Dying to Live
-
djp73
- Posts: 13185
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
hopefully UHigh got Royce's paperwork right with Terrebonne so they don't get booted out the playoffs.
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16873
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 7876
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Poochie gonna end up six feet under, huh.
-
djp73
- Posts: 13185
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
Poochie, Meech, Britni and Jamie’s baby momma gonna team up to take out Royce
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16873
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Rocky Top
“Welcome to beautiful Knoxville, Tennessee, the Volunteer State. The local time is 11:39 a.m. and the weather today will be a balmy 54 with a high of 61. We hope you’ve enjoyed your time flying with Southwest and that we’ll see you again.”
…
The jet lag hadn’t quite set in by the time Royce touched down in Knoxville. In the heat of everything over the last couple of weeks, he’d almost forgotten that he’d scheduled an official visit to Tennessee. Fortunately, starting with Alabama meant he was already used to the digs that SEC football came with.
As soon as Royce stepped out of the black SUV that whisked him from the airport, he was hit with that same sense of awe that he’d felt when he was in Tuscaloosa. No matter how many new cities he would see and how many new things he’d experience, he would always feel like a fish out of water—a kid who’d never gone anywhere that wasn’t within driving distance and even then, going to New Orleans was a big deal.
A staffer wearing an orange polo greeted Royce, shaking his hand with a wide smile before handing him a bag filled with swag. “Welcome to Knoxville, Royce.”
The staffer ushered him toward the football complex, its massive windows reflecting the scenery around the campus.
As they entered the complex, the hum of activity buzzed around him. The air inside was crisp, tinged with the faint scent of fresh turf and ambition. Like Alabama, the walls were lined with displays celebrating Tennessee’s storied history—championship banners, jerseys of NFL greats who once wore the team colors, and pictures of big plays blown up onto the walls. A large mural of Neyland Stadium during a packed game day stretched across one wall, depicting a sea of fans with their hands raised in unison for the iconic Vol Walk.
The staffer stopped in front of the office of the Vols’ linebacker coach, William Inge, who Royce had met once before and who had been recruiting him over the last few weeks. The staffer knocked on the door and the man appeared.
“Royce! Been waiting for you all day,” the man said, shaking Royce’s hand. “I hope the flight wasn’t too bad.” He took in Royce’s attire, a hoodie and some jeans. “I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t hit the coldest part of winter yet. I know you Louisiana boys don’t know about the cold.”
Royce laughed. “Yeah, I was worried about that.”
Inge looked at the staffer and nodded. “I got it from here. Thanks, Mike.”
Inge guided him through the facility, pointing out every feature in a manner that was clearly practiced hundreds of times.
“This is where champions are built,” the coach said, gesturing to a sprawling weight room filed will glistening equipment. Rows of dumbbells lined the walls, and in the center, a 50-yard indoor turf field sparkled under overhead lights. Royce could see himself there, pushing his limits, becoming a better player.
“We’ve got top of the line doctors and trainers that are going to keep you fighting fit all season,” Inge said as they walked into a sleek recovery suite, complete with hot tubs and massage tables. “You won’t have to worry about injuries. We’ll keep you at your best.”
The tour continued into the film room, which felt more like a private movie theater. Royce sank into a plush leather seat as Inge briefly queued up footage of Tennessee’s linebackers making plays.
“That could be you, son,” Inge said, tapping the screen where a defender delivered a crushing hit. “You give us three or four years of your life and we’ll make sure that we do whatever we can to set you up for the next level.”
The words lingered as Royce was ushered into Coach Heupel’s office. Heupel walked around from behind his desk, shaking Royce’s hand.
“How are you doing, son?” Coach Heupel asked. “How do you all say it down there in Louisiana? How’s ya mama and them?”
Royce laughed, both sincerely and because of the awkwardness of the man saying such a phrase. They were laying it on thick despite Royce being a small fry in the grand scheme of things.
“Yes, sir. I’m doing alright,” Royce said.
The meeting was straightforward as Heupel and Inge detailed what they saw in Royce’s game and where they thought he could fit in with the Volunteers. They were honest about his timeline for starting, “in a year or two, but crazier things have happened. It all depends on how hard you’re willing to work.”
“You’ve got what it takes to play at a high level. I know there are probably a lot of people in your ear saying this or that, but while you’re raw, we can see the potential,” Heupel said.
“You have a good head on your shoulders. You have great ability to read the offense and react even at a young age. We can give you the physical tools. You already have the mental ones. With a little work ethic, there is no telling how far you can go,” Inge added.
“Hopefully, we’ll see you in orange and white next fall,” Heupel said.
Despite the lingering darkness in his mood, the words sent a rush of pride and anticipation through Royce. It’s one thing to hear a coach talk about potential but it was an entirely different thing for coaches to outline a plan for a player.
When the meeting ended, the staffer returned and guided him to the stadium. He’d be taking in a game the next day, but was treated to seeing Neyland Stadium and all of its grandeur before 100,000 fans filled it.
“Every player says that there is no greater place to play than right here,” the staffer said, smiling.
Royce stared up at the seats, imagining himself on the field as the fans chanted and cheered the team on.
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce sat across from a hostess at a late-night campus mixture. Kristie. Her sleek, athletic frame spoke of years of relentless training, and her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swayed with each confident step. Her hazel eyes gleamed with intelligence and a playful edge that could disarm even the most guarded.
“I love the way y’all say baby down there,” Kristie said, holding a glass filled with a mixed drink by the brim as she looked at Royce. “I would definitely pay to have someone call me every morning and night just to say ‘good morning, baby’ and ‘good night, baby.’”
Royce laughed, pushing his phone that rested on the table toward her. “Just put your phone number in there and I’ll do it for a small fee. Discounted for the first three months as a first time member.”
“I don’t even know if you say it the way I like, though!” Kristie swatted at his arm.
“Baby, we ain’t gotta just limit it good morning and good night,” Royce said, winking at her before bringing the beer in his hand to his lips.
Kristie nodded as she took a sip from her drink. “Alright, that’s it. You’re authentic. I’ll have to remember to do a little extra to get you to come here so I can get my fill of that.”
“I need to see your spice rack so I know if y’all know how to cook up here before I say I’m going to bring my ass up here for four years. If y’all not seasoning your food then I don’t know if I can do it.”
Kristie raised an eyebrow before downing the rest of her drink. “Let’s get out of here then. You’re not going to find out what spices I got unless you come to my apartment since I doubt you’d believe me if I told you.”
“It better be more than salt and black pepper.” Royce laughed, finishing his drink.
They stepped out into the cold night, the noise of the mixer fading behind them as htye strolled along the campus paths. The moonlight cast soft shadows on the manicured lawns and the distant hum of crickets filled the space between their words.
“You run, right?” Royce asked.
“Cross country. I might not be sprinter fast, but I’ll be damned if you can run further than I can,” she said.
“How’s being a student-athlete? Even though that shit sounds stupid to say.”
Kristie laughed. “I’m not a football player. There aren’t many opportunities for us after graduation. It’s hard. I’m not going to lie to you. If you want to have a social life, anyway. All your friends are going to be complaining about 8 a.m. classes and you’re waking up at 5 a.m. for something and still have to go to class at 8.”
Royce nodded, taking in her words. “That makes sense. No one ever really talks to me about school so I was just wondering. I know it’s not as important, but shit, I gotta at least stay eligible, right?”
“Again, football player? I’m sure you already know how to get someone else to do work for you,” she said.
“I could be Einstein for all you know.”
“Could be, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t asked some girl with stars in her eyes to do your work for you.”
“You got me there.”
They reached her on-campus apartment a short while later. She opened the door and walked in first, Royce following behind her. She stopped in the foyer and turned back toward him, reaching out and lightly brushing his hand.
Her touch was gentle, her presence magnetic. He’d made a promise to himself to not repeat his mistakes at Alabama with Carmen, to try to keep up some kind of pretense that he was seeking out something serious with Sadie—or Alix.
“Nah, I shouldn’t,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her.
Kristie tilted her head, her voice a whisper. “Then don’t think so hard.”
When her lips touched his, it wasn’t passion he felt—it was escape. It was the temporary quieting of the storm inside him, a fleeting moment of connection that came with a price he already knew he couldn’t afford.
…
Royce lay awake in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his actions pressed against his mind. Kristie was gone, her laughter now a memory echoing faintly in his mind.
He replayed Alix’s words to him the other day, a broken kid from a broken home who couldn’t find it in him to stop the cycle. That’s what he was. She was right even if he didn’t want to admit it.
He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his message. A lingering conversation from Sadie awaited a reply while Alix’s last message was a video of her and Darius with her little brother saying “Tennessee stinks.”
Royce tossed the phone aside and exhaled deeply. He didn’t want to keep living like this, trapped in a cycle of mistakes and regret, but no matter how hard he tried to break free, his nature pulled him back.
At least, he had a football game to look forward to attending the next day.
“Welcome to beautiful Knoxville, Tennessee, the Volunteer State. The local time is 11:39 a.m. and the weather today will be a balmy 54 with a high of 61. We hope you’ve enjoyed your time flying with Southwest and that we’ll see you again.”
…
The jet lag hadn’t quite set in by the time Royce touched down in Knoxville. In the heat of everything over the last couple of weeks, he’d almost forgotten that he’d scheduled an official visit to Tennessee. Fortunately, starting with Alabama meant he was already used to the digs that SEC football came with.
As soon as Royce stepped out of the black SUV that whisked him from the airport, he was hit with that same sense of awe that he’d felt when he was in Tuscaloosa. No matter how many new cities he would see and how many new things he’d experience, he would always feel like a fish out of water—a kid who’d never gone anywhere that wasn’t within driving distance and even then, going to New Orleans was a big deal.
A staffer wearing an orange polo greeted Royce, shaking his hand with a wide smile before handing him a bag filled with swag. “Welcome to Knoxville, Royce.”
The staffer ushered him toward the football complex, its massive windows reflecting the scenery around the campus.
As they entered the complex, the hum of activity buzzed around him. The air inside was crisp, tinged with the faint scent of fresh turf and ambition. Like Alabama, the walls were lined with displays celebrating Tennessee’s storied history—championship banners, jerseys of NFL greats who once wore the team colors, and pictures of big plays blown up onto the walls. A large mural of Neyland Stadium during a packed game day stretched across one wall, depicting a sea of fans with their hands raised in unison for the iconic Vol Walk.
The staffer stopped in front of the office of the Vols’ linebacker coach, William Inge, who Royce had met once before and who had been recruiting him over the last few weeks. The staffer knocked on the door and the man appeared.
“Royce! Been waiting for you all day,” the man said, shaking Royce’s hand. “I hope the flight wasn’t too bad.” He took in Royce’s attire, a hoodie and some jeans. “I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t hit the coldest part of winter yet. I know you Louisiana boys don’t know about the cold.”
Royce laughed. “Yeah, I was worried about that.”
Inge looked at the staffer and nodded. “I got it from here. Thanks, Mike.”
Inge guided him through the facility, pointing out every feature in a manner that was clearly practiced hundreds of times.
“This is where champions are built,” the coach said, gesturing to a sprawling weight room filed will glistening equipment. Rows of dumbbells lined the walls, and in the center, a 50-yard indoor turf field sparkled under overhead lights. Royce could see himself there, pushing his limits, becoming a better player.
“We’ve got top of the line doctors and trainers that are going to keep you fighting fit all season,” Inge said as they walked into a sleek recovery suite, complete with hot tubs and massage tables. “You won’t have to worry about injuries. We’ll keep you at your best.”
The tour continued into the film room, which felt more like a private movie theater. Royce sank into a plush leather seat as Inge briefly queued up footage of Tennessee’s linebackers making plays.
“That could be you, son,” Inge said, tapping the screen where a defender delivered a crushing hit. “You give us three or four years of your life and we’ll make sure that we do whatever we can to set you up for the next level.”
The words lingered as Royce was ushered into Coach Heupel’s office. Heupel walked around from behind his desk, shaking Royce’s hand.
“How are you doing, son?” Coach Heupel asked. “How do you all say it down there in Louisiana? How’s ya mama and them?”
Royce laughed, both sincerely and because of the awkwardness of the man saying such a phrase. They were laying it on thick despite Royce being a small fry in the grand scheme of things.
“Yes, sir. I’m doing alright,” Royce said.
The meeting was straightforward as Heupel and Inge detailed what they saw in Royce’s game and where they thought he could fit in with the Volunteers. They were honest about his timeline for starting, “in a year or two, but crazier things have happened. It all depends on how hard you’re willing to work.”
“You’ve got what it takes to play at a high level. I know there are probably a lot of people in your ear saying this or that, but while you’re raw, we can see the potential,” Heupel said.
“You have a good head on your shoulders. You have great ability to read the offense and react even at a young age. We can give you the physical tools. You already have the mental ones. With a little work ethic, there is no telling how far you can go,” Inge added.
“Hopefully, we’ll see you in orange and white next fall,” Heupel said.
Despite the lingering darkness in his mood, the words sent a rush of pride and anticipation through Royce. It’s one thing to hear a coach talk about potential but it was an entirely different thing for coaches to outline a plan for a player.
When the meeting ended, the staffer returned and guided him to the stadium. He’d be taking in a game the next day, but was treated to seeing Neyland Stadium and all of its grandeur before 100,000 fans filled it.
“Every player says that there is no greater place to play than right here,” the staffer said, smiling.
Royce stared up at the seats, imagining himself on the field as the fans chanted and cheered the team on.
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce sat across from a hostess at a late-night campus mixture. Kristie. Her sleek, athletic frame spoke of years of relentless training, and her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swayed with each confident step. Her hazel eyes gleamed with intelligence and a playful edge that could disarm even the most guarded.
“I love the way y’all say baby down there,” Kristie said, holding a glass filled with a mixed drink by the brim as she looked at Royce. “I would definitely pay to have someone call me every morning and night just to say ‘good morning, baby’ and ‘good night, baby.’”
Royce laughed, pushing his phone that rested on the table toward her. “Just put your phone number in there and I’ll do it for a small fee. Discounted for the first three months as a first time member.”
“I don’t even know if you say it the way I like, though!” Kristie swatted at his arm.
“Baby, we ain’t gotta just limit it good morning and good night,” Royce said, winking at her before bringing the beer in his hand to his lips.
Kristie nodded as she took a sip from her drink. “Alright, that’s it. You’re authentic. I’ll have to remember to do a little extra to get you to come here so I can get my fill of that.”
“I need to see your spice rack so I know if y’all know how to cook up here before I say I’m going to bring my ass up here for four years. If y’all not seasoning your food then I don’t know if I can do it.”
Kristie raised an eyebrow before downing the rest of her drink. “Let’s get out of here then. You’re not going to find out what spices I got unless you come to my apartment since I doubt you’d believe me if I told you.”
“It better be more than salt and black pepper.” Royce laughed, finishing his drink.
They stepped out into the cold night, the noise of the mixer fading behind them as htye strolled along the campus paths. The moonlight cast soft shadows on the manicured lawns and the distant hum of crickets filled the space between their words.
“You run, right?” Royce asked.
“Cross country. I might not be sprinter fast, but I’ll be damned if you can run further than I can,” she said.
“How’s being a student-athlete? Even though that shit sounds stupid to say.”
Kristie laughed. “I’m not a football player. There aren’t many opportunities for us after graduation. It’s hard. I’m not going to lie to you. If you want to have a social life, anyway. All your friends are going to be complaining about 8 a.m. classes and you’re waking up at 5 a.m. for something and still have to go to class at 8.”
Royce nodded, taking in her words. “That makes sense. No one ever really talks to me about school so I was just wondering. I know it’s not as important, but shit, I gotta at least stay eligible, right?”
“Again, football player? I’m sure you already know how to get someone else to do work for you,” she said.
“I could be Einstein for all you know.”
“Could be, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t asked some girl with stars in her eyes to do your work for you.”
“You got me there.”
They reached her on-campus apartment a short while later. She opened the door and walked in first, Royce following behind her. She stopped in the foyer and turned back toward him, reaching out and lightly brushing his hand.
Her touch was gentle, her presence magnetic. He’d made a promise to himself to not repeat his mistakes at Alabama with Carmen, to try to keep up some kind of pretense that he was seeking out something serious with Sadie—or Alix.
“Nah, I shouldn’t,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her.
Kristie tilted her head, her voice a whisper. “Then don’t think so hard.”
When her lips touched his, it wasn’t passion he felt—it was escape. It was the temporary quieting of the storm inside him, a fleeting moment of connection that came with a price he already knew he couldn’t afford.
…
Royce lay awake in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his actions pressed against his mind. Kristie was gone, her laughter now a memory echoing faintly in his mind.
He replayed Alix’s words to him the other day, a broken kid from a broken home who couldn’t find it in him to stop the cycle. That’s what he was. She was right even if he didn’t want to admit it.
He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his message. A lingering conversation from Sadie awaited a reply while Alix’s last message was a video of her and Darius with her little brother saying “Tennessee stinks.”
Royce tossed the phone aside and exhaled deeply. He didn’t want to keep living like this, trapped in a cycle of mistakes and regret, but no matter how hard he tried to break free, his nature pulled him back.
At least, he had a football game to look forward to attending the next day.
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16873
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
East Buchanan
The aroma of grilled burgers and fries wafted through the air as Royce slid into the booth at the diner, his stomach growling after a grueling practice. Despite the team having a couple weeks before their first playoff game, Coach Cunningham wasn’t easing up on them as the Cubs sought out another state title.
Malik, Donovan and Justin were already seated, joking about some of the younger guys on the team who had managed to fumble through even the most basic drills.
“I’m telling y’all,” Justin said, shaking his head as he stabbed a fry into a mound of ketchup. “I don’t know why Coach putting these JV niggas out there on the field when we practicing for the playoffs. If they ain’t up to scratch by now, they ain’t never gonna be. Tell them boys to stay home.”
Malik snorted. “He do this shit every season, too. Got them boys out there looking like they trying out for a ballet, spinning and shit to try to not see contact.”
The table erupted in laughter, and Royce couldn’t help but join in, the tension in his chest easing for a moment. Donovan reached for his soda, still chuckling.
“Man, I ain’t worried about none of that. I need to know who we playing so I can start figuring out who ass we beating,” Donovan said, shaking his head. “It’s gonna be belt to ass whoever it is, but the wait be some bullshit.”
“Y’all ain’t worried about being out of shape because we been rolling through everyone?” Royce asked, still being pretty new to being on a dominant team. “It feel like we been on autopilot on some shit. Go out there, demolish some white boys and move on.”
Malik leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms. “What you think the first couple rounds of the playoffs going to be like? Like Donovan said, we’re gonna be handing out BTAs until the semis.”
“Shit, more like the finals,” Justin said.
Royce fell into silence as they continued to banter with one another. The laughter faded into the background as his thoughts circled back to something that had been on his mind for the last week.
“Yo,” he said, clearing his throat. “Y’all know that nigga Meech?”
The playful energy at the table evaporated in an instant. Malik’s face turned serious, and Donovan’s expression hardened. Justin rubbed at his nose, pretending to ignore what Royce had said.
“Poochie cousin?” Malik asked. “What about him?”
Royce shrugged. “Yeah. Poochie and him ran into me in the Wing Stop last week. I was just wondering if y’all knew him.
Malik nodded, exhaling slowly. “I know him, obviously. That nigga Poochie grew up down the street. Meech would come around. He why Poochie think he can rap. Probably be rapping about what Meech do.”
“Oh, he affiliated?” Royce asked.
“Yeah, he run out a trap over on East Buchanan,” Donovan said, making sure to keep his voice low with the other patrons sitting around them. “He got all kinds of hustles, though. Not just selling dope.”
Justin nodded. “He always trying to be on some American Gangster shit though. Giving the hood turkeys during Thanksgiving and shit like he not pumping that poison into the hood.”
Royce sat back and took in their words. “That’s why Poochie always be on some fuck shit, then. He know his cousin probably already got a few bodies and be itching to add to his resume. Knew he was pussy.”
“Exactly,” Malik said, pointing at Royce to punctuate the word. “Especially now that Poochie can make a little money for him with them fools who be betting on high school football like some whole ass addicts.”
“He throwing games?” Royce asked.
“Nah, nothing like that. Everyone just knows Catholic gonna win every game.”
“He probably ain’t gonna do it to his own people, but I heard he be extorting the fuck out of these motherfuckers out here now that NIL a thing. Kick them a little money on the front end and then come with his hand out when they get to college,” Donovan said.
“Can’t tell him no either. How you gonna go tell the administration at your school you been taking money from a drug dealer and now he threatening to put some foul shit out on you?” Justin shook his head, eating another fry.
“So, that’s what he was trying to do to me,” Royce said.
Malik raised an eyebrow. “He tried to give you some money?”
“Not like that. He just said that he got opportunities for ‘young stars’ in BR.”
Justin let out a low whistle. “Yep, that’s how he get them.”
“But this nigga ain’t like Pablo Esocbar or something. How he gonna touch you if you not at a Louisiana school? If I take some money from him and go to fucking Washington State, that’s nothing to write off as another crazy scammer,” Royce said.
“Man, don’t do that shit,” Malik said. “You a few months from going to college and you at least gonna get a few hundred bucks off some bullshit NIL deal. Ain’t like you really need it with your rich ass brother-in-law.”
“He ain’t rich,” Royce shook his head.
“Nigga, rich enough.”
“I’m with Malik,” Donovan said. “You already know shit foul when someone running around on a street they talk about in rap songs.”
“Make a left on East Buchanan, press the pedal, we in throttle,” Justin said, reciting the lyrics to a Kevin Gates song.
Royce held his hands up. “Y’all right. Y’all right. I was just thinking out loud.”
Donovan and Malik were called up to the counter to get their food and when they arrived, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but Royce’s mind remained miles away.
~~~~~~~~~~
The soft glow of string lights illuminated Rana’s patio, casting warm pools of light on the wooden deck. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers Rana had planted along the fence, and the distance hum of cicadas provided a soundtrack to the night. Royce leaned back in a creaky lawn chair, sipping on a beer while Arianna and Toni sprawled on a wicker loveseat across from him.
“Why you ain’t tell me that you and Reg got into it?” Arianna asked. “I saw that boy the next day by Ma Beulah and both his eyes were blacked.”
Royce shrugged. “I ain’t think it mattered. We used to be fighting all the time. Either us or one of us and Rome. That’s just how brothers are.”
“Your mama still on some foul shit, though,” Toni said, shaking her head.
“Yeah,” Royce said, his tone letting them know that he wasn’t interested in broaching the conversation. He changed the subject to drive home that point. “Man, it’s been wild going to these schools and seeing their facilities and shit.”
Arianna leaned over to Toni. “Now, why is he going to sit here playing in our faces talking about some damn weight rooms? We all know that he was out there fucking on a bunch of white girls trying to get him to commit there.”
“I wasn’t doing that shit,” Royce said, waving his hand dismissively.
“You a damn lie. You ain’t never said no if it’s thrown at you. You a dirty motherfucker,” Arianna laughed.
“It really be your own people,” Royce shook his head, taking a sip from the beer, letting the playful banter fill the silence. But as their laughter died down, the weight of everything crept back in, heavy and unshakeable. He looked at his cousins and decided to steer the conversation somewhere more serious.
“Say,” Royce began, setting his drink down. “Why y’all going to lame ass ULL? Might as well have gone to Nicholls for all that.”
Toni grinned and pulled her oversized hoodie closer. “Well, Deshawn got a football scholarship there. He wanted me to come with him, and honestly, it just made sense. It’s an alright school and it gives me a chance to spread my wings a little bit.”
It wasn’t lost on Royce that Toni’s situation with Deshawn was the opposite of Alix and Malik—or him. Hell, the thought of choosing a landing spot because someone else was going there seemed absurd even to him. One argument that went too far leading to a breakup and you’d be stuck in the same place with them for at least four years.
Royce raised an eyebrow and looked at Arianna. “That don’t explain why you going there.”
“I just figured that I’d roll with my girl out to Lafayette,” Arianna said, shrugging. “That way I know I ain’t gotta live in a random dorm with some random ass girl that I don’t know from Methuselah.”
“Oh, you ain’t got no white boy you running behind out there? Or you just gonna rack them up once you get to campus?” Royce laughed.
“Boy, don’t play with me,” Arianna said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m just saying that you got a type, cuzzo.”
Arianna flipped him off. “I know you ain’t talking. How’s Alix?”
“She does have a point,” Toni added in.
“You motherfuckers already acting like y’all attached at the fucking hip, huh?” Royce finished off his beer and put the bottle on the ground next to the chair. “Me and Alix are just friends and y’all know that.”
“If she’s just your friend, I got a whole list of guys that I just want to be friends with,” Arianna laughed.
Toni leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What about you? Have you figured out where you’re going to college yet? It’s a different decision for you with all these schools offering you free rides.
“Shit, I don’t know,” Royce admitted. “I’m just trying to figure out what school is going to offer me the most money. None of these motherfuckers talking numbers. Shit, most of them ain’t even talking about if I’m going to play or not.”
Adrianna leaned back, her expression softening. “Wasn’t Southern the first school to recruit you? Just go there. It’s close to home and you know they really want you.”
Royce shook his head. “Nah, that’s too small of a school. Dudes on the team getting six figures over four years. That’s what I need. Something that’s really going to set me up since… since I’m on my own on some shit.”
Toni nodded slowly. “We get it. But don’t go somewhere that you’re just a number. It’s bad enough with regular students. It’s really gotta suck when you’re an athlete and no one knows your name.”
“Yeah,” Arianna agreed. “You gotta go somewhere you can shine. You ain’t do all you did to come back to be shit on. Go somewhere they’ll know your worth.”
Royce leaned back, nodding as he let their words sink in. He appreciated their advice, but the doubts lingered. How could anyone see his worth when he wasn’t sure if he saw his own worth?
The night stretched on, filled with more jokes and reminiscing, but Royce’s thoughts raced from place to place. Now, more than ever, he felt the weight of his decisions.
The aroma of grilled burgers and fries wafted through the air as Royce slid into the booth at the diner, his stomach growling after a grueling practice. Despite the team having a couple weeks before their first playoff game, Coach Cunningham wasn’t easing up on them as the Cubs sought out another state title.
Malik, Donovan and Justin were already seated, joking about some of the younger guys on the team who had managed to fumble through even the most basic drills.
“I’m telling y’all,” Justin said, shaking his head as he stabbed a fry into a mound of ketchup. “I don’t know why Coach putting these JV niggas out there on the field when we practicing for the playoffs. If they ain’t up to scratch by now, they ain’t never gonna be. Tell them boys to stay home.”
Malik snorted. “He do this shit every season, too. Got them boys out there looking like they trying out for a ballet, spinning and shit to try to not see contact.”
The table erupted in laughter, and Royce couldn’t help but join in, the tension in his chest easing for a moment. Donovan reached for his soda, still chuckling.
“Man, I ain’t worried about none of that. I need to know who we playing so I can start figuring out who ass we beating,” Donovan said, shaking his head. “It’s gonna be belt to ass whoever it is, but the wait be some bullshit.”
“Y’all ain’t worried about being out of shape because we been rolling through everyone?” Royce asked, still being pretty new to being on a dominant team. “It feel like we been on autopilot on some shit. Go out there, demolish some white boys and move on.”
Malik leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms. “What you think the first couple rounds of the playoffs going to be like? Like Donovan said, we’re gonna be handing out BTAs until the semis.”
“Shit, more like the finals,” Justin said.
Royce fell into silence as they continued to banter with one another. The laughter faded into the background as his thoughts circled back to something that had been on his mind for the last week.
“Yo,” he said, clearing his throat. “Y’all know that nigga Meech?”
The playful energy at the table evaporated in an instant. Malik’s face turned serious, and Donovan’s expression hardened. Justin rubbed at his nose, pretending to ignore what Royce had said.
“Poochie cousin?” Malik asked. “What about him?”
Royce shrugged. “Yeah. Poochie and him ran into me in the Wing Stop last week. I was just wondering if y’all knew him.
Malik nodded, exhaling slowly. “I know him, obviously. That nigga Poochie grew up down the street. Meech would come around. He why Poochie think he can rap. Probably be rapping about what Meech do.”
“Oh, he affiliated?” Royce asked.
“Yeah, he run out a trap over on East Buchanan,” Donovan said, making sure to keep his voice low with the other patrons sitting around them. “He got all kinds of hustles, though. Not just selling dope.”
Justin nodded. “He always trying to be on some American Gangster shit though. Giving the hood turkeys during Thanksgiving and shit like he not pumping that poison into the hood.”
Royce sat back and took in their words. “That’s why Poochie always be on some fuck shit, then. He know his cousin probably already got a few bodies and be itching to add to his resume. Knew he was pussy.”
“Exactly,” Malik said, pointing at Royce to punctuate the word. “Especially now that Poochie can make a little money for him with them fools who be betting on high school football like some whole ass addicts.”
“He throwing games?” Royce asked.
“Nah, nothing like that. Everyone just knows Catholic gonna win every game.”
“He probably ain’t gonna do it to his own people, but I heard he be extorting the fuck out of these motherfuckers out here now that NIL a thing. Kick them a little money on the front end and then come with his hand out when they get to college,” Donovan said.
“Can’t tell him no either. How you gonna go tell the administration at your school you been taking money from a drug dealer and now he threatening to put some foul shit out on you?” Justin shook his head, eating another fry.
“So, that’s what he was trying to do to me,” Royce said.
Malik raised an eyebrow. “He tried to give you some money?”
“Not like that. He just said that he got opportunities for ‘young stars’ in BR.”
Justin let out a low whistle. “Yep, that’s how he get them.”
“But this nigga ain’t like Pablo Esocbar or something. How he gonna touch you if you not at a Louisiana school? If I take some money from him and go to fucking Washington State, that’s nothing to write off as another crazy scammer,” Royce said.
“Man, don’t do that shit,” Malik said. “You a few months from going to college and you at least gonna get a few hundred bucks off some bullshit NIL deal. Ain’t like you really need it with your rich ass brother-in-law.”
“He ain’t rich,” Royce shook his head.
“Nigga, rich enough.”
“I’m with Malik,” Donovan said. “You already know shit foul when someone running around on a street they talk about in rap songs.”
“Make a left on East Buchanan, press the pedal, we in throttle,” Justin said, reciting the lyrics to a Kevin Gates song.
Royce held his hands up. “Y’all right. Y’all right. I was just thinking out loud.”
Donovan and Malik were called up to the counter to get their food and when they arrived, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but Royce’s mind remained miles away.
~~~~~~~~~~
The soft glow of string lights illuminated Rana’s patio, casting warm pools of light on the wooden deck. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers Rana had planted along the fence, and the distance hum of cicadas provided a soundtrack to the night. Royce leaned back in a creaky lawn chair, sipping on a beer while Arianna and Toni sprawled on a wicker loveseat across from him.
“Why you ain’t tell me that you and Reg got into it?” Arianna asked. “I saw that boy the next day by Ma Beulah and both his eyes were blacked.”
Royce shrugged. “I ain’t think it mattered. We used to be fighting all the time. Either us or one of us and Rome. That’s just how brothers are.”
“Your mama still on some foul shit, though,” Toni said, shaking her head.
“Yeah,” Royce said, his tone letting them know that he wasn’t interested in broaching the conversation. He changed the subject to drive home that point. “Man, it’s been wild going to these schools and seeing their facilities and shit.”
Arianna leaned over to Toni. “Now, why is he going to sit here playing in our faces talking about some damn weight rooms? We all know that he was out there fucking on a bunch of white girls trying to get him to commit there.”
“I wasn’t doing that shit,” Royce said, waving his hand dismissively.
“You a damn lie. You ain’t never said no if it’s thrown at you. You a dirty motherfucker,” Arianna laughed.
“It really be your own people,” Royce shook his head, taking a sip from the beer, letting the playful banter fill the silence. But as their laughter died down, the weight of everything crept back in, heavy and unshakeable. He looked at his cousins and decided to steer the conversation somewhere more serious.
“Say,” Royce began, setting his drink down. “Why y’all going to lame ass ULL? Might as well have gone to Nicholls for all that.”
Toni grinned and pulled her oversized hoodie closer. “Well, Deshawn got a football scholarship there. He wanted me to come with him, and honestly, it just made sense. It’s an alright school and it gives me a chance to spread my wings a little bit.”
It wasn’t lost on Royce that Toni’s situation with Deshawn was the opposite of Alix and Malik—or him. Hell, the thought of choosing a landing spot because someone else was going there seemed absurd even to him. One argument that went too far leading to a breakup and you’d be stuck in the same place with them for at least four years.
Royce raised an eyebrow and looked at Arianna. “That don’t explain why you going there.”
“I just figured that I’d roll with my girl out to Lafayette,” Arianna said, shrugging. “That way I know I ain’t gotta live in a random dorm with some random ass girl that I don’t know from Methuselah.”
“Oh, you ain’t got no white boy you running behind out there? Or you just gonna rack them up once you get to campus?” Royce laughed.
“Boy, don’t play with me,” Arianna said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m just saying that you got a type, cuzzo.”
Arianna flipped him off. “I know you ain’t talking. How’s Alix?”
“She does have a point,” Toni added in.
“You motherfuckers already acting like y’all attached at the fucking hip, huh?” Royce finished off his beer and put the bottle on the ground next to the chair. “Me and Alix are just friends and y’all know that.”
“If she’s just your friend, I got a whole list of guys that I just want to be friends with,” Arianna laughed.
Toni leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What about you? Have you figured out where you’re going to college yet? It’s a different decision for you with all these schools offering you free rides.
“Shit, I don’t know,” Royce admitted. “I’m just trying to figure out what school is going to offer me the most money. None of these motherfuckers talking numbers. Shit, most of them ain’t even talking about if I’m going to play or not.”
Adrianna leaned back, her expression softening. “Wasn’t Southern the first school to recruit you? Just go there. It’s close to home and you know they really want you.”
Royce shook his head. “Nah, that’s too small of a school. Dudes on the team getting six figures over four years. That’s what I need. Something that’s really going to set me up since… since I’m on my own on some shit.”
Toni nodded slowly. “We get it. But don’t go somewhere that you’re just a number. It’s bad enough with regular students. It’s really gotta suck when you’re an athlete and no one knows your name.”
“Yeah,” Arianna agreed. “You gotta go somewhere you can shine. You ain’t do all you did to come back to be shit on. Go somewhere they’ll know your worth.”
Royce leaned back, nodding as he let their words sink in. He appreciated their advice, but the doubts lingered. How could anyone see his worth when he wasn’t sure if he saw his own worth?
The night stretched on, filled with more jokes and reminiscing, but Royce’s thoughts raced from place to place. Now, more than ever, he felt the weight of his decisions.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 7876
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Solid two updates. Feels good to be inching closer to college 
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16873
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
1, 2, Breathe
Royce sat across from Sadie at a local restaurant for brunch as he enjoyed a week off from the grind that he’d been going through over the past six months. He wouldn’t have expected that he would’ve been so welcoming to a bye week, but now that he was experiencing one, he knew what it’d be like at the next level.
Sadie nibbled on a piece of toast, her eyes scanning the menu even though they’d already ordered.
“You’re quiet today,” she said, glancing up at him.
Royce leaned back in the booth, twisting discarded straw paper between his fingers. “I told you I’m tired. They running us like dogs out there like we ain’t just blow through everyone on the schedule.”
Sadie arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t y’all lose a game?”
“Oh, you got jokes,” Royce shook his head. “That shit don’t even count. That was at the beginning of the season and we ain’t really hit our stride until we dealt with them niggas at Catholic.”
“There you go saying shit that’s not accurate, again. There aren’t a lot of us at Catholic either. Next, you’re going to tell me that you actually got money to treat me instead of making me pay for my own food.”
Royce bent the top of the menu down, making a show of looking at the prices. “As long as you got something that was on that brunch discount menu, I do got you.”
“I got the steak and eggs,” she said. “It’s thirty.”
“You better go get them shorts out your car then because we’re going to need you to show off that ass for the waiter, so he doesn’t notice that I’m not going to be able to tip him.”
She rolled her eyes but laughed all the same.
The food arrived soon after, and the conversation continued to be light—the two of them talking about the goings on in their lives, classes, Sadie’s narrowing down of where she was planning to go to college.
As had been the norm for their budding relationship, Royce kept the conversation on her to avoid having to lie or answer any difficult questions that might alter the way she viewed him.
Sadie reached for her phone to check a notification, and Royce’s own phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up absentmindedly, expecting something unserious in one of the group chats he was part of. Instead, it was a name he hadn’t seen in a year—Heidi.
’Hey, you. Don’t you live in Baton Rouge?’
Royce’s thumb hovered over the screen as he debated whether or not to answer. He glanced at Sadie, who was preoccupied with her own phone, before typing back a response.
’Yeah, why?’
’I’m at LSU for a tour. You free?’
He didn’t hesitate, remembering the good times he had with Heidi back when he lived in Houma.
’In a couple hours. I’ll send you an addy’
’Perfect’
“Everything good?” Sadie asked, pulling Royce’s attention back.
“Yeah, just Malik clowning about some goofy ass Tyler Perry movie,” he lied, putting his phone back on the table, the screen turned face down. “What you were saying about that party y’all went to on the Avenues?”
…
Royce pulled up outside a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Baton Rouge’s Garden District. The evening air was crisp but comfortable. There was a faint hum of weekend life coming from the areas of the city hidden by rows of trees and old homes. He spotted Heidi sitting outside of the restaurant.
“This the kind of place that you go to out here?” Heidi asked, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder at the restaurant. “You never used to take me anywhere when you lived in Houma, not even to Blake’s.”
Royce laughed as he sat down across from her. “As far I remember, you were the one that could only fuck with me when your man was on the boat. And I done evolved past getting food from gas stations.”
“Evolved?” she laughed. She appraised him with her eyes. “You’re a little taller and got a little muscle on you, but you look the same to me.”
“Oh, that’s why you hit me up? You looking for the same?”
“I don’t know. That depends on if you are.”
He leaned closer. “You still with Jaxon?”
She didn’t answer immediately, the gears turning in her head evident on her face. After a brief pause, she finally said, “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
Royce shook his head, a faint smirk on his face. “It ain’t no problem with me if it ain’t no problem with you. I’m guessing her ain’t here with you looking at any college because he doesn’t seem like the type that can read.”
“I’m here with my mom, but we have different hotel rooms. He paid for mine. It’s just over there,” she said, pointing toward downtown.
“Ain’t no tricks like an oilfield worker, huh?” Royce laughed. In his head, he was thanking whatever, if any, higher being out there for his return to the field and avoiding a life working on a rig being taking advantage of by some girl fucking other men during his hitches.
“Don’t talk about him like that,” she said, her voice teasing. “Do you have a girlfriend? I know they murder people up here and I don’t want to end up on the five o’clock news.”
He thought about Sadie and Alix briefly before shaking his head. “Nah. It’s the four o’clock news though.”
Heidi smiled and leaned over to grab her purse from one of the empty chairs, the action signaling her intentions more than any words could.
…
The hotel room was simple but clean, with white sheets and a view of the New Bridge over the Mississippi. It was clear that Jaxon had shelled out a pretty penny to get Heidi a room in one of the nicer hotels downtown.
Heidi kicked off her shoes as soon as they entered, crossing the room to drop her purse on the desk.
“Damn, that boy got a promotion?” Royce joked as he looked around the room.
Heidi started taking off clothes. “His dad’s settlement check came in. $250,000.”
He crossed the room, helping her with her pants. “You be doing that man dirty as fuck, girl.”
“You’re right there with me.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Jamie walked in front of the corrections officer, being led to his new cell. He’d been transferred to Dixon after his sentence for Romeo’s murder and Royce’s shooting had been handled down. Life without the possibility of parole as a three-time felon.
The prosecutors were willing to push for the death penalty, but he chose to take a plea instead of facing that at trial. With Jeremi’s death, he didn’t need to worry about any additional charges being added to the case.
He kept his head held high, trying to look bold in front of the other inmates. Word had already started to spread that he was in protective custody for previous charges. He’d lost those protections with his new charges.
He knew that he was a marked man either way.
The corrections officer shoved Jamie toward the open cell before turning to continue his circuit around the tier. Jamie sat on his bunk, looking out into the day room, listening to the normal chatter of prisoners without nothing but time on their hands.
He laid down, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all the girls he’d been with, storing them in his memories for the man lonely nights he would face before he expired while still behind bars.
On some level, he did regret what he’d done. A fight that spiraled out of control had already taken two lives and forever altered another pair of them.
And on other, the regret came from the fact that he’d been sloppy in his anger and had gotten caught doing his dirt. It would’ve been easy to catch the twins anywhere else and not have dozens upon dozens of witnesses in one of the most policed areas of Houma.
He closed his eyes and didn’t even see them coming.
Three men rushed into his cell, brandishing toothbrushes and shards of metal sharpened to points. His eyes sprung open and his body reacted before his mind did, jumping up from the bunk and trying to put some distance between them but there was only concrete and pain to choose from.
The jabs were relentless, the sound of skin being punctured filling the cell, blood splattered on the concrete floor.
Jamie screamed out in agony as the assault ended. He fell to the floor, blood beginning to pool beneath him. The men ran out of the cell as alarms began to blare on the tier, inmates being told to get down as guards rushing in.
The last thing Jamie heard was the sound of boots pounding against the floor, running toward his cell.
Royce sat across from Sadie at a local restaurant for brunch as he enjoyed a week off from the grind that he’d been going through over the past six months. He wouldn’t have expected that he would’ve been so welcoming to a bye week, but now that he was experiencing one, he knew what it’d be like at the next level.
Sadie nibbled on a piece of toast, her eyes scanning the menu even though they’d already ordered.
“You’re quiet today,” she said, glancing up at him.
Royce leaned back in the booth, twisting discarded straw paper between his fingers. “I told you I’m tired. They running us like dogs out there like we ain’t just blow through everyone on the schedule.”
Sadie arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t y’all lose a game?”
“Oh, you got jokes,” Royce shook his head. “That shit don’t even count. That was at the beginning of the season and we ain’t really hit our stride until we dealt with them niggas at Catholic.”
“There you go saying shit that’s not accurate, again. There aren’t a lot of us at Catholic either. Next, you’re going to tell me that you actually got money to treat me instead of making me pay for my own food.”
Royce bent the top of the menu down, making a show of looking at the prices. “As long as you got something that was on that brunch discount menu, I do got you.”
“I got the steak and eggs,” she said. “It’s thirty.”
“You better go get them shorts out your car then because we’re going to need you to show off that ass for the waiter, so he doesn’t notice that I’m not going to be able to tip him.”
She rolled her eyes but laughed all the same.
The food arrived soon after, and the conversation continued to be light—the two of them talking about the goings on in their lives, classes, Sadie’s narrowing down of where she was planning to go to college.
As had been the norm for their budding relationship, Royce kept the conversation on her to avoid having to lie or answer any difficult questions that might alter the way she viewed him.
Sadie reached for her phone to check a notification, and Royce’s own phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up absentmindedly, expecting something unserious in one of the group chats he was part of. Instead, it was a name he hadn’t seen in a year—Heidi.
’Hey, you. Don’t you live in Baton Rouge?’
Royce’s thumb hovered over the screen as he debated whether or not to answer. He glanced at Sadie, who was preoccupied with her own phone, before typing back a response.
’Yeah, why?’
’I’m at LSU for a tour. You free?’
He didn’t hesitate, remembering the good times he had with Heidi back when he lived in Houma.
’In a couple hours. I’ll send you an addy’
’Perfect’
“Everything good?” Sadie asked, pulling Royce’s attention back.
“Yeah, just Malik clowning about some goofy ass Tyler Perry movie,” he lied, putting his phone back on the table, the screen turned face down. “What you were saying about that party y’all went to on the Avenues?”
…
Royce pulled up outside a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Baton Rouge’s Garden District. The evening air was crisp but comfortable. There was a faint hum of weekend life coming from the areas of the city hidden by rows of trees and old homes. He spotted Heidi sitting outside of the restaurant.
“This the kind of place that you go to out here?” Heidi asked, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder at the restaurant. “You never used to take me anywhere when you lived in Houma, not even to Blake’s.”
Royce laughed as he sat down across from her. “As far I remember, you were the one that could only fuck with me when your man was on the boat. And I done evolved past getting food from gas stations.”
“Evolved?” she laughed. She appraised him with her eyes. “You’re a little taller and got a little muscle on you, but you look the same to me.”
“Oh, that’s why you hit me up? You looking for the same?”
“I don’t know. That depends on if you are.”
He leaned closer. “You still with Jaxon?”
She didn’t answer immediately, the gears turning in her head evident on her face. After a brief pause, she finally said, “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
Royce shook his head, a faint smirk on his face. “It ain’t no problem with me if it ain’t no problem with you. I’m guessing her ain’t here with you looking at any college because he doesn’t seem like the type that can read.”
“I’m here with my mom, but we have different hotel rooms. He paid for mine. It’s just over there,” she said, pointing toward downtown.
“Ain’t no tricks like an oilfield worker, huh?” Royce laughed. In his head, he was thanking whatever, if any, higher being out there for his return to the field and avoiding a life working on a rig being taking advantage of by some girl fucking other men during his hitches.
“Don’t talk about him like that,” she said, her voice teasing. “Do you have a girlfriend? I know they murder people up here and I don’t want to end up on the five o’clock news.”
He thought about Sadie and Alix briefly before shaking his head. “Nah. It’s the four o’clock news though.”
Heidi smiled and leaned over to grab her purse from one of the empty chairs, the action signaling her intentions more than any words could.
…
The hotel room was simple but clean, with white sheets and a view of the New Bridge over the Mississippi. It was clear that Jaxon had shelled out a pretty penny to get Heidi a room in one of the nicer hotels downtown.
Heidi kicked off her shoes as soon as they entered, crossing the room to drop her purse on the desk.
“Damn, that boy got a promotion?” Royce joked as he looked around the room.
Heidi started taking off clothes. “His dad’s settlement check came in. $250,000.”
He crossed the room, helping her with her pants. “You be doing that man dirty as fuck, girl.”
“You’re right there with me.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Jamie walked in front of the corrections officer, being led to his new cell. He’d been transferred to Dixon after his sentence for Romeo’s murder and Royce’s shooting had been handled down. Life without the possibility of parole as a three-time felon.
The prosecutors were willing to push for the death penalty, but he chose to take a plea instead of facing that at trial. With Jeremi’s death, he didn’t need to worry about any additional charges being added to the case.
He kept his head held high, trying to look bold in front of the other inmates. Word had already started to spread that he was in protective custody for previous charges. He’d lost those protections with his new charges.
He knew that he was a marked man either way.
The corrections officer shoved Jamie toward the open cell before turning to continue his circuit around the tier. Jamie sat on his bunk, looking out into the day room, listening to the normal chatter of prisoners without nothing but time on their hands.
He laid down, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all the girls he’d been with, storing them in his memories for the man lonely nights he would face before he expired while still behind bars.
On some level, he did regret what he’d done. A fight that spiraled out of control had already taken two lives and forever altered another pair of them.
And on other, the regret came from the fact that he’d been sloppy in his anger and had gotten caught doing his dirt. It would’ve been easy to catch the twins anywhere else and not have dozens upon dozens of witnesses in one of the most policed areas of Houma.
He closed his eyes and didn’t even see them coming.
Three men rushed into his cell, brandishing toothbrushes and shards of metal sharpened to points. His eyes sprung open and his body reacted before his mind did, jumping up from the bunk and trying to put some distance between them but there was only concrete and pain to choose from.
The jabs were relentless, the sound of skin being punctured filling the cell, blood splattered on the concrete floor.
Jamie screamed out in agony as the assault ended. He fell to the floor, blood beginning to pool beneath him. The men ran out of the cell as alarms began to blare on the tier, inmates being told to get down as guards rushing in.
The last thing Jamie heard was the sound of boots pounding against the floor, running toward his cell.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 7876
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Goddamn, Kevon really was not playing about his sons 
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16873
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
