh nigga still ain't learned his lesson
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16847
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
If you see these dogs out in your yard, just know I'm upstairs going hard. BING BONG