not much to add on the Alessa front but I bet Erik says screw you "dad" im staying for my senior year. icing on the cake is that both jenkins and devin sign with a different agent other than deion. and boom goes the dynamite.
War of the Roses | A Tale of Two Families
- Thread starter BlackCaesar-THSLA
- Start date
We're talking about Devin here. The man moves slowly in social matters.
Futebol! It was inevitable. What kind of self-respecting Brazilian doesn't watch soccer? That's blasphemous.
Whatchutalkinboutwillis? Erik might stay for his senior year and sign with another agent as a middle finger to dear old dad but can the same be said about his brother? And we all know that Devin was never going to be a Deion Jenkins client. Stop talking craziness.
Cessation of Hostilities
"No! Don- No- K… fuck!"
Caesar fell to the floor in a heap, the blanket from the bed still twisted around him. With heavy breaths he looked up and saw that Sophie was still sound asleep. As he closed his eyes and started getting control of his body again, he ripped the blanket off him and threw it across the room.
Fuck people. And fuck dreams.
"I don't need 'em," Caesar muttered. "Fuck them."
The sound of a door closing outside caused Caesar’s eyes to widen in panic. He could feel his heart rate quicken as his hands gripped the carpet as if someone was attempting to rip his first born from his hands. Sweat began to form on his forehead and his breathing became rapid and shallow. After a few moments which seemed to stretch for an eternity, he was finally able to tell himself that he was awake and not reliving the events his mind had conjured up only minutes ago.
He’d be ashamed to admit that the sound of a door closing just as he, a grown man, stirred from sleep could send him into a panic attack. However, it was an all too familiar sound from his dreams… or rather nightmares.
Dragging himself up from the floor, he ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. He stared at the place on the bed he’d vacated in his abrupt awakening. Sleep was getting harder and harder to come by in recent weeks so he knew getting back into that bed and attempting to get some shut eye would be near impossible.
He looked up at the ceiling and sent his daily string of curses to whoever was pulling the strings of life. All he wanted was to get through one damn night without waking up in a cold sweat.
Shaking his head, he left the room in search of something to bide his time until the sun came up. Even as he walked through the dark house, he could feel his eyes beginning to feel heavy once more but the thought of going through another round of nightmares scared him awake.
There were ways of blanking his mind in order to get a good night’s sleep namely alcohol or sleeping pills but he was trying to make a concerted effort to not turn to either of those options. Doctor’s orders of course. Instead, he’d opt for drinking water until he was tired of filling glasses.
The morning’s first glass was halfway full when he heard the front door open. He didn’t need to spare a glance over his shoulder to know who it was.
“Late night or early morning?”
Caesar shut the water off and turned around to face Kaley. She always seemed to come home early in the morning when he was there, returning from work or a late go of studying. She kept worse hours than he did. Not knowing how to answer her question without giving too much away, he brought the cup to his lips and drank like a man who’d just spent a few weeks in the desert.
“Parched, wide awake and all sweaty? Sophie must be getting better,” Kaley said, her tone only slightly teasing, as she stepped around him to get to the fridge.
He turned back to the faucet to refill the glass. He shrugged determined to avoid the truth, “It’s expected after two years of practice.”
He heard her scoff as he left the kitchen, looking to watch the news in hopes that it would lull him to sleep. Tucking one of the sofa pillows under his head, he was about to stretch out on the couch until Kaley knocked his feet to the floor and sat next to him.
“Uh, you mind?” Caesar asked, his eyes flicking from his feet to where Kaley was now sitting, “Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”
She shook her head, “It’s Friday. I don’t have class in the morning. I could ask you the same thing. You have a game in a couple days.”
“I am trying to go to sleep.”
“Here? On the sofa?”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? You left a perfectly fine bed to sleep on a sofa that you barely fit on?”
“No one’s asking you to believe anything.”
“The walls in here aren’t that thick, you know? I can hear you talking in your sleep, tossing and turning, walking around the house all hours of the night. Maybe, Sophie’s a heavy sleeper. Maybe, she just ignores it or doesn’t feel it’s her place to say anything about it. But before you try to convince me that you are up for a glass of water and a move to this lumpy couch, remember who you are talking to.”
Knowing she was right, Caesar gave her the only safe response he could think of – silence.
He could see her sneaking glances at him as they settled into a rather awkward silence. He imagined she had more questions to ask him but also knew that she was choosing not to ask them because he wouldn’t be forthcoming.
Just as he was about to give up on the news, an alert flashed across the screen and caught his attention. Kaley must have noticed his piqued interest as she sat a little straighter and seemed more awake.
He couldn’t help the sneer that appeared on his face as he watched the President converse with what looked like one of his aides before taking his place behind the podium in the White House Briefing Room.
Caesar wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d never voted and knew nothing of politics before Ron decided to join the Marines. Now, he knew a good bit about President Braxton Stanton. The former Texas governor was a couple years into his first term which had been defined by the “police action in Korea” he’d readily called for. In Caesar’s mind, it wasn’t irrational that he also blamed the war hawk Commander-in-Chief for Ron’s death.
Nonetheless, he upped the volume. Something serious had to happen for the President to make a statement at a little past three in the morning.
“…my fellow Americans, major combat operations in North Korea have ended. Only minutes ago, North Korean forces laid down their arms and our South Korean allies have accepted their unconditional surrender. Thanks to the valor and courage of our young men and women, the Korean peninsula will finally know the peace that it has sought for almost one hundred years…”
Having heard enough, Caesar turned the TV off and stared blankly at the now dark screen.
“Caesar?” Kaley called after a few minutes of silence. She leaned forward so she could look at his face before calling his name again. It took three more attempts and a few nudges before he finally turned to face her, “You don’t seem too happy about the war ending. Ron’s going to be coming home now.”
He almost laughed at how ridiculous that statement sounded but he remembered that Kaley didn’t know Ron was killed in Korea, “Ron’s dead.”
“What?”
“Ron. Is. Dead. He was killed a little more than a year ago.”
“Caesar, I…”
She racked her mind trying to recall everytime she’d seen Caesar in the last year. His emotions could only be described as explosive and that was with things that didn’t bother most people. Surely, he would have taken the news of Ron’s death poorly.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d seen him the day he must have found out.
“Why didn’t you—“
He raised his hand to cut her off, “I don’t want to talk about it, Kaley,” Little did she know, he felt like he was going through the process of hearing that his best friend had died thousands of miles away from his loved ones fighting for someone else’s homeland all over again.
Kaley didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry” didn’t help anyone in situations such as these especially a year after the fact. She wasn’t as close to him as Caesar was but she still considered Ron a friend. She had met Caesar and Ron at the same time and although his loyalty was to Caesar first, he still accepted her as good enough for his friend enough to give the occasional push in the right direction in their relationship. And now with him gone, Kaley suddenly found the need to become that push herself. Even if he didn't want to talk about it, Kaley knew enough from her own experiences and common sense that it would be healthy to talk about Ron and his death as a way to cope with it and slowly move on.
“You remember when we all met? Who knew running from a hurricane could bring such good memories?”
“Good memories? Hurricanes? That doesn’t go together. Hurricanes just fuck shit up and move on,” Caesar said with a bit of a pitiful laugh, smacking the remote off the arm rest to emphasize his point.
“You know what I mean, Caesar. If it wasn’t—“
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, “You think I don’t know what you are trying to do?”
“I’m just trying to—“
He stood up from the couch, visibly angry, “I told you don’t want to fucking talk about it so leave it the fuck alone.”
“I don’t know why you are getting mad at me. I’m trying to help you.”
“No, you don’t get to fucking help me. You weren’t there for me when it happened and you can’t be here for me now. So, leave it fucking be,” he opened his mouth to continue but thought better of it and decided to leave the conversation at that. Waving her off, he went back to Sophie’s room to attempt sleep once more.
Kaley winced when she heard the door slam. He was right, though.
She wasn’t there for him when Ron died but that was because she’d chosen not to subject herself to the roller coaster of emotions he went through in the span of a few minutes. She was trying her damnedest to be there for him now, but maybe that was stopping her from being fair to herself. Maybe Caesar was a lost cause and she needed to cut bait before he dragged her down again.
It was inevitable at this rate.
Caesar wasn’t the only one awake early enough to catch the President’s declaration of victory in Korea. Somewhere in the backwoods of Pennsylvania, Julie had been in the process of attempting to get Ronnie to go back to sleep when the news broke.
She largely ignored the news until Ronnie fell into a fitful sleep and she was able to put him back into his crib. It was a strange feeling to know that the war had ended as abruptly as it had started. That didn’t mean that she would no longer be haunted by things she’d saw on the Korean Peninsula, the things she’d done.
From time to time, she’d hate that she held her son with her hands. Hands that seemed tailor made for holding a rifle, hands that had taken many other sons from their mothers. There would always be blood on her hands and she didn’t want to corrupt her son’s innocence.
It would be something she’d struggle with for the rest of her life and no declaration of surrender could change that.
“Julie?”
The former soldier turned towards the sound of her mother’s voice, “Yeah, ma?”
“Is something wrong, honey? I heard you walking around up here.”
“The war is over,” she said with a shrug, her voice eerily calm despite the thoughts still bouncing around in her mind. She hadn’t even known she’d begun to pace around the room.
“Really? That’s good. We don’t need to lose…,” the older woman trailed off as her eyes drifted to her grandson now fast asleep in his crib. She tended to tip toe around the topic of death when around Julie, not knowing how to relate to what her daughter had been through.
Julie raised an accusing eyebrow, knowing that her mother still refused to fully acknowledge that she’d had a child for a man who’d been killed overseas leaving her single with child. Sandra Pitt was a conservative woman who believed children should have two parents, a man and a woman. That notion was why Julie wasn’t shocked by the long line of men who would “make great husbands and better fathers” her mom had tried to shackle to as if they had been transported back to the 1800s.
“It means there will be an endless line of unattached men coming home.”
“Julie, it’s—“
“I was only joking, mother,” she walked over to the rocking chair in the corner and sat down with a huff. Despite it being the wee hours of the morning, she decided to take advantage of her mother being awake and seek out some advice, “I just want to know what am I supposed to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know where I go from here. I thought I had everything mapped out when I enlisted and we see how that turned out. That aside, I’m eligible for reenlistment but now there is no enemy to fight. I wasn’t good in school so going to college isn’t an option.”
“What’s wrong with just being a good mother?”
Julie knew that question would have come with a sharp rise in volume had it not been early in the morning with a sleeping baby in the room, “Nothing is wrong with being a good mother. Of course, I want to give Ronnie the world but I’m not Susie Homemaker. I wouldn’t be happy in a kitchen with an apron on, baking cookies.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes, I know. You always wanted to be as different from Lindsey as possible. She found her husband in a bookstore, you found a man while being shot at. I think that says it all.”
“In my defense, we weren’t being shot at when… you know…”
“Clearly,” Mrs. Pitt laughed, “What I’m saying is I wish you would be more like your sister and settle down with a nice guy but I’m not stupid either. I want you to have a life like Lindsey’s because you have gone through so much already in your life and I think you can do with someone else taking care of you for a few years but I know you would never go for that.”
“Not wanting to be a kept woman isn’t that bad of a thing, is it?”
“No but I can tell you aren’t happy here.”
“Mom, I…”
“Don’t try to convince me. You jumped at the chance to enlist so quickly because you’ve never been happy living here.”
“High school wasn’t great.”
“I know, sweetie. You know what I think you should do? Go back to Louisiana so that sweet little boy can meet his other grandparents. I’m sure they’ll be dying to meet him.”
“After you demanded I come back here? What if I don’t come back?”
“Well, I know you’ll be happier there than here,” Mrs. Pitt smiled, “Besides, I always wanted to try real Cajun food.”
Julie nodded as she mulled the option in her head. The DeRossis did deserve to meet their grandson. She’d spoken to Mrs. DeRossi only a few times in the past handful of months because the woman seemed so busy but it was the least she could do. And with everything she’d seen on TV, Caesar could use some sort of “pick-me-up” as well. Maybe seeing Ronnie would do him some good as well.
Maybe it would do them both some good.
"No! Don- No- K… fuck!"
Caesar fell to the floor in a heap, the blanket from the bed still twisted around him. With heavy breaths he looked up and saw that Sophie was still sound asleep. As he closed his eyes and started getting control of his body again, he ripped the blanket off him and threw it across the room.
Fuck people. And fuck dreams.
"I don't need 'em," Caesar muttered. "Fuck them."
The sound of a door closing outside caused Caesar’s eyes to widen in panic. He could feel his heart rate quicken as his hands gripped the carpet as if someone was attempting to rip his first born from his hands. Sweat began to form on his forehead and his breathing became rapid and shallow. After a few moments which seemed to stretch for an eternity, he was finally able to tell himself that he was awake and not reliving the events his mind had conjured up only minutes ago.
He’d be ashamed to admit that the sound of a door closing just as he, a grown man, stirred from sleep could send him into a panic attack. However, it was an all too familiar sound from his dreams… or rather nightmares.
Dragging himself up from the floor, he ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. He stared at the place on the bed he’d vacated in his abrupt awakening. Sleep was getting harder and harder to come by in recent weeks so he knew getting back into that bed and attempting to get some shut eye would be near impossible.
He looked up at the ceiling and sent his daily string of curses to whoever was pulling the strings of life. All he wanted was to get through one damn night without waking up in a cold sweat.
Shaking his head, he left the room in search of something to bide his time until the sun came up. Even as he walked through the dark house, he could feel his eyes beginning to feel heavy once more but the thought of going through another round of nightmares scared him awake.
There were ways of blanking his mind in order to get a good night’s sleep namely alcohol or sleeping pills but he was trying to make a concerted effort to not turn to either of those options. Doctor’s orders of course. Instead, he’d opt for drinking water until he was tired of filling glasses.
The morning’s first glass was halfway full when he heard the front door open. He didn’t need to spare a glance over his shoulder to know who it was.
“Late night or early morning?”
Caesar shut the water off and turned around to face Kaley. She always seemed to come home early in the morning when he was there, returning from work or a late go of studying. She kept worse hours than he did. Not knowing how to answer her question without giving too much away, he brought the cup to his lips and drank like a man who’d just spent a few weeks in the desert.
“Parched, wide awake and all sweaty? Sophie must be getting better,” Kaley said, her tone only slightly teasing, as she stepped around him to get to the fridge.
He turned back to the faucet to refill the glass. He shrugged determined to avoid the truth, “It’s expected after two years of practice.”
He heard her scoff as he left the kitchen, looking to watch the news in hopes that it would lull him to sleep. Tucking one of the sofa pillows under his head, he was about to stretch out on the couch until Kaley knocked his feet to the floor and sat next to him.
“Uh, you mind?” Caesar asked, his eyes flicking from his feet to where Kaley was now sitting, “Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”
She shook her head, “It’s Friday. I don’t have class in the morning. I could ask you the same thing. You have a game in a couple days.”
“I am trying to go to sleep.”
“Here? On the sofa?”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? You left a perfectly fine bed to sleep on a sofa that you barely fit on?”
“No one’s asking you to believe anything.”
“The walls in here aren’t that thick, you know? I can hear you talking in your sleep, tossing and turning, walking around the house all hours of the night. Maybe, Sophie’s a heavy sleeper. Maybe, she just ignores it or doesn’t feel it’s her place to say anything about it. But before you try to convince me that you are up for a glass of water and a move to this lumpy couch, remember who you are talking to.”
Knowing she was right, Caesar gave her the only safe response he could think of – silence.
He could see her sneaking glances at him as they settled into a rather awkward silence. He imagined she had more questions to ask him but also knew that she was choosing not to ask them because he wouldn’t be forthcoming.
Just as he was about to give up on the news, an alert flashed across the screen and caught his attention. Kaley must have noticed his piqued interest as she sat a little straighter and seemed more awake.
He couldn’t help the sneer that appeared on his face as he watched the President converse with what looked like one of his aides before taking his place behind the podium in the White House Briefing Room.
Caesar wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d never voted and knew nothing of politics before Ron decided to join the Marines. Now, he knew a good bit about President Braxton Stanton. The former Texas governor was a couple years into his first term which had been defined by the “police action in Korea” he’d readily called for. In Caesar’s mind, it wasn’t irrational that he also blamed the war hawk Commander-in-Chief for Ron’s death.
Nonetheless, he upped the volume. Something serious had to happen for the President to make a statement at a little past three in the morning.
“…my fellow Americans, major combat operations in North Korea have ended. Only minutes ago, North Korean forces laid down their arms and our South Korean allies have accepted their unconditional surrender. Thanks to the valor and courage of our young men and women, the Korean peninsula will finally know the peace that it has sought for almost one hundred years…”
Having heard enough, Caesar turned the TV off and stared blankly at the now dark screen.
“Caesar?” Kaley called after a few minutes of silence. She leaned forward so she could look at his face before calling his name again. It took three more attempts and a few nudges before he finally turned to face her, “You don’t seem too happy about the war ending. Ron’s going to be coming home now.”
He almost laughed at how ridiculous that statement sounded but he remembered that Kaley didn’t know Ron was killed in Korea, “Ron’s dead.”
“What?”
“Ron. Is. Dead. He was killed a little more than a year ago.”
“Caesar, I…”
She racked her mind trying to recall everytime she’d seen Caesar in the last year. His emotions could only be described as explosive and that was with things that didn’t bother most people. Surely, he would have taken the news of Ron’s death poorly.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d seen him the day he must have found out.
“Why didn’t you—“
He raised his hand to cut her off, “I don’t want to talk about it, Kaley,” Little did she know, he felt like he was going through the process of hearing that his best friend had died thousands of miles away from his loved ones fighting for someone else’s homeland all over again.
Kaley didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry” didn’t help anyone in situations such as these especially a year after the fact. She wasn’t as close to him as Caesar was but she still considered Ron a friend. She had met Caesar and Ron at the same time and although his loyalty was to Caesar first, he still accepted her as good enough for his friend enough to give the occasional push in the right direction in their relationship. And now with him gone, Kaley suddenly found the need to become that push herself. Even if he didn't want to talk about it, Kaley knew enough from her own experiences and common sense that it would be healthy to talk about Ron and his death as a way to cope with it and slowly move on.
“You remember when we all met? Who knew running from a hurricane could bring such good memories?”
“Good memories? Hurricanes? That doesn’t go together. Hurricanes just fuck shit up and move on,” Caesar said with a bit of a pitiful laugh, smacking the remote off the arm rest to emphasize his point.
“You know what I mean, Caesar. If it wasn’t—“
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, “You think I don’t know what you are trying to do?”
“I’m just trying to—“
He stood up from the couch, visibly angry, “I told you don’t want to fucking talk about it so leave it the fuck alone.”
“I don’t know why you are getting mad at me. I’m trying to help you.”
“No, you don’t get to fucking help me. You weren’t there for me when it happened and you can’t be here for me now. So, leave it fucking be,” he opened his mouth to continue but thought better of it and decided to leave the conversation at that. Waving her off, he went back to Sophie’s room to attempt sleep once more.
Kaley winced when she heard the door slam. He was right, though.
She wasn’t there for him when Ron died but that was because she’d chosen not to subject herself to the roller coaster of emotions he went through in the span of a few minutes. She was trying her damnedest to be there for him now, but maybe that was stopping her from being fair to herself. Maybe Caesar was a lost cause and she needed to cut bait before he dragged her down again.
It was inevitable at this rate.
Caesar wasn’t the only one awake early enough to catch the President’s declaration of victory in Korea. Somewhere in the backwoods of Pennsylvania, Julie had been in the process of attempting to get Ronnie to go back to sleep when the news broke.
She largely ignored the news until Ronnie fell into a fitful sleep and she was able to put him back into his crib. It was a strange feeling to know that the war had ended as abruptly as it had started. That didn’t mean that she would no longer be haunted by things she’d saw on the Korean Peninsula, the things she’d done.
From time to time, she’d hate that she held her son with her hands. Hands that seemed tailor made for holding a rifle, hands that had taken many other sons from their mothers. There would always be blood on her hands and she didn’t want to corrupt her son’s innocence.
It would be something she’d struggle with for the rest of her life and no declaration of surrender could change that.
“Julie?”
The former soldier turned towards the sound of her mother’s voice, “Yeah, ma?”
“Is something wrong, honey? I heard you walking around up here.”
“The war is over,” she said with a shrug, her voice eerily calm despite the thoughts still bouncing around in her mind. She hadn’t even known she’d begun to pace around the room.
“Really? That’s good. We don’t need to lose…,” the older woman trailed off as her eyes drifted to her grandson now fast asleep in his crib. She tended to tip toe around the topic of death when around Julie, not knowing how to relate to what her daughter had been through.
Julie raised an accusing eyebrow, knowing that her mother still refused to fully acknowledge that she’d had a child for a man who’d been killed overseas leaving her single with child. Sandra Pitt was a conservative woman who believed children should have two parents, a man and a woman. That notion was why Julie wasn’t shocked by the long line of men who would “make great husbands and better fathers” her mom had tried to shackle to as if they had been transported back to the 1800s.
“It means there will be an endless line of unattached men coming home.”
“Julie, it’s—“
“I was only joking, mother,” she walked over to the rocking chair in the corner and sat down with a huff. Despite it being the wee hours of the morning, she decided to take advantage of her mother being awake and seek out some advice, “I just want to know what am I supposed to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know where I go from here. I thought I had everything mapped out when I enlisted and we see how that turned out. That aside, I’m eligible for reenlistment but now there is no enemy to fight. I wasn’t good in school so going to college isn’t an option.”
“What’s wrong with just being a good mother?”
Julie knew that question would have come with a sharp rise in volume had it not been early in the morning with a sleeping baby in the room, “Nothing is wrong with being a good mother. Of course, I want to give Ronnie the world but I’m not Susie Homemaker. I wouldn’t be happy in a kitchen with an apron on, baking cookies.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes, I know. You always wanted to be as different from Lindsey as possible. She found her husband in a bookstore, you found a man while being shot at. I think that says it all.”
“In my defense, we weren’t being shot at when… you know…”
“Clearly,” Mrs. Pitt laughed, “What I’m saying is I wish you would be more like your sister and settle down with a nice guy but I’m not stupid either. I want you to have a life like Lindsey’s because you have gone through so much already in your life and I think you can do with someone else taking care of you for a few years but I know you would never go for that.”
“Not wanting to be a kept woman isn’t that bad of a thing, is it?”
“No but I can tell you aren’t happy here.”
“Mom, I…”
“Don’t try to convince me. You jumped at the chance to enlist so quickly because you’ve never been happy living here.”
“High school wasn’t great.”
“I know, sweetie. You know what I think you should do? Go back to Louisiana so that sweet little boy can meet his other grandparents. I’m sure they’ll be dying to meet him.”
“After you demanded I come back here? What if I don’t come back?”
“Well, I know you’ll be happier there than here,” Mrs. Pitt smiled, “Besides, I always wanted to try real Cajun food.”
Julie nodded as she mulled the option in her head. The DeRossis did deserve to meet their grandson. She’d spoken to Mrs. DeRossi only a few times in the past handful of months because the woman seemed so busy but it was the least she could do. And with everything she’d seen on TV, Caesar could use some sort of “pick-me-up” as well. Maybe seeing Ronnie would do him some good as well.
Maybe it would do them both some good.
caesar going through some tony stark shit right now (iron man 3) and looking like kaley wont be around again to try and stable him. so, you know, thatll cause some issues... and whether or not julie/ronnie will be beneficial for caesar is up in the air. time shall tell
Chugging Along
“It looks like Florida is trying to set up another screen pass. Ashton Riley fires it out to his halfback behind the big wall of linemen in the flat. Devin King is coming back to attempt to make a play but Tre’Davious Hillman lays a huge block on the Heisman hopeful! Mike Stahl is finally pulled down by Champ Murray at the Green Wave forty-two after a gain of seventeen.”
“That’s an example of a cornerback’s worst nightmare right there. A big offensive lineman getting to the outside and laying a crushing hit on him, and King’s not that small of a corner, but that’s something that Florida has been doing all game to take King out of the game and keep the score close at 10-7 here in the third quarter. After two losses with former quarterback DeMarius Owens under center, the Gators are doing a good job of keeping his true freshman replacement’s confidence up by not testing his luck against King.”
“We’ll have to see if Rock Hall finally manages to figure out how to get his star defender to make a bigger impact on this game.”
…
Devin took a moment to lie on the field and contemplate his life. He felt like he’d just been hit by a Mack truck – again. His mind decided to replay the moments of the last monstrous block a few more times. He’d seen Hillman coming but he couldn’t do anything to get out of the way in time and the 350 pound guard threw all his weight into trying to de-cleat him.
He was actually surprised that his feet stayed relatively close to the ground.
It was actually a sound plan. He couldn’t make an impact on the game if all they were throwing was slip screens and comebacks to the opposite side of the field. They were even running the ball to whichever side of the field he wasn’t on.
Smacking the field in anger, he rolled to his feet. Devin was determined to force them to use the entire field. He refused to lose to a team that was willing to pussy-foot their way to enough points to get the win.
…
“The Gators are back at the line of scrimmage. One back in the backfield behind Riley with three receivers split out wide. Tulane is showing blitz.”
“That’s going to keep Florida from throwing those screens but as they’ve been doing this entire game, they are just going to test Bobby Chambers over there on the right side of the field or Wayne Bale in the nickel spot.”
“Riley gets the ball from center and drops back. He looks to the right but Chambers did a good job of jamming his man at the line. Everyone’s covered except Mark Bilas over on the left but King’s trailing behind him. Riley hesitates and that gives Clint Bingham just enough time to bring him down in the backfield for the sack.”
“King was playing a dangerous game with the decision to not bump Bilas at the line. Without Murray and Adrian Taylor playing deep to stop the long pass, that could have easily turned into a touchdown but that’s the cat and mouse game that quarterbacks and cornerbacks play. Devin King’s a seasoned player and probably knows a little more about baiting quarterbacks than the freshman Ashton Riley knows about making quick changes on the field.”
“Of course, that Tulane education probably has something to do with that.”
“It definitely doesn’t hurt.”
“Second and fourteen for Florida here and they are in the shotgun. Riley with three receivers to his left and one to his right. Tulane’s corners are close to the line again. Riley takes the snap and looks to the left, nothing doing. He has Bilas again on the right. Turns and fires. It’s going to be a tight fit with Bilas between King and the sideline… and it’s picked off!”
…
Devin bobbled the ball as he caught it but quickly secured it under his arm and made sure that he came down inbounds. He shoved a flailing Bilas away from him and spun around to try and make some type of return on the pick.
Being so close to the sideline put him in a precarious position as the offensive players stormed towards him yet he still managed to toe the white chalk and advance the ball a few yards. Ducking under the outstretched arms of one of Florida’s offensive lineman, he cut towards the middle of the field and was immediately forced to throw on the brakes to dodge another flying Gator.
If there was one thing he’d learned this season, it was offensive players were undisciplined when it came to corralling players. His previous disadvantage of being fenced in by the sideline turned into a Godsend when he noticed that the other side of the field was completely void of white jerseys.
Wanting to make the most of the return, he turned on the speed and headed for the daylight. Ashton Riley lunged at his feet in a last attempt to bring him down but he hurdled over the freshman’s outstretched arms and was off to the races.
…
“He’s at the 30, the 20, the 10. Touchdown Green Wave! Wow! They need to put this guy on offense because Devin King has a nose for the endzone!”
“It’s lightening in a bottle, Jim. He gambled on the freshman making a mistake and showed a bit of that SEC speed on the return. It’s because of plays like that that Devin King should probably go home and book his flight to New York in a few months because this kid is something special.”
“And just listen to the crowd! They absolutely love him here!”
“I’d love him if he was on my team, too. You never hear about him getting into any foolishness off the field then he gets on the field and does that. Whatever NFL team gets him should consider themselves very lucky.”
“The question is when will a NFL team be able to draft him.”
“For the sake of college football, I hope it’s in two years.”
…
Caesar never thought he’d get a headache sitting on the sideline but he knew he’d be feeling a full blown migraine soon if the crowd continued to chant Devin’s name.
He couldn’t believe that it was very likely that he would end his college career and be considered second to fucking Devin King in terms of what they did at Tulane. Outside of their freshman year, he’d been outdone by his longtime rival. Caesar could only blame himself for struggling through his sophomore season but he’d blame one, Brady Rodgers, for having only having an average increase – in his mind, at least -- over the numbers of that down year.
He needed the freshman quarterback to look his way a little more. He needed a Biletnikoff. He needed to be named first team All-American. And, God damn it, he needed to be considered for the Heisman if they were thinking about a cornerback being a finalist.
The receiver caught Brady, fresh off receiving a few quick adjustments from the coaching staff, “I need the ball, Rodgers. You need to throw me the ball more.”
“I can’t throw you the ball if you aren’t open.”
“No, you can and you will. You should be good enough to fit the ball through tight coverage, right? Well, I’m good enough to make sure I catch the ball. How about this? Why don’t you just trust me on this one?”
“Caesar, you have barely been open all game. That’s why we’ve only scored ten points before Devin ran back that pick. I think I’ve been playing quarterback long enough to know when to pick my battles with good coverage and Bryant is sticking to you like white on rice. And I think it goes without saying that I have no reason to trust you.”
“Alright, whatever. I’m going to go out there and get open. You pass me the fucking ball. Make sure you get me my fucking touchdown.”
…
“Tulane’s offense takes the field and you have to think that they have the momentum now after their defense followed up that Devin King interception return with a quick three-and-out.”
“This is their chance to put the nail in the coffin and get out of here with the win. As it stands, Florida is back in with a shout if they score a touchdown but if the Green Wave can punch it into the endzone themselves the Gators are going to be facing a lead much too big for them to surmount considering they’d be forced to put the ball into the air.”
“First and ten from their own thirty-six yard line. Brady Rodgers is back in the shotgun with Desmond Smith to his left. Caesar Jenkins, Jason Williams and Raphael Jefferson split out wide. Rodgers takes the snap. The protection is good and the freshman has time to go through his reads. Fires it out to Williams and he’s brought down immediately for a gain of 10 on the play.”
“Jason Williams has been a God send for the Green Wave over the past two seasons. Living up to his billing as one of the top receivers in the country coming out of high school a couple years ago.”
“Another top recruit, Caesar Jenkins, seems to be having some creative differences with his quarterback as Tulane rushes back to the line in their normal no-huddle fashion.”
“Those Jenkins are some fiery guys. I played a couple seasons with Deion Jenkins with Oklahoma City and he didn’t take no for an answer. From what I’ve seen of Caesar over the past three years, it’s been passed down. I’m sure he wants the ball every play.”
“First down again for the Green Wave. Three receivers still out on the field. The ball’s snapped quickly and Rodgers has time to go through his options again. He finds Jenkins in between the safeties and the receiver jukes between the two oncoming Gators before being tripped up at the Florida thirty-two.”
“Sometimes, you forget that this the 6’6” 250-pound receiver has agile feet to go along with brute strength.”
…
“Rodgers links up with Jenkins again and the junior receiver bowls through Cole Bryant to convert the first down at the twenty-two.”
…
“Third down, five yards to go. Two runs stuff in the backfield has put Tulane in a shaky situation on this play. Rodgers takes the snap and rolls to his left. He’s not known for his speed. Pumps once, pumps twice, throws off-balanced… Jenkins has it at the eight yard line. He spins behind Travis Dudley, has to juke to get away from Winston Reed, stiff arms Dudley to keep him at bay and drags the safety over the goal line. Touchdown Tulane!”
“That was a glimpse of the Caesar Jenkins we saw during his freshman season. The route was perfect, the catch was perfect and run after was just jaw-dropping. As I said earlier in this drive, you don’t expect a receiver that big to move that quickly until he leaves you grasping at air. I know the Green Wave fans are glad that they have this version of him instead of last year’s.”
“With the extra point, it’s 24-7 Green Wave with a little more than a quarter to play and it’s going to be a tough for Florida to win this game.”
If there was anything Rock Hall hated about being the head coach of a college football team, it was facing the press after every game. The media was always looking for some dirty to drag up to write a story about. He was sure there was plenty to be found in his program but since taken over as the head man, he’d done a good job of keeping it out of the lime light.
That didn’t stop the reporters from asking about rumors surrounding about the coach himself.
“Coach Hall, with this latest win over Florida, Tulane is 19-1 with you as head coach so it’s no surprise that you are being linked with jobs at bigger programs like UCLA, Auburn and Miami.”
“UCLA, Auburn and Miami are bigga’ programs than Tulane?” the coach asked, his classic Louisiana accent causing a few reporters to struggle to make out his words.
“Well in terms of prestige on the football field, they are,” the reporter corrected, “That being said, is this your last season in New Orleans?”
“No,” Hall said plainly.
Another reporter was called on, “It’s also rumored that you’ve been tabbed as the heir apparent to Jacques English when he retires at the end of the season.”
“I’m Tulane’s coach. I’m not goin’ to speak on speculation ‘bout what’s going to happen after this season. Right na’, my job is to go out there and lead this team to a national championship. We’ve been doing a pretty good job of working towards that goal so far this season and I think y’all need to take a closer look at where Tulane stands in terms of program… prestige compared to UCLA, Auburn and Miami. We might not have cases of trophies yet, but give us a lil’ time. We’ll get there. Now, anyone got questions that don’t have to do with my status as coach of Tulane?”
The reporters hesitate for a moment too long and the Green Wave’s head coach tipped his hat to them before standing up from his seat, “Well, if that’ll be all.”
Damn media.
“It looks like Florida is trying to set up another screen pass. Ashton Riley fires it out to his halfback behind the big wall of linemen in the flat. Devin King is coming back to attempt to make a play but Tre’Davious Hillman lays a huge block on the Heisman hopeful! Mike Stahl is finally pulled down by Champ Murray at the Green Wave forty-two after a gain of seventeen.”
“That’s an example of a cornerback’s worst nightmare right there. A big offensive lineman getting to the outside and laying a crushing hit on him, and King’s not that small of a corner, but that’s something that Florida has been doing all game to take King out of the game and keep the score close at 10-7 here in the third quarter. After two losses with former quarterback DeMarius Owens under center, the Gators are doing a good job of keeping his true freshman replacement’s confidence up by not testing his luck against King.”
“We’ll have to see if Rock Hall finally manages to figure out how to get his star defender to make a bigger impact on this game.”
…
Devin took a moment to lie on the field and contemplate his life. He felt like he’d just been hit by a Mack truck – again. His mind decided to replay the moments of the last monstrous block a few more times. He’d seen Hillman coming but he couldn’t do anything to get out of the way in time and the 350 pound guard threw all his weight into trying to de-cleat him.
He was actually surprised that his feet stayed relatively close to the ground.
It was actually a sound plan. He couldn’t make an impact on the game if all they were throwing was slip screens and comebacks to the opposite side of the field. They were even running the ball to whichever side of the field he wasn’t on.
Smacking the field in anger, he rolled to his feet. Devin was determined to force them to use the entire field. He refused to lose to a team that was willing to pussy-foot their way to enough points to get the win.
…
“The Gators are back at the line of scrimmage. One back in the backfield behind Riley with three receivers split out wide. Tulane is showing blitz.”
“That’s going to keep Florida from throwing those screens but as they’ve been doing this entire game, they are just going to test Bobby Chambers over there on the right side of the field or Wayne Bale in the nickel spot.”
“Riley gets the ball from center and drops back. He looks to the right but Chambers did a good job of jamming his man at the line. Everyone’s covered except Mark Bilas over on the left but King’s trailing behind him. Riley hesitates and that gives Clint Bingham just enough time to bring him down in the backfield for the sack.”
“King was playing a dangerous game with the decision to not bump Bilas at the line. Without Murray and Adrian Taylor playing deep to stop the long pass, that could have easily turned into a touchdown but that’s the cat and mouse game that quarterbacks and cornerbacks play. Devin King’s a seasoned player and probably knows a little more about baiting quarterbacks than the freshman Ashton Riley knows about making quick changes on the field.”
“Of course, that Tulane education probably has something to do with that.”
“It definitely doesn’t hurt.”
“Second and fourteen for Florida here and they are in the shotgun. Riley with three receivers to his left and one to his right. Tulane’s corners are close to the line again. Riley takes the snap and looks to the left, nothing doing. He has Bilas again on the right. Turns and fires. It’s going to be a tight fit with Bilas between King and the sideline… and it’s picked off!”
…
Devin bobbled the ball as he caught it but quickly secured it under his arm and made sure that he came down inbounds. He shoved a flailing Bilas away from him and spun around to try and make some type of return on the pick.
Being so close to the sideline put him in a precarious position as the offensive players stormed towards him yet he still managed to toe the white chalk and advance the ball a few yards. Ducking under the outstretched arms of one of Florida’s offensive lineman, he cut towards the middle of the field and was immediately forced to throw on the brakes to dodge another flying Gator.
If there was one thing he’d learned this season, it was offensive players were undisciplined when it came to corralling players. His previous disadvantage of being fenced in by the sideline turned into a Godsend when he noticed that the other side of the field was completely void of white jerseys.
Wanting to make the most of the return, he turned on the speed and headed for the daylight. Ashton Riley lunged at his feet in a last attempt to bring him down but he hurdled over the freshman’s outstretched arms and was off to the races.
…
“He’s at the 30, the 20, the 10. Touchdown Green Wave! Wow! They need to put this guy on offense because Devin King has a nose for the endzone!”
“It’s lightening in a bottle, Jim. He gambled on the freshman making a mistake and showed a bit of that SEC speed on the return. It’s because of plays like that that Devin King should probably go home and book his flight to New York in a few months because this kid is something special.”
“And just listen to the crowd! They absolutely love him here!”
“I’d love him if he was on my team, too. You never hear about him getting into any foolishness off the field then he gets on the field and does that. Whatever NFL team gets him should consider themselves very lucky.”
“The question is when will a NFL team be able to draft him.”
“For the sake of college football, I hope it’s in two years.”
…
Caesar never thought he’d get a headache sitting on the sideline but he knew he’d be feeling a full blown migraine soon if the crowd continued to chant Devin’s name.
He couldn’t believe that it was very likely that he would end his college career and be considered second to fucking Devin King in terms of what they did at Tulane. Outside of their freshman year, he’d been outdone by his longtime rival. Caesar could only blame himself for struggling through his sophomore season but he’d blame one, Brady Rodgers, for having only having an average increase – in his mind, at least -- over the numbers of that down year.
He needed the freshman quarterback to look his way a little more. He needed a Biletnikoff. He needed to be named first team All-American. And, God damn it, he needed to be considered for the Heisman if they were thinking about a cornerback being a finalist.
The receiver caught Brady, fresh off receiving a few quick adjustments from the coaching staff, “I need the ball, Rodgers. You need to throw me the ball more.”
“I can’t throw you the ball if you aren’t open.”
“No, you can and you will. You should be good enough to fit the ball through tight coverage, right? Well, I’m good enough to make sure I catch the ball. How about this? Why don’t you just trust me on this one?”
“Caesar, you have barely been open all game. That’s why we’ve only scored ten points before Devin ran back that pick. I think I’ve been playing quarterback long enough to know when to pick my battles with good coverage and Bryant is sticking to you like white on rice. And I think it goes without saying that I have no reason to trust you.”
“Alright, whatever. I’m going to go out there and get open. You pass me the fucking ball. Make sure you get me my fucking touchdown.”
…
“Tulane’s offense takes the field and you have to think that they have the momentum now after their defense followed up that Devin King interception return with a quick three-and-out.”
“This is their chance to put the nail in the coffin and get out of here with the win. As it stands, Florida is back in with a shout if they score a touchdown but if the Green Wave can punch it into the endzone themselves the Gators are going to be facing a lead much too big for them to surmount considering they’d be forced to put the ball into the air.”
“First and ten from their own thirty-six yard line. Brady Rodgers is back in the shotgun with Desmond Smith to his left. Caesar Jenkins, Jason Williams and Raphael Jefferson split out wide. Rodgers takes the snap. The protection is good and the freshman has time to go through his reads. Fires it out to Williams and he’s brought down immediately for a gain of 10 on the play.”
“Jason Williams has been a God send for the Green Wave over the past two seasons. Living up to his billing as one of the top receivers in the country coming out of high school a couple years ago.”
“Another top recruit, Caesar Jenkins, seems to be having some creative differences with his quarterback as Tulane rushes back to the line in their normal no-huddle fashion.”
“Those Jenkins are some fiery guys. I played a couple seasons with Deion Jenkins with Oklahoma City and he didn’t take no for an answer. From what I’ve seen of Caesar over the past three years, it’s been passed down. I’m sure he wants the ball every play.”
“First down again for the Green Wave. Three receivers still out on the field. The ball’s snapped quickly and Rodgers has time to go through his options again. He finds Jenkins in between the safeties and the receiver jukes between the two oncoming Gators before being tripped up at the Florida thirty-two.”
“Sometimes, you forget that this the 6’6” 250-pound receiver has agile feet to go along with brute strength.”
…
“Rodgers links up with Jenkins again and the junior receiver bowls through Cole Bryant to convert the first down at the twenty-two.”
…
“Third down, five yards to go. Two runs stuff in the backfield has put Tulane in a shaky situation on this play. Rodgers takes the snap and rolls to his left. He’s not known for his speed. Pumps once, pumps twice, throws off-balanced… Jenkins has it at the eight yard line. He spins behind Travis Dudley, has to juke to get away from Winston Reed, stiff arms Dudley to keep him at bay and drags the safety over the goal line. Touchdown Tulane!”
“That was a glimpse of the Caesar Jenkins we saw during his freshman season. The route was perfect, the catch was perfect and run after was just jaw-dropping. As I said earlier in this drive, you don’t expect a receiver that big to move that quickly until he leaves you grasping at air. I know the Green Wave fans are glad that they have this version of him instead of last year’s.”
“With the extra point, it’s 24-7 Green Wave with a little more than a quarter to play and it’s going to be a tough for Florida to win this game.”
If there was anything Rock Hall hated about being the head coach of a college football team, it was facing the press after every game. The media was always looking for some dirty to drag up to write a story about. He was sure there was plenty to be found in his program but since taken over as the head man, he’d done a good job of keeping it out of the lime light.
That didn’t stop the reporters from asking about rumors surrounding about the coach himself.
“Coach Hall, with this latest win over Florida, Tulane is 19-1 with you as head coach so it’s no surprise that you are being linked with jobs at bigger programs like UCLA, Auburn and Miami.”
“UCLA, Auburn and Miami are bigga’ programs than Tulane?” the coach asked, his classic Louisiana accent causing a few reporters to struggle to make out his words.
“Well in terms of prestige on the football field, they are,” the reporter corrected, “That being said, is this your last season in New Orleans?”
“No,” Hall said plainly.
Another reporter was called on, “It’s also rumored that you’ve been tabbed as the heir apparent to Jacques English when he retires at the end of the season.”
“I’m Tulane’s coach. I’m not goin’ to speak on speculation ‘bout what’s going to happen after this season. Right na’, my job is to go out there and lead this team to a national championship. We’ve been doing a pretty good job of working towards that goal so far this season and I think y’all need to take a closer look at where Tulane stands in terms of program… prestige compared to UCLA, Auburn and Miami. We might not have cases of trophies yet, but give us a lil’ time. We’ll get there. Now, anyone got questions that don’t have to do with my status as coach of Tulane?”
The reporters hesitate for a moment too long and the Green Wave’s head coach tipped his hat to them before standing up from his seat, “Well, if that’ll be all.”
Damn media.
icing on the cake, if brady starts trusting caesar more, will be devin winning the heisman with caesar and the jenkins fam there to watch. lulz. and if ol' Rocky leaves, Devin and Caesar could wind up with Xavier back as the HC. talk about full circle. especially if Hasan transfer out of LSU.
I didn't think Devin would actually have a chance at the heisman when you hinted at it, but if he does somehow win it will that finally put Caesar over the edge? I also think the team is due for a slip up, in typical Tulane fashion
Wait...Caesar is 250 pounds?
Lulz.
Lulz.
double post...
Last edited:
But what would Hasan transferring out have to do with anything?
Typical Tulane like Typical City, amirite?
Typo.
I remember typing 220.I didn't want to be the first one to say it. That's LeBron James minus two inches give or take, where does all that fat go?
Show Me the Money
“It’s Monday, the AP has released their weekly college football rankings and Tulane has moved up to #3 with yet another win. I think we should be getting used this by now. This team is the real deal. One time is luck, two piques your interest but a third season of going six games without losing should tell everyone that they are again a contender for the National Championship.”
“A contender? They are going to win it all. I don’t think there is a team in the country that can stop this offense or pass against that defense.”
“As much as I want to agree with you, we all thought the same thing last year when they were 11-0 going into their final game against their rivals in Baton Rouge. Let’s not forget that USC is quietly rolling through their schedule with an offense just as deadly and the number two team, Arizona State, is finally finding its footing in the Mountain West.”
“Tulane’s in the SEC. They’ll jump Arizona State if they both finish the season undefeated. But it doesn’t matter because Arizona State has a late season out-of-conference matchup with the Trojans which won’t end well for them.”
“And how does that bold well for the Green Wave?”
“That’s a defense hand-built with love and care by Rock Hall and it embodies everything they stand for. He lets his defensive backs worry about the pass and that front seven can generate all the pressure they want. It helps that Devin King creates a no-fly zone on one side of the field. Coach Hall has always been about that type of play and it’s panning out for the Green Wave this season.”
“It’s been ‘panning out’ for a couple seasons now.”
“Rock Hall has definitely put this program on the fast track to a crystal ball.”
…
Rock Hall walked into the athletic director’s office, cursing under his breath. Tulane had just lost out on two offensive linemen that the team desperately needed and he needed to meet with his assistants and go over a list of other targets. He didn’t have time to deal with Calvin Smith’s overly hands-on approach to Green Wave athletics.
“I’m sorry to pry you away from your recruiting, Rock, but this couldn’t wait,” the athletic director said as he ushered the coach into the office and closed the door behind him.
“Then you should understand why I want to get’n and get out of here as fast as possible,” Coach Hall nodded to the man and sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of Mr. Smith’s desk, “I hope you aren’t ‘bout to ask me about those rumors.”
Smith shook his head, sitting down in his chair, “No, no, of course not. I’d be a fool to say it doesn’t concern me. You’re doing amazing things here at Tulane and I’d like to think of you as the type of man who would honor the contract you signed a couple years ago.”
“I’m still here, ain’t I?”
“That you are, which brings us to what I’d like to discuss with you,” Smith reached over to a stack of papers and thumbed through until he came to the packet he was looking for. He gave it a once over before sliding it across the desk to the New Orleans-native, “We’re offering you a contract extension through 2062. You already have us looking at a National Championship and I’m sure we’re going to win a couple of them in that time frame if we keep at this clip. Of course, we did sweeten the pay packet a bit.”
The coach picked up the contract and lightly thumbed through it, whistling when he caught a glimpse at the proposed new salary. They were pushing him into the territory of the highest paid coaches in college football, “Through 2062? That’s anotha’ seven years you addin’ to my contract.”
“We’re trying to show the country that we’re committed to winning and we haven’t won a bigger percentage of our games under any other coach. I think you’re the one that can continue our run of SEC Championship appearances and run a few National Championship banners up. Consistency is very important in this sport. The last thing we need is a revolving door of coaches.”
“Well, Mr. Smith. This is a big decision so I think that we should be take some time to think on it. You neva’ know. If we are playin’ in some rinky dink bowl game this winter, you might not want to tie me down for that long. So, let’s come back to this at the end of the year.”
“I completely understand,” the athletic director said as the two men stood and shook hands, “Take all the time you need. The contract will be waiting.”
“Mr. Jenkins, could you at least pretend that you aren’t asleep?”
Caesar slumped against the back of his chair and gave the instructor a mocking thumbs-up. He’d had to forgive himself for not being able to keep himself focused when it came to the world of profit margins, investments and portfolio management. With the semester drawing to a close, he’d all but shut down when it came to class.
He knew people would think him a fool for giving up on his studies when being so close to obtaining a degree but that was never in the plan. Besides, he was smarter than the average football player and it showed in his ability to let his mind wander during class only to walk in and ace an exam like he had hundreds of pages of notes. It helped that his course had become less theory and more application.
Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, he grabbed his bag and hopped out of his seat drawing strange looks from everyone in the class.
“Sorry,” he said, quickly putting together an excuse, “I’ve been waiting on a call from my doctor and I really can’t miss it.”
“You could have been less disturbing when getting up,” the instructor snapped.
“Right,” he nodded and left the classroom. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and was shocked by the name on the caller ID. Talking to Julie over the phone wasn’t out of the ordinary for him but he was usually the one calling her thanks to his hectic schedule.
“You were in class, weren’t you?” Julie asked as soon as he picked up, not bothering with the pleasantries.
Caesar unconsciously looked over his shoulder before lying, “No, I was asleep and couldn’t find my phone under all the shit on my floor. The ol’ dorm room’s a bit of a disaster area.”
That last comment wasn’t much of a lie.
“Oh, I just didn’t want you missing something just to answer the phone.”
“Julie, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t in class so you aren’t making me miss anything. So, what have I done to have you calling me in the middle of the day?”
“You make it sound like I’m your mother, Caesar.”
“Well, you are a mother and sometimes you get that authoritative mom tone going on so I’d say that you could make a pretty good stand-in if I were younger and needed someone to get me out of trouble at school without my parents knowing about it.”
“You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Shame on you. Anyway, I didn’t call to hear of any more of your wild childhood. So, I think I’m going to come back to Louisiana for a couple months. Mrs. DeRossi needs to meet her grandson and I know you probably want to see him.”
“Of course, I want to see him. You aren’t staying in a hotel, you know that right?”
“Caesar, I—“
“Nope, I��m not hearing it. You’re not staying in a hotel for months let alone some shitty one. I don’t care if I have to go buy a house for you to live in.”
“I don’t need a damn house for a couple months. We’ll see what happens when I get there but you know how I don’t like taking handouts.”
“A handout and a hand-up are two different things.”
“Well, I’m going to pay you back eventually for all the things you’ve given me.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I am and I will.”
“I won’t take it.”
Julie sighed, “You’re one stubborn motherfucker, you know that? Eventually, I’m going to have the money to pay you back and you are going to take that damn money even if I have to go deposit it in the damn bank myself.”
“And you’re calling me stubborn. I’m not going to budge on this money thing so we are wasting our time arguing about it. When are you going to be here?”
“By the end of the week, hopefully.”
“Damn, I’ll be in bumfuck Mississippi then. We got a game against Ole Miss.”
“Couldn’t all of Mississippi be considered bumfuck?”
“I supposed you could. There are a lot of sister and cousin fuckers out there. Probably some brother fuckers, too.”
“That’s definitely a visual I wanted. Thanks, Caesar. I’ll see you when you get back from Mississippi.”
“I hope I survive those hordes of inbred retards. Three eyes, one arm, fifteen toes…”
“God damn it, Caesar. Shut the fuck up.”
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, “I quit. See you soon.”
There was a list of things that Devin expected to do on a regular basis in the last few months: go to class, go to practice, lift weights, do a little cardio, eat, sleep, listen to Alessa tell him about whatever the athletic department had cooked up to make him more popular and play football. He didn’t mind the routine. He actually enjoyed the predictability of his life.
The joy of predictability was the reason why he was pretty pissed off about having his routine thrown for a loop by the other two Devin Kings in the world.
His father had demanded he meet them “for lunch” and wouldn’t take no for an answer no matter how many excuses Devin had come up with. He was pretty sure most of them sounded plausible. Surely, “I have an exam” should have kept an educator off his back.
A better question to be answered was when the hell his dad started going out for a meal with his grandfather, let alone going for a meal in New Orleans. It was no secret they’d never saw eye-to-eye and he was positive they didn’t bury the hatchet since he’d left for college.
Nonetheless, he was still walking into New Orleans Hamburger and Seafood as had been demanded of him.
“Aren’t you Devin King?” the hostess asked as soon as he stepped through the door. He’d have to make a note of telling Alessa to tell her bosses that their efforts were working.
“Ummm, yeeaaah. I-“
“Oh, wow. I’m more of an LSU fan than a Tulane fan. No offense,” she added that last phrase quickly after realizing who she was talking to but Devin waved it off, not really caring who she was loyal to, “But you’re pretty fu- frickin’ good. Pretty cute, too. Mind taking a quick picture with me?”
Devin had to fight off a grimace. He still wasn’t used to the whole fame thing but he acquiesced anyway, “Yeah, sure.”
The girl smiled and quickly got her phone from under the podium she was standing next to. After a few moments of her struggling to reach her arm out far enough to get them both in frame, Devin took the phone from her and did it himself.
“Handy, too,” she giggled as he handed her back the phone.
“I try,” he shrugged, “Well, my dad and grandpa should already be here… somewhere.”
“Right,” she nodded, fan girl mode seemingly over. Reaching over to a clipboard, she scribbled something onto a piece of paper and ripped it in half before grabbing a menu for him, “Follow me.”
As he trailed behind the diminutive hostess, he was glad that the place wasn’t very busy. Outside of a few double takes, no one really bothered him. He was also glad his dad and grandpa were seated towards the rear of the restaurant, away from most of the other patrons. He didn’t know anyone listening in on the eventual argument.
“Here we are,” the girl smiled, setting the menu down for Devin, “Y’alls waitress should come by again but if you need anything my name’s Bethany. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thanks,” Devin nodded to her as she walked off. He turned back to the table, noticing that the other two men at the table were staring at him.
“She wasn’t that nice to me,” the oldest of the three said.
“It’s because you are a grumpy old man,” Devin chuckled before opening the menu. A shard of paper slipped out and fell onto the table. He picked it up and had to stop himself from laughing as he realized the hostess had slipped him her phone number. Glancing around the table, he noticed an extra cup of water, “That for anyone?”
“You if you want it,” his father answered.
Devin rolled the piece of paper between his fingers and dropped it into the water, pushing it to the bottom with his finger.
“Was that what I think it was?” Devin, Jr. asked.
Devin shrugged and went back to browsing the menu, “Depends on what you think it was.”
“Boy, just when I think you are finally getting it through your head about this football shit, you go and do something like that. If I was 20 years younger, I’d give my left nut to get with that one.”
“Jesus Christ, could you be any more crass?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Devin waved off the comment, “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m kinda with someone and that girl is pretty average in comparison. So, what the hell am I here for? I could be doing something more productive.”
“Before the food?”
The youngest King nodded, “It’d be easier for me to leave if I didn’t have any food in front of me. Come on now, out with it.”
“Well, your grandfather told me that he talked to you about his problems with the IRS.”
“Did he also tell you what I said about that?”
“Yes, of course, but take a minute to think about it Devin. I know I haven’t always been my own father’s biggest fan but I don’t want him to sit in jail over some unpaid taxes especially if I had the means to help him out. That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?”
Devin looked up from the menu, “Fried shrimp sure does sound good. Fries, hush puppies. A meal of champions.”
“I told you he wasn’t having it. I don’t know why you dragged me all the way up here thinking you had any better chance of convincing this ungrateful bastard than I did.”
“Insults work wonders.”
Devin, III sighed heavily, “Damn it, Devin, could you just listen to me for a minute? We’re not the closest of families but we are still family. This is a delicate situation that could tear the family apart if we don’t handle this properly. How do you think Grandma Lori feel if her husband was sent to jail for God knows how long?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Devin asked angrily.
“What do you mean what are you supposed to do about that? Isn’t that obvious?”
“How many times do I have to say that this is my fucking decision to make? If I don’t want to declare for the motherfucking draft, I’m not going to declare for the motherfucking draft. Stop trying to tell me what to do with my damn life. I don’t know why you two even thought this would work. But please, do try again in a couple months. Now, where is that waitress so I can make this trip worthwhile?”
Devin was happy that there were no more attempts to try to sway his opinion on whether or not he was going to declare for the draft. Unfortunately, he knew the conversation was nowhere near over. He’d give it a couple weeks before either his dad or his grandpa called him up or he would get caught in Houma during the break between the conference championship game and whatever bowl game Tulane played it.
As strange as it sounded, despite his vocal protests to adhering to the opinions of his elders, he did feel some sense of obligation to help his family out of the rut that Devin King, Jr. had dug them into.
That was how life worked wasn’t it? The financial burden of a family passed down the youngest male as soon as they found a means to take on the burden. It was one of life’s cycles that one couldn’t avoid but it’d be a tough choice if he was playing in New Orleans in January instead of Los Angeles.
“It’s Monday, the AP has released their weekly college football rankings and Tulane has moved up to #3 with yet another win. I think we should be getting used this by now. This team is the real deal. One time is luck, two piques your interest but a third season of going six games without losing should tell everyone that they are again a contender for the National Championship.”
“A contender? They are going to win it all. I don’t think there is a team in the country that can stop this offense or pass against that defense.”
“As much as I want to agree with you, we all thought the same thing last year when they were 11-0 going into their final game against their rivals in Baton Rouge. Let’s not forget that USC is quietly rolling through their schedule with an offense just as deadly and the number two team, Arizona State, is finally finding its footing in the Mountain West.”
“Tulane’s in the SEC. They’ll jump Arizona State if they both finish the season undefeated. But it doesn’t matter because Arizona State has a late season out-of-conference matchup with the Trojans which won’t end well for them.”
“And how does that bold well for the Green Wave?”
“That’s a defense hand-built with love and care by Rock Hall and it embodies everything they stand for. He lets his defensive backs worry about the pass and that front seven can generate all the pressure they want. It helps that Devin King creates a no-fly zone on one side of the field. Coach Hall has always been about that type of play and it’s panning out for the Green Wave this season.”
“It’s been ‘panning out’ for a couple seasons now.”
“Rock Hall has definitely put this program on the fast track to a crystal ball.”
…
Rock Hall walked into the athletic director’s office, cursing under his breath. Tulane had just lost out on two offensive linemen that the team desperately needed and he needed to meet with his assistants and go over a list of other targets. He didn’t have time to deal with Calvin Smith’s overly hands-on approach to Green Wave athletics.
“I’m sorry to pry you away from your recruiting, Rock, but this couldn’t wait,” the athletic director said as he ushered the coach into the office and closed the door behind him.
“Then you should understand why I want to get’n and get out of here as fast as possible,” Coach Hall nodded to the man and sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of Mr. Smith’s desk, “I hope you aren’t ‘bout to ask me about those rumors.”
Smith shook his head, sitting down in his chair, “No, no, of course not. I’d be a fool to say it doesn’t concern me. You’re doing amazing things here at Tulane and I’d like to think of you as the type of man who would honor the contract you signed a couple years ago.”
“I’m still here, ain’t I?”
“That you are, which brings us to what I’d like to discuss with you,” Smith reached over to a stack of papers and thumbed through until he came to the packet he was looking for. He gave it a once over before sliding it across the desk to the New Orleans-native, “We’re offering you a contract extension through 2062. You already have us looking at a National Championship and I’m sure we’re going to win a couple of them in that time frame if we keep at this clip. Of course, we did sweeten the pay packet a bit.”
The coach picked up the contract and lightly thumbed through it, whistling when he caught a glimpse at the proposed new salary. They were pushing him into the territory of the highest paid coaches in college football, “Through 2062? That’s anotha’ seven years you addin’ to my contract.”
“We’re trying to show the country that we’re committed to winning and we haven’t won a bigger percentage of our games under any other coach. I think you’re the one that can continue our run of SEC Championship appearances and run a few National Championship banners up. Consistency is very important in this sport. The last thing we need is a revolving door of coaches.”
“Well, Mr. Smith. This is a big decision so I think that we should be take some time to think on it. You neva’ know. If we are playin’ in some rinky dink bowl game this winter, you might not want to tie me down for that long. So, let’s come back to this at the end of the year.”
“I completely understand,” the athletic director said as the two men stood and shook hands, “Take all the time you need. The contract will be waiting.”
“Mr. Jenkins, could you at least pretend that you aren’t asleep?”
Caesar slumped against the back of his chair and gave the instructor a mocking thumbs-up. He’d had to forgive himself for not being able to keep himself focused when it came to the world of profit margins, investments and portfolio management. With the semester drawing to a close, he’d all but shut down when it came to class.
He knew people would think him a fool for giving up on his studies when being so close to obtaining a degree but that was never in the plan. Besides, he was smarter than the average football player and it showed in his ability to let his mind wander during class only to walk in and ace an exam like he had hundreds of pages of notes. It helped that his course had become less theory and more application.
Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, he grabbed his bag and hopped out of his seat drawing strange looks from everyone in the class.
“Sorry,” he said, quickly putting together an excuse, “I’ve been waiting on a call from my doctor and I really can’t miss it.”
“You could have been less disturbing when getting up,” the instructor snapped.
“Right,” he nodded and left the classroom. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and was shocked by the name on the caller ID. Talking to Julie over the phone wasn’t out of the ordinary for him but he was usually the one calling her thanks to his hectic schedule.
“You were in class, weren’t you?” Julie asked as soon as he picked up, not bothering with the pleasantries.
Caesar unconsciously looked over his shoulder before lying, “No, I was asleep and couldn’t find my phone under all the shit on my floor. The ol’ dorm room’s a bit of a disaster area.”
That last comment wasn’t much of a lie.
“Oh, I just didn’t want you missing something just to answer the phone.”
“Julie, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t in class so you aren’t making me miss anything. So, what have I done to have you calling me in the middle of the day?”
“You make it sound like I’m your mother, Caesar.”
“Well, you are a mother and sometimes you get that authoritative mom tone going on so I’d say that you could make a pretty good stand-in if I were younger and needed someone to get me out of trouble at school without my parents knowing about it.”
“You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Shame on you. Anyway, I didn’t call to hear of any more of your wild childhood. So, I think I’m going to come back to Louisiana for a couple months. Mrs. DeRossi needs to meet her grandson and I know you probably want to see him.”
“Of course, I want to see him. You aren’t staying in a hotel, you know that right?”
“Caesar, I—“
“Nope, I��m not hearing it. You’re not staying in a hotel for months let alone some shitty one. I don’t care if I have to go buy a house for you to live in.”
“I don’t need a damn house for a couple months. We’ll see what happens when I get there but you know how I don’t like taking handouts.”
“A handout and a hand-up are two different things.”
“Well, I’m going to pay you back eventually for all the things you’ve given me.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I am and I will.”
“I won’t take it.”
Julie sighed, “You’re one stubborn motherfucker, you know that? Eventually, I’m going to have the money to pay you back and you are going to take that damn money even if I have to go deposit it in the damn bank myself.”
“And you’re calling me stubborn. I’m not going to budge on this money thing so we are wasting our time arguing about it. When are you going to be here?”
“By the end of the week, hopefully.”
“Damn, I’ll be in bumfuck Mississippi then. We got a game against Ole Miss.”
“Couldn’t all of Mississippi be considered bumfuck?”
“I supposed you could. There are a lot of sister and cousin fuckers out there. Probably some brother fuckers, too.”
“That’s definitely a visual I wanted. Thanks, Caesar. I’ll see you when you get back from Mississippi.”
“I hope I survive those hordes of inbred retards. Three eyes, one arm, fifteen toes…”
“God damn it, Caesar. Shut the fuck up.”
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, “I quit. See you soon.”
There was a list of things that Devin expected to do on a regular basis in the last few months: go to class, go to practice, lift weights, do a little cardio, eat, sleep, listen to Alessa tell him about whatever the athletic department had cooked up to make him more popular and play football. He didn’t mind the routine. He actually enjoyed the predictability of his life.
The joy of predictability was the reason why he was pretty pissed off about having his routine thrown for a loop by the other two Devin Kings in the world.
His father had demanded he meet them “for lunch” and wouldn’t take no for an answer no matter how many excuses Devin had come up with. He was pretty sure most of them sounded plausible. Surely, “I have an exam” should have kept an educator off his back.
A better question to be answered was when the hell his dad started going out for a meal with his grandfather, let alone going for a meal in New Orleans. It was no secret they’d never saw eye-to-eye and he was positive they didn’t bury the hatchet since he’d left for college.
Nonetheless, he was still walking into New Orleans Hamburger and Seafood as had been demanded of him.
“Aren’t you Devin King?” the hostess asked as soon as he stepped through the door. He’d have to make a note of telling Alessa to tell her bosses that their efforts were working.
“Ummm, yeeaaah. I-“
“Oh, wow. I’m more of an LSU fan than a Tulane fan. No offense,” she added that last phrase quickly after realizing who she was talking to but Devin waved it off, not really caring who she was loyal to, “But you’re pretty fu- frickin’ good. Pretty cute, too. Mind taking a quick picture with me?”
Devin had to fight off a grimace. He still wasn’t used to the whole fame thing but he acquiesced anyway, “Yeah, sure.”
The girl smiled and quickly got her phone from under the podium she was standing next to. After a few moments of her struggling to reach her arm out far enough to get them both in frame, Devin took the phone from her and did it himself.
“Handy, too,” she giggled as he handed her back the phone.
“I try,” he shrugged, “Well, my dad and grandpa should already be here… somewhere.”
“Right,” she nodded, fan girl mode seemingly over. Reaching over to a clipboard, she scribbled something onto a piece of paper and ripped it in half before grabbing a menu for him, “Follow me.”
As he trailed behind the diminutive hostess, he was glad that the place wasn’t very busy. Outside of a few double takes, no one really bothered him. He was also glad his dad and grandpa were seated towards the rear of the restaurant, away from most of the other patrons. He didn’t know anyone listening in on the eventual argument.
“Here we are,” the girl smiled, setting the menu down for Devin, “Y’alls waitress should come by again but if you need anything my name’s Bethany. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thanks,” Devin nodded to her as she walked off. He turned back to the table, noticing that the other two men at the table were staring at him.
“She wasn’t that nice to me,” the oldest of the three said.
“It’s because you are a grumpy old man,” Devin chuckled before opening the menu. A shard of paper slipped out and fell onto the table. He picked it up and had to stop himself from laughing as he realized the hostess had slipped him her phone number. Glancing around the table, he noticed an extra cup of water, “That for anyone?”
“You if you want it,” his father answered.
Devin rolled the piece of paper between his fingers and dropped it into the water, pushing it to the bottom with his finger.
“Was that what I think it was?” Devin, Jr. asked.
Devin shrugged and went back to browsing the menu, “Depends on what you think it was.”
“Boy, just when I think you are finally getting it through your head about this football shit, you go and do something like that. If I was 20 years younger, I’d give my left nut to get with that one.”
“Jesus Christ, could you be any more crass?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Devin waved off the comment, “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m kinda with someone and that girl is pretty average in comparison. So, what the hell am I here for? I could be doing something more productive.”
“Before the food?”
The youngest King nodded, “It’d be easier for me to leave if I didn’t have any food in front of me. Come on now, out with it.”
“Well, your grandfather told me that he talked to you about his problems with the IRS.”
“Did he also tell you what I said about that?”
“Yes, of course, but take a minute to think about it Devin. I know I haven’t always been my own father’s biggest fan but I don’t want him to sit in jail over some unpaid taxes especially if I had the means to help him out. That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?”
Devin looked up from the menu, “Fried shrimp sure does sound good. Fries, hush puppies. A meal of champions.”
“I told you he wasn’t having it. I don’t know why you dragged me all the way up here thinking you had any better chance of convincing this ungrateful bastard than I did.”
“Insults work wonders.”
Devin, III sighed heavily, “Damn it, Devin, could you just listen to me for a minute? We’re not the closest of families but we are still family. This is a delicate situation that could tear the family apart if we don’t handle this properly. How do you think Grandma Lori feel if her husband was sent to jail for God knows how long?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Devin asked angrily.
“What do you mean what are you supposed to do about that? Isn’t that obvious?”
“How many times do I have to say that this is my fucking decision to make? If I don’t want to declare for the motherfucking draft, I’m not going to declare for the motherfucking draft. Stop trying to tell me what to do with my damn life. I don’t know why you two even thought this would work. But please, do try again in a couple months. Now, where is that waitress so I can make this trip worthwhile?”
Devin was happy that there were no more attempts to try to sway his opinion on whether or not he was going to declare for the draft. Unfortunately, he knew the conversation was nowhere near over. He’d give it a couple weeks before either his dad or his grandpa called him up or he would get caught in Houma during the break between the conference championship game and whatever bowl game Tulane played it.
As strange as it sounded, despite his vocal protests to adhering to the opinions of his elders, he did feel some sense of obligation to help his family out of the rut that Devin King, Jr. had dug them into.
That was how life worked wasn’t it? The financial burden of a family passed down the youngest male as soon as they found a means to take on the burden. It was one of life’s cycles that one couldn’t avoid but it’d be a tough choice if he was playing in New Orleans in January instead of Los Angeles.
i dont think devin will help them out. pretty established that he now equally hates both elder Kings and is really becoming his own man who does what he wants. i doubt he bows to their whims, even if it is family. i dont know how these things work but maybe he helps pay for some of it to cut his jail time in half? is that even a thing?
not sure on the significance of letting us know about the coach but im sure itll have a role down the road. fired, cut and leaves next year, who knows. and another typical julie/caesar back and forth on money.
not sure on the significance of letting us know about the coach but im sure itll have a role down the road. fired, cut and leaves next year, who knows. and another typical julie/caesar back and forth on money.
MOAR!
That’s My Story and I’m Sticking to It
The first rays of early morning sun streaming through the window stirred Daniel from his sleep. Covering his face from the light beating down on him, he groaned as his head began to pound from the previous night’s drinking binge.
Parties on Tuesday nights were not a good idea.
He started to sit up but felt two arms thrown across him. Peeking through his fingers, he noticed they were two very different arms attached to two very different girls. Unfortunately, he could wasn’t able to recall any of the events of the previous night but if the state of his room was any indication – it had been one hell of a night cap.
The life of the big man on campus was still strange to him. It had only been a few weeks ago that he was holding a clipboard behind a quarterback who shouldn’t have been starting for any college football team let alone one in a power conference. Now, he was getting as much attention as a player three or four years his senior.
It didn’t take a super sleuth to know that one man was responsible for the drastic change in life in Stillwater.
Deion Jenkins had his hands in everything when it came to Cowboys athletics. To call him a donor or booster would be an understatement. He was more powerful on Oklahoma State’s campus than the president and now, Daniel was benefiting from be selected as the chosen one.
It started with his room suddenly being declared unfit for he and his roommate to live in and his new accommodations – a two bedroom apartment to himself -- being practically in a newer section of the “athletic village.” He was worried about being caught by the NCAA until he realized he’d be given an apartment in the complex normally devoted to married students. It might have looked fishy but he was sure that the higher-ups at the university had been told how to explain it if need be.
Now his stipend was a little higher, his courses a little easier, his car a little cleaner and girls a little more willing. And without explicitly being told, he knew all he had to do was go out every Saturday and win a football game. It was a fair trade in, his opinion.
Besides, players receiving improper benefits at Oklahoma State was nothing new. Deion Jenkins himself had been set up pretty nicely after the alumni realized he could lead them to a National Championship and there were surely other incidents before that era. It had become a part of the culture in Stillwater as much as Pistol Pete and T. Boone Pickens.
Deciding it was time to get out of bed and start his day, he carefully extracted himself from the tangle of limbs. He really wished he remembered last night’s events.
He did, however, have to pride himself on his apparent desire for variety in his women even when drunk. A man might as well sample all his options if they were falling at his feet, right?
Daniel stepped out the relative quiet of his bedroom and into the low din of what was surely a few of his teammates taking advantage of their quarterback’s new digs.
“If it isn’t the man of the decade!” Dominick Johnson, the team’s starting receiver, shouted when Daniel walked into the living room, “I never thought I’d be able to say that you were the life of any party, frosh, but you shocked us all last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“He means he didn’t know you were down with the swirl,” Chris Erving, one of the running backs, added from the kitchen.
“Fucking A. When Scoop told me you left with a black chick AND a white girl, I was shocked,” Dominick continued.
Daniel only shook his head both at the notion that the color of a one night stand’s skin matter and the mention of Oklahoma State’s other resident Louisianan Trenton Fonseca. He still had no idea how a defensive back from West Monroe earned a nickname like “Scoop” but if the guy wanted to be called Scoop… he would call him Scoop. At least, it was better than a nickname like Dookie or some of the other terrible ones he’d heard in his time.
“That makes me the man of the decade?” Daniel asked.
Dominick took a moment to think it over before shaking his head, “Now, that I think of it… no it doesn’t… unless those girls are still here and you convince them to cook us all lunch. That would make you the man of the decade.”
“I’m going to throw them out when they wake up,” Daniel admitted, “Sometimes, it’s a chore to throw out one girl. I don’t even want to think about getting rid of both of them. I think I have class with them… or at least one of them.”
“That’ll teach you to choose ‘em more wisely,” the running back chuckled.
“He doesn’t choose them. They choose him,” Dominick said with a laugh of his own.
Exactly. They chose him. Daniel decided that was his story and he was sticking to it.
Caesar lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. To say that he was bored would have been an understatement. As was part of their routine, he’d pissed Sophie off when he paid her a visit solely for sex and his other lady friends seemed to all be indisposed. Even some good ol’ bonding with his teammates was out of the question as Jason was out doing some type of community service with his fraternity.
He’d debated actually taking the time to clean his room for the first time in weeks but he dispelled the thought almost immediately. No matter how dirty the room got, cleaning would not and would never be something he did. He’d rather burn all the dirty clothes and buy new ones.
Loud banging at the door broke him out of his internal debate of what to do with his time.
“Come in, it’s open!”
The door opened and behind it stood the one person he never expected to see on Tulane’s campus unannounced.
“Good God, it smells like a whore house in here.”
“What the fuck are you even doing here, Erik?” Caesar asked, sitting up.
“We have a bye and I was bored so I decided to take a trip down to New Orleans to spend some time with you, brother dearest.”
“Don’t bullshit me. I’m not in the mood.”
Erik shrugged, “I’m not bullshitting. I even called you a few times while I was driving down Airline but you didn’t answer your phone. I figured I might need a kidney or a blood transfusion or something and who better to get that from than your brother, right?”
“We’re only half-brothers. I doubt we have the same blood type.”
“Damn, I didn’t think about that. So, you’re not AB?”
“No, O.”
“Well, fuck, I’m good then. You can give blood to everyone.”
“Great. Now, that you know that you can leave.”
“I already told you, Caesar, I came down here for a reason. Besides, I’m not going to turn around and drive back to Baton Rouge after spending twenty minutes here. Gas is too expensive for that.”
“The fuck do you want from me, man? We aren’t close and I didn’t ask you to come here. If you need money for gas that bad, you can take one of my credit cards and just mail it back to me when you get to that shithole campus.”
“Look, Jessica has been on my case since fucking December about actually being brotherly towards you. I’m getting tired of hearing the same shit over and over again so—“
“So, get another bitch. It’s not hard. I can loan you one or two while you look,” Caesar jumped in.
“Naw, I’m good. I actually enjoy my health. Anyway, like I was saying, so she finally convinced me to drive down here and spend some time with you. I mean, she had some pretty good points. We’re about to leave college this year or next. Do—“
“You might plan on staying another year. I’m already lining up my private workouts for next spring.”
“Could you stop fucking cutting me off?”
“Go on then.”
“Eventually, we are going to have kids. You probably already have two or three. Do you want them to come across their cousins the way you came across me or worse imagine if your devil spawn tried to fuck his one of his cousins. That’d scar him for life.”
“Fucking hell, that’s the type of shit that you think about? Whatever, I’ll give you thirty minutes and then you can get back in your piece of shit car and bring your ass back to Baton Rouge.”
“Just trying to appease the missus, but do we have to stay in here? Your room really does smell like a brothel.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Caesar snapped, getting out of his bed and stepping into the nearest pair of shoes, “It doesn’t even smell that bad in here.”
Erik turned around and stepped into the hall, “Maybe not to you because you are used to that shit but to those of us who actually clean, it smells like stale pussy and old condoms.”
“Don’t know why it would smell like condoms.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
Caesar only shrugged to answer his brother’s question as he closed the door behind them and headed down the hall.
“The fuck you trying to do? Sow your wild oats in every girl you come across?”
“I’m Catholic.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You need to go to church, buddy. We can swing by the one on campus if you want.”
“I’ll pass. Jessica drags me to church every chance she gets. There’s only so much wailing a man can take.”
“Does she also carry your fucking nuts in her purse? I’m a bit ashamed to say that we are related. Man up, Erik.”
“One day, you’ll understand.”
“I hope that day never comes. The domesticated life isn’t for me nor will it ever be.”
“Come on, Caesar. I might not have known you my entire life but we aren’t that different, you and me. You want the same things out of life that I do. The only difference is I don’t have a problem admitting that I want what I want because I could give a fuck less about appeasing other people.”
“Is this where you tell me that I’m looking for love in all the wrong places or some equally gay shit?” Caesar asked as he pushed the button to call the elevator.
“Nope. If you want to stick your dick in everything with a vag, that’s your choice. I’m just saying we’ve gone through some of the same things and want to be in the same place in three to five years.”
“That’s not true. From what I heard, you were telling dad that you didn’t intend to declare in a couple months. I’m playing out the stretch here. I’ll be hearing my name called first in April.”
Erik laughed and stepped into the elevator, “You aren’t going to declare.”
“Please, what else will I have to accomplish here after we win it all this season?”
“Can’t win it all if you lose in the last game of the regular season again.”
“Except we aren’t going to lose,” Caesar shrugged as he joined Erik inside the elevator, “You know that LSU has no chance to pull off that bullshit again this year especially with that piss poor run game. So like I said, after I win the National Championship this season, you might as well head to the nearest store and buy my jersey for whatever team has the top pick in the draft. It’s looking like it will be the Saints so I’ll probably refuse to play for them so they trade that shit away.”
“You aren’t going to declare,” Erik repeated, “And I doubt the Saints would pick you anyway. They don’t need a receiver. They’re going to pick Timmy Nguyen from USC. They need a solid linebacker.”
“Everyone team needs me. Getting defenders that high is cute but not only do I make the plays on the field, I put asses in the seats whether they are there to see me dominate poor defensive backs or if they are there in hopes that I only rip off 60 yards and don’t make their favorite team look too bad.”
“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. You aren’t going to declare and you aren’t going to go first overall this year or next year. You can listen to Deion if you want but just like I knew that going to Oklahoma State would have been a bad idea, I know declaring too early would be too.”
Caesar shrugged, “Declaring this year might be too early for you but coming back for a fourth year would be disastrous for me. Anyway, I’m hungry and I’m tired of listening to you attempt to psychologize me. I already pay someone a lot of money for that. Maybe, we can find you a bitch who won’t attempt to castrate you on the way.”
“Again, I’ll pass but don’t think I won’t call you and tell you ‘I told you so’ in February.”
“That’s if Jessica is still letting you use the phone in February.”
“I think she’ll make an exception to let me congratulate you on choosing to go back and finish your degree.”
“Are you sure we are related?”
“Unfortunately.”
Caesar shook his head. Erik might have actually forced himself to believe that Caesar wouldn’t declare for the draft after this season but that had been a foregone conclusion since he was a sophomore in high school. He was more concerned with which team was going to give up a king’s share of picks to move up and get him.
As for the matter of actually spending time with his brother, he’d chalk that up to the hours of boredom he faced if he chose not to. Erik still aggravated him, was still “one of them” and still stole some of his limelight as the heir to the greatest footballing lineage the country had ever seen.
That was his story and he was sticking to it.
The first rays of early morning sun streaming through the window stirred Daniel from his sleep. Covering his face from the light beating down on him, he groaned as his head began to pound from the previous night’s drinking binge.
Parties on Tuesday nights were not a good idea.
He started to sit up but felt two arms thrown across him. Peeking through his fingers, he noticed they were two very different arms attached to two very different girls. Unfortunately, he could wasn’t able to recall any of the events of the previous night but if the state of his room was any indication – it had been one hell of a night cap.
The life of the big man on campus was still strange to him. It had only been a few weeks ago that he was holding a clipboard behind a quarterback who shouldn’t have been starting for any college football team let alone one in a power conference. Now, he was getting as much attention as a player three or four years his senior.
It didn’t take a super sleuth to know that one man was responsible for the drastic change in life in Stillwater.
Deion Jenkins had his hands in everything when it came to Cowboys athletics. To call him a donor or booster would be an understatement. He was more powerful on Oklahoma State’s campus than the president and now, Daniel was benefiting from be selected as the chosen one.
It started with his room suddenly being declared unfit for he and his roommate to live in and his new accommodations – a two bedroom apartment to himself -- being practically in a newer section of the “athletic village.” He was worried about being caught by the NCAA until he realized he’d be given an apartment in the complex normally devoted to married students. It might have looked fishy but he was sure that the higher-ups at the university had been told how to explain it if need be.
Now his stipend was a little higher, his courses a little easier, his car a little cleaner and girls a little more willing. And without explicitly being told, he knew all he had to do was go out every Saturday and win a football game. It was a fair trade in, his opinion.
Besides, players receiving improper benefits at Oklahoma State was nothing new. Deion Jenkins himself had been set up pretty nicely after the alumni realized he could lead them to a National Championship and there were surely other incidents before that era. It had become a part of the culture in Stillwater as much as Pistol Pete and T. Boone Pickens.
Deciding it was time to get out of bed and start his day, he carefully extracted himself from the tangle of limbs. He really wished he remembered last night’s events.
He did, however, have to pride himself on his apparent desire for variety in his women even when drunk. A man might as well sample all his options if they were falling at his feet, right?
Daniel stepped out the relative quiet of his bedroom and into the low din of what was surely a few of his teammates taking advantage of their quarterback’s new digs.
“If it isn’t the man of the decade!” Dominick Johnson, the team’s starting receiver, shouted when Daniel walked into the living room, “I never thought I’d be able to say that you were the life of any party, frosh, but you shocked us all last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“He means he didn’t know you were down with the swirl,” Chris Erving, one of the running backs, added from the kitchen.
“Fucking A. When Scoop told me you left with a black chick AND a white girl, I was shocked,” Dominick continued.
Daniel only shook his head both at the notion that the color of a one night stand’s skin matter and the mention of Oklahoma State’s other resident Louisianan Trenton Fonseca. He still had no idea how a defensive back from West Monroe earned a nickname like “Scoop” but if the guy wanted to be called Scoop… he would call him Scoop. At least, it was better than a nickname like Dookie or some of the other terrible ones he’d heard in his time.
“That makes me the man of the decade?” Daniel asked.
Dominick took a moment to think it over before shaking his head, “Now, that I think of it… no it doesn’t… unless those girls are still here and you convince them to cook us all lunch. That would make you the man of the decade.”
“I’m going to throw them out when they wake up,” Daniel admitted, “Sometimes, it’s a chore to throw out one girl. I don’t even want to think about getting rid of both of them. I think I have class with them… or at least one of them.”
“That’ll teach you to choose ‘em more wisely,” the running back chuckled.
“He doesn’t choose them. They choose him,” Dominick said with a laugh of his own.
Exactly. They chose him. Daniel decided that was his story and he was sticking to it.
Caesar lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. To say that he was bored would have been an understatement. As was part of their routine, he’d pissed Sophie off when he paid her a visit solely for sex and his other lady friends seemed to all be indisposed. Even some good ol’ bonding with his teammates was out of the question as Jason was out doing some type of community service with his fraternity.
He’d debated actually taking the time to clean his room for the first time in weeks but he dispelled the thought almost immediately. No matter how dirty the room got, cleaning would not and would never be something he did. He’d rather burn all the dirty clothes and buy new ones.
Loud banging at the door broke him out of his internal debate of what to do with his time.
“Come in, it’s open!”
The door opened and behind it stood the one person he never expected to see on Tulane’s campus unannounced.
“Good God, it smells like a whore house in here.”
“What the fuck are you even doing here, Erik?” Caesar asked, sitting up.
“We have a bye and I was bored so I decided to take a trip down to New Orleans to spend some time with you, brother dearest.”
“Don’t bullshit me. I’m not in the mood.”
Erik shrugged, “I’m not bullshitting. I even called you a few times while I was driving down Airline but you didn’t answer your phone. I figured I might need a kidney or a blood transfusion or something and who better to get that from than your brother, right?”
“We’re only half-brothers. I doubt we have the same blood type.”
“Damn, I didn’t think about that. So, you’re not AB?”
“No, O.”
“Well, fuck, I’m good then. You can give blood to everyone.”
“Great. Now, that you know that you can leave.”
“I already told you, Caesar, I came down here for a reason. Besides, I’m not going to turn around and drive back to Baton Rouge after spending twenty minutes here. Gas is too expensive for that.”
“The fuck do you want from me, man? We aren’t close and I didn’t ask you to come here. If you need money for gas that bad, you can take one of my credit cards and just mail it back to me when you get to that shithole campus.”
“Look, Jessica has been on my case since fucking December about actually being brotherly towards you. I’m getting tired of hearing the same shit over and over again so—“
“So, get another bitch. It’s not hard. I can loan you one or two while you look,” Caesar jumped in.
“Naw, I’m good. I actually enjoy my health. Anyway, like I was saying, so she finally convinced me to drive down here and spend some time with you. I mean, she had some pretty good points. We’re about to leave college this year or next. Do—“
“You might plan on staying another year. I’m already lining up my private workouts for next spring.”
“Could you stop fucking cutting me off?”
“Go on then.”
“Eventually, we are going to have kids. You probably already have two or three. Do you want them to come across their cousins the way you came across me or worse imagine if your devil spawn tried to fuck his one of his cousins. That’d scar him for life.”
“Fucking hell, that’s the type of shit that you think about? Whatever, I’ll give you thirty minutes and then you can get back in your piece of shit car and bring your ass back to Baton Rouge.”
“Just trying to appease the missus, but do we have to stay in here? Your room really does smell like a brothel.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Caesar snapped, getting out of his bed and stepping into the nearest pair of shoes, “It doesn’t even smell that bad in here.”
Erik turned around and stepped into the hall, “Maybe not to you because you are used to that shit but to those of us who actually clean, it smells like stale pussy and old condoms.”
“Don’t know why it would smell like condoms.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
Caesar only shrugged to answer his brother’s question as he closed the door behind them and headed down the hall.
“The fuck you trying to do? Sow your wild oats in every girl you come across?”
“I’m Catholic.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You need to go to church, buddy. We can swing by the one on campus if you want.”
“I’ll pass. Jessica drags me to church every chance she gets. There’s only so much wailing a man can take.”
“Does she also carry your fucking nuts in her purse? I’m a bit ashamed to say that we are related. Man up, Erik.”
“One day, you’ll understand.”
“I hope that day never comes. The domesticated life isn’t for me nor will it ever be.”
“Come on, Caesar. I might not have known you my entire life but we aren’t that different, you and me. You want the same things out of life that I do. The only difference is I don’t have a problem admitting that I want what I want because I could give a fuck less about appeasing other people.”
“Is this where you tell me that I’m looking for love in all the wrong places or some equally gay shit?” Caesar asked as he pushed the button to call the elevator.
“Nope. If you want to stick your dick in everything with a vag, that’s your choice. I’m just saying we’ve gone through some of the same things and want to be in the same place in three to five years.”
“That’s not true. From what I heard, you were telling dad that you didn’t intend to declare in a couple months. I’m playing out the stretch here. I’ll be hearing my name called first in April.”
Erik laughed and stepped into the elevator, “You aren’t going to declare.”
“Please, what else will I have to accomplish here after we win it all this season?”
“Can’t win it all if you lose in the last game of the regular season again.”
“Except we aren’t going to lose,” Caesar shrugged as he joined Erik inside the elevator, “You know that LSU has no chance to pull off that bullshit again this year especially with that piss poor run game. So like I said, after I win the National Championship this season, you might as well head to the nearest store and buy my jersey for whatever team has the top pick in the draft. It’s looking like it will be the Saints so I’ll probably refuse to play for them so they trade that shit away.”
“You aren’t going to declare,” Erik repeated, “And I doubt the Saints would pick you anyway. They don’t need a receiver. They’re going to pick Timmy Nguyen from USC. They need a solid linebacker.”
“Everyone team needs me. Getting defenders that high is cute but not only do I make the plays on the field, I put asses in the seats whether they are there to see me dominate poor defensive backs or if they are there in hopes that I only rip off 60 yards and don’t make their favorite team look too bad.”
“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. You aren’t going to declare and you aren’t going to go first overall this year or next year. You can listen to Deion if you want but just like I knew that going to Oklahoma State would have been a bad idea, I know declaring too early would be too.”
Caesar shrugged, “Declaring this year might be too early for you but coming back for a fourth year would be disastrous for me. Anyway, I’m hungry and I’m tired of listening to you attempt to psychologize me. I already pay someone a lot of money for that. Maybe, we can find you a bitch who won’t attempt to castrate you on the way.”
“Again, I’ll pass but don’t think I won’t call you and tell you ‘I told you so’ in February.”
“That’s if Jessica is still letting you use the phone in February.”
“I think she’ll make an exception to let me congratulate you on choosing to go back and finish your degree.”
“Are you sure we are related?”
“Unfortunately.”
Caesar shook his head. Erik might have actually forced himself to believe that Caesar wouldn’t declare for the draft after this season but that had been a foregone conclusion since he was a sophomore in high school. He was more concerned with which team was going to give up a king’s share of picks to move up and get him.
As for the matter of actually spending time with his brother, he’d chalk that up to the hours of boredom he faced if he chose not to. Erik still aggravated him, was still “one of them” and still stole some of his limelight as the heir to the greatest footballing lineage the country had ever seen.
That was his story and he was sticking to it.
Daniels gonna wash out. given what we learned from him back in high school, he'll crack. and itll be interesting to see if erik is 2-for-2 on predictions. the fallout with deion would be something to see
Piranha
“You got a minute, coach?”
Coach Xavier looked up from his desk to see Brady standing in the doorway to his office. Pushing the notebook of last-minute adjustments he’d planned for the Ole Miss game on Saturday aside, he waved for the quarterback to come in.
“Yeah, of course. Just looking over some stuff for Saturday. The Rebels fans have a habit of getting into players’ heads. We’ll have to shut them up quickly or we’ll be dragging Caesar out of the crowd.”
Brady didn’t find the humor in the coach’s joke but gave a bit of a chuckle nonetheless as he sat down in a chair across from the offensive coordinator.
“What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Brady took a moment to think about his words carefully before continuing. He’d played out the conversation a few times in his head and it didn’t go well in any scenario. The last thing he needed was to be seen as a mentally weak quarterback, “It’s actually about Caesar.”
“Oh, God. He’s not in jail, is he? Wait… I’d already know about that.”
“No, it’s nothing bad that he’s done. I just can’t seem to click with him like I have with the other receivers. I’ve tried my damnedest but the guy acts like a receiver doesn’t need a quarterback to throw the ball to them.”
The coach laughed, “You had to know he was hard to get along with before you committed here. They plaster it all over the sports talk shows.”
“I know, but I’ve always done better as a quarterback when I have had some type of cordial relationship both on and off the field with my receivers. You know a guy won’t let you down when he views you as more than a go-between from one season to the next.”
“You know Daniel Jackson, don’t you? From down here, plays up at Oklahoma State now?”
“Can’t say that I do. Why?”
“He was the quarterback at Terrebonne for Caesar and Devin’s senior year. They do things a bit different there so he was just getting to high school even though he was a sophomore. Kid was a stuttering, bumbling, fuck-up and Caesar let him know about it every chance he got. Daniel turned out just fine in the end. Won us a state championship and got himself a scholarship to Stillwater. I think he’s the starter now.”
“That’s a nice story and all, coach, but what does that have to do with me?”
The coach laughed, more to himself. He knew the team’s freshman quarterback wasn’t going to understand where he going with the story but it was funny to him that he and Daniel were going through the same situation with Tulane’s mercurial wide receiver. He was willing to bet a year’s salary that Caesar would give the quarterback of whatever NFL team he landed on hell, too.
“Caesar is doing the same thing to you that he did to Daniel. The guy has a problem with change. Got more than couple screws loose, you know? I’m not saying that you are ever going to earn his respect or become his drinking buddy because Daniel never did, not even when he came back from a concussion in the semis to help the team win the championship. But fortunately for you, he’s probably going to go pro after this season so you only have to put up with him for seven or eight more games.”
“Well, if that’s the only reassurance I can get.”
“I don’t really know what you want me to say. If you want reassurance that he’s going to be there to bail you out on third-and-long in the fourth quarter against LSU with an undefeated season on the line then you just need to check the mock drafts before the game. That’s all the kid has been worrying about since I’ve met him. If the experts are starting to move him down it then he’s going to give you 300 percent and put his body on the line every play to keep his YAC up. If he’s still in the top three then well… that’s why quarterbacks are supposed to be the leaders.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, Brady. If all else fails, smack around a bit.”
“I don’t know—“
Xavier laughed again, “I was joking, kid. Just play your game and let him worry about his eventually they’ll sync up and you’ll be fine.”
“What if it takes too long and we get in a tight spot needing a win?”
“That’s why you have Jason. Stop worrying so much, Brady. You’ve been doing well. You’re a true freshman, starting for one of the top teams in the country. Relax and enjoy the ride. You have three more years to worry about going undefeated. No one is going to bite your head off if we don’t win it all year one.”
Brady nodded, taking in his coach’s words. Unfortunately, he knew they weren’t true and only meant to make him feel better. The Tulane fan base would rip his head off if they didn’t win the National Championship. They had been waiting for one for a long time and they wouldn’t be happy to see another chance fall by the wayside.
As he left the office, he knew that relaxing was not going to be something he was going to be able to do until football season was over.
Devin stared at what looked like fried confections on Alessa’s stove. He had been waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing so the two of them could go grab something to eat when he wandered into her kitchen hoping to find something to tide him over. His initial search of the fridge came up empty which led him to the stove. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell what it was.
“Try one,” Alessa called over her shoulder as she walked through the kitchen on her way to the living room.
“I don’t even know what this is,” Devin said, poking at them.
“Don’t poke my food,” she scolded, slapping his hand away, “They are pastels.”
Devin raised an eyebrow, “Pastels? Like pastries? Doesn’t smell like any pastry I’ve ever eaten.”
“Because you’ve probably never eaten these. I bought them today at the pastelaria in Kenner.”
“They have Brazilian food places in the GNO?”
“Yes. Now, try one.”
“Again, I don’t even know what this is.”
“I just told you that they are pastels. They are like small pies. Here,” she picked one up and held it out to him, “Eat.”
Devin looked from the pastel to Alessa and back to the pastel. He had never been a fan of trying different cultures’ foods without first knowing everything that went into making it and all he knew about these “pastels” was that it seemed to be fried.
Of course, he’d also never had a girlfriend from a foreign country asking him to try something from her homeland.
Preparing to have to choke down something that he didn’t like, he took a generous bite of the pastel and was too busy trying to figure out what was inside of it to decide if he liked it.
“It’s goiabada and Minas cheese. We call it Romeu e Julieta,” she explained before he had a chance to ask, “Now, let’s go eat.”
“Good, I’d kill for a hamburger right now.”
“So American,” Alessa said, shaking her head as the two of them headed for the door.
“Hey, just because we don’t have cute names for our food doesn’t make it any less delicious.”
“But hamburgers are so unhealthy. It’s like you are risking a heart attack with every bite you take.”
“Says the person who just got me to eat a fried pie.”
Alessa stopped in the door, “Wait, I forgot my phone in the bedroom.”
He had to stop himself from audibly sighing knowing he would probably have to wait another ten minutes before finally leaving. His stomach was threatening to kick his ass for neglecting it and he wouldn’t exactly blame it.
He stepped out onto the breezeway and leaned onto the railing. Despite Alessa’s apartment being just off the campus, it seemed to a rather quiet complex. He’d actually never met any of her neighbors and at one point began to doubt that anyone else lived there until he heard people coming and going throughout the day. Everyone just seemed to stay to themselves – something that he wasn’t used to after three years living in a college residence hall.
That’s why his head snapped around when he heard a door close down the walkway. And why he had to pick his jaw up when he saw who it was.
“Devin? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew anyone living here.”
Devin cursed his luck. Of course, it would be Rose that he would randomly run into while standing outside of his supposed-to-be-secret girlfriend’s apartment. All he wanted was a damn hamburger, was that so much to ask for?
“Waiting for my… uh, friend,” he nodded to reassure himself that was a good enough despite the statement sounding more like a question than he wanted.
“Well, you know we haven’t talked in a long time so maybe we—“
“O meu Deus, it took much longer than I thought it would to find this thing,” Alessa complained, walking out of her apartment and closing the door behind her. She glanced at Rose but paid her no mind before turning to Devin, “Ready to go?”
“Yep.”
“This is your ‘friend?’ Damn, Devin, you’ve been getting around. Shame on you, using your newfound fame to get girls,” Rose chided with a playful tone in her voice, “Well, when you get back from wherever you are going with your friend here, you should give me a call.”
Devin ran a hand over his face. This girl was going to be the death of him. It seemed like they had the same conversation everytime they crossed paths and no matter how many times he dismissed her, she would come back and try to make a pass at him. He was beginning to think that she suffered from memory loss from all those headboards her head must have been banged into.
He opened his mouth to run through the script once more but he was beaten to the punch by the fiery Brazilian behind him.
“I wouldn’t recommend waiting for that call, piranha,” Alessa snapped.
“Did you just call me a piranha? Nothing is wrong with my teeth, honey.”
“Not yet,” she smiled, “I don’t know how Mrs. Dupre down at the end of the walk feels about you coming here to screw her husband but you can just go ahead and get rid of any thoughts about doing anything with my boyfriend. Now run along, bruxa.”
“What does that even mean? I don’t speak Spanish,” Rose practically whined.
Alessa shrugged, “Neither do I. Tenha um bom dia,” she laughed at Rose’s confused look before walking away with Devin in tow.
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about us, yet?” Devin asked quietly.
“Well, that was before that cachorra opened her mouth.”
“Insults sound so much worse in Portuguese.”
“Because they are. English doesn’t do colorful language justice. You just remember that I was a very selfish child and I’m not a fan of sharing,” Alessa said seriously.
“Noted but who is Mr. Dupre?”
That got a laugh out of Alessa, “An old man who lives a few apartments down from me with his wife. I’ve seen Senhorita Cachorra back there sneaking around with him behind his wife’s back. He has to be at least fifty.”
“Must be rich,” Devin laughed.
“Hardly. He drives a nice car but I’m pretty sure he leases it but if he wants to have sex with girls young enough to be his daughter, who am I to judge, right?”
“Thanks for making me lose my appetite.”
“Good, that means I can find a place with some real food and not… hamburgers.”
“I’ll get you to like hamburgers if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I’ll let you think that’s possible for now,” Alessa laughed, “It might take you years to even convince me to try half of the things you eat especially that pizza with all the toppings.”
Devin took a moment to think about the real weight of her words. He was at a point in his life when he needed to begin planning for the future. Did he want to take her challenge?
“You got a minute, coach?”
Coach Xavier looked up from his desk to see Brady standing in the doorway to his office. Pushing the notebook of last-minute adjustments he’d planned for the Ole Miss game on Saturday aside, he waved for the quarterback to come in.
“Yeah, of course. Just looking over some stuff for Saturday. The Rebels fans have a habit of getting into players’ heads. We’ll have to shut them up quickly or we’ll be dragging Caesar out of the crowd.”
Brady didn’t find the humor in the coach’s joke but gave a bit of a chuckle nonetheless as he sat down in a chair across from the offensive coordinator.
“What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Brady took a moment to think about his words carefully before continuing. He’d played out the conversation a few times in his head and it didn’t go well in any scenario. The last thing he needed was to be seen as a mentally weak quarterback, “It’s actually about Caesar.”
“Oh, God. He’s not in jail, is he? Wait… I’d already know about that.”
“No, it’s nothing bad that he’s done. I just can’t seem to click with him like I have with the other receivers. I’ve tried my damnedest but the guy acts like a receiver doesn’t need a quarterback to throw the ball to them.”
The coach laughed, “You had to know he was hard to get along with before you committed here. They plaster it all over the sports talk shows.”
“I know, but I’ve always done better as a quarterback when I have had some type of cordial relationship both on and off the field with my receivers. You know a guy won’t let you down when he views you as more than a go-between from one season to the next.”
“You know Daniel Jackson, don’t you? From down here, plays up at Oklahoma State now?”
“Can’t say that I do. Why?”
“He was the quarterback at Terrebonne for Caesar and Devin’s senior year. They do things a bit different there so he was just getting to high school even though he was a sophomore. Kid was a stuttering, bumbling, fuck-up and Caesar let him know about it every chance he got. Daniel turned out just fine in the end. Won us a state championship and got himself a scholarship to Stillwater. I think he’s the starter now.”
“That’s a nice story and all, coach, but what does that have to do with me?”
The coach laughed, more to himself. He knew the team’s freshman quarterback wasn’t going to understand where he going with the story but it was funny to him that he and Daniel were going through the same situation with Tulane’s mercurial wide receiver. He was willing to bet a year’s salary that Caesar would give the quarterback of whatever NFL team he landed on hell, too.
“Caesar is doing the same thing to you that he did to Daniel. The guy has a problem with change. Got more than couple screws loose, you know? I’m not saying that you are ever going to earn his respect or become his drinking buddy because Daniel never did, not even when he came back from a concussion in the semis to help the team win the championship. But fortunately for you, he’s probably going to go pro after this season so you only have to put up with him for seven or eight more games.”
“Well, if that’s the only reassurance I can get.”
“I don’t really know what you want me to say. If you want reassurance that he’s going to be there to bail you out on third-and-long in the fourth quarter against LSU with an undefeated season on the line then you just need to check the mock drafts before the game. That’s all the kid has been worrying about since I’ve met him. If the experts are starting to move him down it then he’s going to give you 300 percent and put his body on the line every play to keep his YAC up. If he’s still in the top three then well… that’s why quarterbacks are supposed to be the leaders.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, Brady. If all else fails, smack around a bit.”
“I don’t know—“
Xavier laughed again, “I was joking, kid. Just play your game and let him worry about his eventually they’ll sync up and you’ll be fine.”
“What if it takes too long and we get in a tight spot needing a win?”
“That’s why you have Jason. Stop worrying so much, Brady. You’ve been doing well. You’re a true freshman, starting for one of the top teams in the country. Relax and enjoy the ride. You have three more years to worry about going undefeated. No one is going to bite your head off if we don’t win it all year one.”
Brady nodded, taking in his coach’s words. Unfortunately, he knew they weren’t true and only meant to make him feel better. The Tulane fan base would rip his head off if they didn’t win the National Championship. They had been waiting for one for a long time and they wouldn’t be happy to see another chance fall by the wayside.
As he left the office, he knew that relaxing was not going to be something he was going to be able to do until football season was over.
Devin stared at what looked like fried confections on Alessa’s stove. He had been waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing so the two of them could go grab something to eat when he wandered into her kitchen hoping to find something to tide him over. His initial search of the fridge came up empty which led him to the stove. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell what it was.
“Try one,” Alessa called over her shoulder as she walked through the kitchen on her way to the living room.
“I don’t even know what this is,” Devin said, poking at them.
“Don’t poke my food,” she scolded, slapping his hand away, “They are pastels.”
Devin raised an eyebrow, “Pastels? Like pastries? Doesn’t smell like any pastry I’ve ever eaten.”
“Because you’ve probably never eaten these. I bought them today at the pastelaria in Kenner.”
“They have Brazilian food places in the GNO?”
“Yes. Now, try one.”
“Again, I don’t even know what this is.”
“I just told you that they are pastels. They are like small pies. Here,” she picked one up and held it out to him, “Eat.”
Devin looked from the pastel to Alessa and back to the pastel. He had never been a fan of trying different cultures’ foods without first knowing everything that went into making it and all he knew about these “pastels” was that it seemed to be fried.
Of course, he’d also never had a girlfriend from a foreign country asking him to try something from her homeland.
Preparing to have to choke down something that he didn’t like, he took a generous bite of the pastel and was too busy trying to figure out what was inside of it to decide if he liked it.
“It’s goiabada and Minas cheese. We call it Romeu e Julieta,” she explained before he had a chance to ask, “Now, let’s go eat.”
“Good, I’d kill for a hamburger right now.”
“So American,” Alessa said, shaking her head as the two of them headed for the door.
“Hey, just because we don’t have cute names for our food doesn’t make it any less delicious.”
“But hamburgers are so unhealthy. It’s like you are risking a heart attack with every bite you take.”
“Says the person who just got me to eat a fried pie.”
Alessa stopped in the door, “Wait, I forgot my phone in the bedroom.”
He had to stop himself from audibly sighing knowing he would probably have to wait another ten minutes before finally leaving. His stomach was threatening to kick his ass for neglecting it and he wouldn’t exactly blame it.
He stepped out onto the breezeway and leaned onto the railing. Despite Alessa’s apartment being just off the campus, it seemed to a rather quiet complex. He’d actually never met any of her neighbors and at one point began to doubt that anyone else lived there until he heard people coming and going throughout the day. Everyone just seemed to stay to themselves – something that he wasn’t used to after three years living in a college residence hall.
That’s why his head snapped around when he heard a door close down the walkway. And why he had to pick his jaw up when he saw who it was.
“Devin? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew anyone living here.”
Devin cursed his luck. Of course, it would be Rose that he would randomly run into while standing outside of his supposed-to-be-secret girlfriend’s apartment. All he wanted was a damn hamburger, was that so much to ask for?
“Waiting for my… uh, friend,” he nodded to reassure himself that was a good enough despite the statement sounding more like a question than he wanted.
“Well, you know we haven’t talked in a long time so maybe we—“
“O meu Deus, it took much longer than I thought it would to find this thing,” Alessa complained, walking out of her apartment and closing the door behind her. She glanced at Rose but paid her no mind before turning to Devin, “Ready to go?”
“Yep.”
“This is your ‘friend?’ Damn, Devin, you’ve been getting around. Shame on you, using your newfound fame to get girls,” Rose chided with a playful tone in her voice, “Well, when you get back from wherever you are going with your friend here, you should give me a call.”
Devin ran a hand over his face. This girl was going to be the death of him. It seemed like they had the same conversation everytime they crossed paths and no matter how many times he dismissed her, she would come back and try to make a pass at him. He was beginning to think that she suffered from memory loss from all those headboards her head must have been banged into.
He opened his mouth to run through the script once more but he was beaten to the punch by the fiery Brazilian behind him.
“I wouldn’t recommend waiting for that call, piranha,” Alessa snapped.
“Did you just call me a piranha? Nothing is wrong with my teeth, honey.”
“Not yet,” she smiled, “I don’t know how Mrs. Dupre down at the end of the walk feels about you coming here to screw her husband but you can just go ahead and get rid of any thoughts about doing anything with my boyfriend. Now run along, bruxa.”
“What does that even mean? I don’t speak Spanish,” Rose practically whined.
Alessa shrugged, “Neither do I. Tenha um bom dia,” she laughed at Rose’s confused look before walking away with Devin in tow.
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about us, yet?” Devin asked quietly.
“Well, that was before that cachorra opened her mouth.”
“Insults sound so much worse in Portuguese.”
“Because they are. English doesn’t do colorful language justice. You just remember that I was a very selfish child and I’m not a fan of sharing,” Alessa said seriously.
“Noted but who is Mr. Dupre?”
That got a laugh out of Alessa, “An old man who lives a few apartments down from me with his wife. I’ve seen Senhorita Cachorra back there sneaking around with him behind his wife’s back. He has to be at least fifty.”
“Must be rich,” Devin laughed.
“Hardly. He drives a nice car but I’m pretty sure he leases it but if he wants to have sex with girls young enough to be his daughter, who am I to judge, right?”
“Thanks for making me lose my appetite.”
“Good, that means I can find a place with some real food and not… hamburgers.”
“I’ll get you to like hamburgers if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I’ll let you think that’s possible for now,” Alessa laughed, “It might take you years to even convince me to try half of the things you eat especially that pizza with all the toppings.”
Devin took a moment to think about the real weight of her words. He was at a point in his life when he needed to begin planning for the future. Did he want to take her challenge?
woy1509
Star
- Jul 24, 2008
- 20,308
- 3,655
Updates? On back to back days? Nonsense!
Alessa is definitely my favorite female character of yours, surpassing Kaley. The way she chewed out Rose was priceless.
You keep teasing Caesar sticking around for his senior year, but I'll believe it when I see it. Besides Marcus, you haven't been big on extending the story an extra year.
Alessa is definitely my favorite female character of yours, surpassing Kaley. The way she chewed out Rose was priceless.
You keep teasing Caesar sticking around for his senior year, but I'll believe it when I see it. Besides Marcus, you haven't been big on extending the story an extra year.
well shit i guess now i need to update...
id still rank kaley first on seniority alone but alessa is climbing the charts. and i dont see any scenario where brady and caesar get on the same page. caesar has too much on his plate at the moment to be bothered to try and accept brady into the fold
id still rank kaley first on seniority alone but alessa is climbing the charts. and i dont see any scenario where brady and caesar get on the same page. caesar has too much on his plate at the moment to be bothered to try and accept brady into the fold
A Little Different
“So are you visiting Louisiana or coming home?” the taxi driver asked Julie as he merged into the dense New Orleans traffic.
“Visiting. My son’s grandparents live in Houma,” Julie answered her voice soft in hopes that she wouldn’t wake Ronnie. He’d surprisingly slept through the plane landing and she wouldn’t be too bothered if he happened to sleep through the long taxi ride from New Orleans to Houma.
“Your husband didn’t travel with you? I don’t think I’d let a pretty lil’ thing like you fly alone.”
“Oh, I wasn’t married to his father,” she said before hurriedly adding, “He died in Korea.”
The driver’s eyes widened, “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“It’s fine,” she silenced him with a forced smile.
As sad as it was, she’d gotten used to the whole pity thing. Someone would mention Ronnie’s father and she’d have to explain the situation before they could come to the conclusion of Ron being an absentee dad.
The looks she got in her hometown were much worse as those people knew she’d also been a soldier. They probably just felt bad for the baby. One parent in the dirt and another one who was probably on the verge of a psychotic episode. The kid was going to have a tough life.
Those looks made deciding to come to Louisiana for a few weeks much easier. Only Caesar and Ron’s mother really knew her. If things got to be too much, it’d be easy to use the generic “his father travels a lot” or “he fly down a week or two before” excuses. Of course, they sounded like bullshit but she doubted she’d get those same commiserative glances at the supermarket.
Unfortunately, she was forced to change her plans. Tulane’s campus and Caesar was supposed to be her first stop in New Orleans but Tulane’s football team had already left for their game in Oxford, Mississippi the next day.
Over the past few months, she’d began to feel the urge to check on Caesar on a fairly regular basis to ensure that he was facing his demons. Maybe it was Ron pulling the strings from the great beyond and using her as a go-between to his friend but she wasn’t religious and she was pretty sure Caesar wasn’t either so that was unlikely.
Besides, she was still skiddish around Ron’s mother. Caesar had a way of attracting people’s attention, positively or negatively, no matter how far he was from them. All it took was one mention of him and people would go off on tangents going through all the things he’d done that no one agreed with.
Julie planned to employ that tactic when things got too awkward with Mrs. DeRossi. Some would call that cowardly but being a Marine didn’t prepare her for facing anyone’s parents post-child birth. Mrs. DeRossi was almost scarier than any DPRK soldier she’d come across.
Julie let out an exhausted yawn after reminding the driver of the address to Ron's mother house. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until the cab pulled away from the airport. It wasn't even that long of a flight but all the nerves of seeing Ron's mother again must have drained her. That and keeping Ronnie quiet during the flight.
She felt her son gently prodding her face but she was struggling to keep her eyes open. She weakly smiled as her eyes shut and the soft pokes reminded her of Ron trying to stir her overseas. He used to let her sleep for as long as he could, they both knew how hard sleep was to come by. But he used to wake her up in the most gentle way, the sweetest way possible.
“Ma’am?” she heard the driver’s voice and stirred slightly. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake, “We’re in Houma. I think the lil’ one here has been trying to wake you up for a while now.”
Julie looked down at Ronnie who had continued to poke her cheek. Smiling at him, she gave him a poke of her own causing him to giggle.
“Sorry if I held you up,” she apologized before gently getting out the car for Ronnie’s sake. She noticed her bags were already on the steps and immediately felt bad, “How much do I owe you?”
The man waved his hand, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”
“I couldn’t do that. This had to be at least a $200 cab ride.”
“I couldn’t take your money, ma’am. My dad was a soldier and he taught me to always respect our veterans especially those who fought. Think of it as me respecting your son’s father.”
She smiled weakly. If he only knew that she was a veteran as well, he’d probably be trying to give her the amount it cost to ferry her from New Orleans to Houma. She nodded, knowing that arguing with the man would be futile, and muttered a thank you.
“No, thank you,” he replied and started for the front of the car, “Take care, ma’am.”
Julie waited until he had pulled out of the long, winding driveway and sighed, “That’s how you be all Southernly, Ronnie,” she whispered to the baby in her arms who had moved from poking her in the face to tugging on her hair.
“Julie?”
The former soldier turned to see Mrs. DeRossi descending the steps, prim and proper as usual, but she froze mid-step when she saw her grandchild. Finishing her stride, she brought her hand to her mouth and choked back a sob.
Julie closed the distance between them and fought her hair away from the little boy before turning him towards the older woman, “Ronnie, this is your grandmother.” She knew he didn’t understand her, but it was more for Mrs. DeRossi’s sake.
“He looks just like Ron did,” Mrs. DeRossi whispered, “C- can I hold him?”
“Of course,” Julie answered quickly, handing Ronnie to his grandmother.
She was able to breathe easy when he didn’t start wailing in unfamiliar arms for first time and instead continued his current obsession with hair. A sad smile spread across Mrs. DeRossi’s face as the mirror image of her late son batted at her perfectly styled hair and her expensive earrings.
“He’s beautiful,” she said to Julie, “Let’s go inside and get you two something to eat.”
Julie smiled and nodded before following Mrs. DeRossi into the house. If she knew babies were the fastest way to any woman’s heart, she might have carried around a loaner during her high school days.
Jokes aside, she was happy that Ron’s mother was finally able to spend time with her grandson.
Kaley could feel her mind slowly starting to fry as she walked out into the hallway. She tried to look at some of the others leaving the class but they all seemed fine, under control. Kaley rolled her eyes in annoyance as she walked outside and tried to mentally schedule out her week on her way back to her car.
There was the paper due Friday, a group project meeting tomorrow that she still hadn't started, Sophie wanted a wine night with the girls, she still needed to buy groceries so she wouldn't starve, and of course she had to find time to study for the LSAT.
And that wasn't even including her social calendar with the sorority girls and philanthropy events. The president had already warned her that she was falling behind on her hours. Not that she wouldn't mind having to drop the sorority. Having to constantly buy the letters and dues was starting to hit her bank account hard and it's not like she was best friends with any of them outside of Alison… and Sophie.
Kaley raised her eyebrows at thought. So drop it? Why not? It would take something off-
"What the fuck?!"
Kaley was still trying to catch her breath after she was shoved to the ground and checked her hands for scrapes.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you heard me."
"Obviously not!" Kaley shouted as she quickly snatched up her papers.
"My bad, are you okay?"
Kaley held back the intense urge to glare at the boy bending down to help her out. At least he was nice enough to stop and help her out. Probably more than what most people would do.
"I'll live," Kaley finally conceded. "Can't walk like the rest of us?"
The boy grinned sheepishly as he looked back at his skateboard. "It's faster."
"Clearly."
He handed over the final paper. "Here you go."
"Thanks."
"And, you know, again, sorry."
Kaley sighed. "It's fine."
He scratched his shaggy black hair and awkwardly stood there as the two of them stood up. "You ever ride one before?"
"A skateboard? No."
"It's a lot of fun."
"I'll have to take your word for it."
He just smiled as he picked it up off the ground. "Maybe I'll teach you one day."
"Is that right?" Kaley asked, half-amused.
"Sure. I taught my little sister. I'm sure I can teach you. If you're interested that is?"
Kaley smirked as she stared at the boy. "That the best you got?"
"What do you mean?"
"Surely, you have a better pick-up line than that."
"Totally legit offer. I love converting people to skateboarders. Getting your number would just a bonus."
Kaley bit her cheek before finally nodding her head. "I have no plans of ever getting on a skateboard."
"You're missing out."
"Missing out on broken bones? Can’t say that bothers me too much.”
“At least, let me try to convince you it’s not as scary as it looks.”
“You really need to work on your lines, pal.”
“Well, you are still talking to me so it must be working a little, right? How about this then? We can exchange numbers since you assume that’s all I want but I’ll get you on this skateboard if it takes me months to convince you. In the meantime, we could go grab a bite to eat or something,” the boy said, throwing in a lop-sided grin for good measure, “Strictly as friends though, I wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea about me.”
Kaley took a moment to give the boy another once over. He was nothing like the guys she normally ended up with. His clothes looked cheap and definitely weren’t pressed, his shaggy hair hung in his face and he definitely didn’t look like someone who played any sports – unless you counted skateboarding as a sport. He looked like a card-carrying member of the movement trying to go back to the days when college kids were expected to be free-spirited, pseudo-hippies, looking for world peace and writing screen plays.
Not exactly her cup of tea but maybe that’s exactly what she needed. A break from the norm would probably do her some good and God knows that she was long due a bit of a break.
She sighed, “Fine, but I’m not getting on that death machine.”
“We’ll see about that. Name’s Cody, by the way,” he said, taking a beat-up old smartphone out of his pocket.
“Kaley,” she answer back, almost cringing at the condition of his phone. She had definitely become too accustomed to seeing Caesar going through the latest technology almost as quickly as he went through women.
“I know. Saw it on your papers, there,” he nodded to the stack of papers in her arms, “So, what’s your number?”
She rattled off her number and watched as it took him a few attempts to punch it in with the ancient phone being less than cooperative. With the promise that he’d text her, he hopped on his skateboard and rode off.
Different. That’s what she had to convince herself she would be going for when he inevitable made a move to do more than “teach her how to skateboard.” Luckily, she already had an out if she decided that she really didn’t want to hang out with him…
He was different.
Shaking her head, she started to make her way to her car once more, hoping that she wouldn’t run into any more skateboarders on the way. Studying for the LSAT would be enough to kill her. She didn’t need to have her neck broken by a run away skater.
“So are you visiting Louisiana or coming home?” the taxi driver asked Julie as he merged into the dense New Orleans traffic.
“Visiting. My son’s grandparents live in Houma,” Julie answered her voice soft in hopes that she wouldn’t wake Ronnie. He’d surprisingly slept through the plane landing and she wouldn’t be too bothered if he happened to sleep through the long taxi ride from New Orleans to Houma.
“Your husband didn’t travel with you? I don’t think I’d let a pretty lil’ thing like you fly alone.”
“Oh, I wasn’t married to his father,” she said before hurriedly adding, “He died in Korea.”
The driver’s eyes widened, “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“It’s fine,” she silenced him with a forced smile.
As sad as it was, she’d gotten used to the whole pity thing. Someone would mention Ronnie’s father and she’d have to explain the situation before they could come to the conclusion of Ron being an absentee dad.
The looks she got in her hometown were much worse as those people knew she’d also been a soldier. They probably just felt bad for the baby. One parent in the dirt and another one who was probably on the verge of a psychotic episode. The kid was going to have a tough life.
Those looks made deciding to come to Louisiana for a few weeks much easier. Only Caesar and Ron’s mother really knew her. If things got to be too much, it’d be easy to use the generic “his father travels a lot” or “he fly down a week or two before” excuses. Of course, they sounded like bullshit but she doubted she’d get those same commiserative glances at the supermarket.
Unfortunately, she was forced to change her plans. Tulane’s campus and Caesar was supposed to be her first stop in New Orleans but Tulane’s football team had already left for their game in Oxford, Mississippi the next day.
Over the past few months, she’d began to feel the urge to check on Caesar on a fairly regular basis to ensure that he was facing his demons. Maybe it was Ron pulling the strings from the great beyond and using her as a go-between to his friend but she wasn’t religious and she was pretty sure Caesar wasn’t either so that was unlikely.
Besides, she was still skiddish around Ron’s mother. Caesar had a way of attracting people’s attention, positively or negatively, no matter how far he was from them. All it took was one mention of him and people would go off on tangents going through all the things he’d done that no one agreed with.
Julie planned to employ that tactic when things got too awkward with Mrs. DeRossi. Some would call that cowardly but being a Marine didn’t prepare her for facing anyone’s parents post-child birth. Mrs. DeRossi was almost scarier than any DPRK soldier she’d come across.
Julie let out an exhausted yawn after reminding the driver of the address to Ron's mother house. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until the cab pulled away from the airport. It wasn't even that long of a flight but all the nerves of seeing Ron's mother again must have drained her. That and keeping Ronnie quiet during the flight.
She felt her son gently prodding her face but she was struggling to keep her eyes open. She weakly smiled as her eyes shut and the soft pokes reminded her of Ron trying to stir her overseas. He used to let her sleep for as long as he could, they both knew how hard sleep was to come by. But he used to wake her up in the most gentle way, the sweetest way possible.
“Ma’am?” she heard the driver’s voice and stirred slightly. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake, “We’re in Houma. I think the lil’ one here has been trying to wake you up for a while now.”
Julie looked down at Ronnie who had continued to poke her cheek. Smiling at him, she gave him a poke of her own causing him to giggle.
“Sorry if I held you up,” she apologized before gently getting out the car for Ronnie’s sake. She noticed her bags were already on the steps and immediately felt bad, “How much do I owe you?”
The man waved his hand, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”
“I couldn’t do that. This had to be at least a $200 cab ride.”
“I couldn’t take your money, ma’am. My dad was a soldier and he taught me to always respect our veterans especially those who fought. Think of it as me respecting your son’s father.”
She smiled weakly. If he only knew that she was a veteran as well, he’d probably be trying to give her the amount it cost to ferry her from New Orleans to Houma. She nodded, knowing that arguing with the man would be futile, and muttered a thank you.
“No, thank you,” he replied and started for the front of the car, “Take care, ma’am.”
Julie waited until he had pulled out of the long, winding driveway and sighed, “That’s how you be all Southernly, Ronnie,” she whispered to the baby in her arms who had moved from poking her in the face to tugging on her hair.
“Julie?”
The former soldier turned to see Mrs. DeRossi descending the steps, prim and proper as usual, but she froze mid-step when she saw her grandchild. Finishing her stride, she brought her hand to her mouth and choked back a sob.
Julie closed the distance between them and fought her hair away from the little boy before turning him towards the older woman, “Ronnie, this is your grandmother.” She knew he didn’t understand her, but it was more for Mrs. DeRossi’s sake.
“He looks just like Ron did,” Mrs. DeRossi whispered, “C- can I hold him?”
“Of course,” Julie answered quickly, handing Ronnie to his grandmother.
She was able to breathe easy when he didn’t start wailing in unfamiliar arms for first time and instead continued his current obsession with hair. A sad smile spread across Mrs. DeRossi’s face as the mirror image of her late son batted at her perfectly styled hair and her expensive earrings.
“He’s beautiful,” she said to Julie, “Let’s go inside and get you two something to eat.”
Julie smiled and nodded before following Mrs. DeRossi into the house. If she knew babies were the fastest way to any woman’s heart, she might have carried around a loaner during her high school days.
Jokes aside, she was happy that Ron’s mother was finally able to spend time with her grandson.
Kaley could feel her mind slowly starting to fry as she walked out into the hallway. She tried to look at some of the others leaving the class but they all seemed fine, under control. Kaley rolled her eyes in annoyance as she walked outside and tried to mentally schedule out her week on her way back to her car.
There was the paper due Friday, a group project meeting tomorrow that she still hadn't started, Sophie wanted a wine night with the girls, she still needed to buy groceries so she wouldn't starve, and of course she had to find time to study for the LSAT.
And that wasn't even including her social calendar with the sorority girls and philanthropy events. The president had already warned her that she was falling behind on her hours. Not that she wouldn't mind having to drop the sorority. Having to constantly buy the letters and dues was starting to hit her bank account hard and it's not like she was best friends with any of them outside of Alison… and Sophie.
Kaley raised her eyebrows at thought. So drop it? Why not? It would take something off-
"What the fuck?!"
Kaley was still trying to catch her breath after she was shoved to the ground and checked her hands for scrapes.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you heard me."
"Obviously not!" Kaley shouted as she quickly snatched up her papers.
"My bad, are you okay?"
Kaley held back the intense urge to glare at the boy bending down to help her out. At least he was nice enough to stop and help her out. Probably more than what most people would do.
"I'll live," Kaley finally conceded. "Can't walk like the rest of us?"
The boy grinned sheepishly as he looked back at his skateboard. "It's faster."
"Clearly."
He handed over the final paper. "Here you go."
"Thanks."
"And, you know, again, sorry."
Kaley sighed. "It's fine."
He scratched his shaggy black hair and awkwardly stood there as the two of them stood up. "You ever ride one before?"
"A skateboard? No."
"It's a lot of fun."
"I'll have to take your word for it."
He just smiled as he picked it up off the ground. "Maybe I'll teach you one day."
"Is that right?" Kaley asked, half-amused.
"Sure. I taught my little sister. I'm sure I can teach you. If you're interested that is?"
Kaley smirked as she stared at the boy. "That the best you got?"
"What do you mean?"
"Surely, you have a better pick-up line than that."
"Totally legit offer. I love converting people to skateboarders. Getting your number would just a bonus."
Kaley bit her cheek before finally nodding her head. "I have no plans of ever getting on a skateboard."
"You're missing out."
"Missing out on broken bones? Can’t say that bothers me too much.”
“At least, let me try to convince you it’s not as scary as it looks.”
“You really need to work on your lines, pal.”
“Well, you are still talking to me so it must be working a little, right? How about this then? We can exchange numbers since you assume that’s all I want but I’ll get you on this skateboard if it takes me months to convince you. In the meantime, we could go grab a bite to eat or something,” the boy said, throwing in a lop-sided grin for good measure, “Strictly as friends though, I wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea about me.”
Kaley took a moment to give the boy another once over. He was nothing like the guys she normally ended up with. His clothes looked cheap and definitely weren’t pressed, his shaggy hair hung in his face and he definitely didn’t look like someone who played any sports – unless you counted skateboarding as a sport. He looked like a card-carrying member of the movement trying to go back to the days when college kids were expected to be free-spirited, pseudo-hippies, looking for world peace and writing screen plays.
Not exactly her cup of tea but maybe that’s exactly what she needed. A break from the norm would probably do her some good and God knows that she was long due a bit of a break.
She sighed, “Fine, but I’m not getting on that death machine.”
“We’ll see about that. Name’s Cody, by the way,” he said, taking a beat-up old smartphone out of his pocket.
“Kaley,” she answer back, almost cringing at the condition of his phone. She had definitely become too accustomed to seeing Caesar going through the latest technology almost as quickly as he went through women.
“I know. Saw it on your papers, there,” he nodded to the stack of papers in her arms, “So, what’s your number?”
She rattled off her number and watched as it took him a few attempts to punch it in with the ancient phone being less than cooperative. With the promise that he’d text her, he hopped on his skateboard and rode off.
Different. That’s what she had to convince herself she would be going for when he inevitable made a move to do more than “teach her how to skateboard.” Luckily, she already had an out if she decided that she really didn’t want to hang out with him…
He was different.
Shaking her head, she started to make her way to her car once more, hoping that she wouldn’t run into any more skateboarders on the way. Studying for the LSAT would be enough to kill her. She didn’t need to have her neck broken by a run away skater.
DEM FEELS. Rons mom was pretty hospitable last time iirc, so hopefully thisll be a nice break for julie and baby ronnie. and hopefully Cody sticks around for a bit. Kaleys needs to have a little fun and let loose
![[face_tongue]](https://cdn.statically.io/img/www.ignboards.com/styles/ign/ign/smilies/classic/stickouttongue.gif "Stick Out Tongue [face_tongue]")
Anxiously awaiting more BC...
Past and Present
“Are you going to say something, Caesar? You called me saying that you had an emergency and needed to speak with me but if you aren’t going to say anything, I’d really like to get home for the night.”
Caesar stared at Dr. Naquin and shook his head. It was true that he had called her and practically begged for her to see him outside of one of his scheduled sessions. After the team’s last trip to Oxford, he was feeling especially down. The 48-3 win did nothing to calm him as he could only look back and see himself bordering on the line between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
It wasn’t one of his strongest moments but the constant night terrors had begun to take their toll on him. He felt like he was more exhausted than he had been all season after their game with Ole Miss and it would only get worse as the season progressed.
And he didn’t need to be going into games at less than 100% with the professional scouts starting to fill out their teams’ draft boards.
“This isn’t exactly easy to say,” Caesar admitted.
“I’ve come to expect everything to be difficult with you, Caesar. To be honest, I think that on some subconscious level you get enjoyment out of being a difficult person.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow. The woman was being a bit more snippy than usual but that’s something that would have to wait for another conversation, “I can’t sleep.”
“Why?”
“I have these… I guess you would call them dreams, but I’m not talking about Peter Pan flying through the fucking air dreams. These feel real even after I wake up and they scare the shit out of me.”
“You are going to have to describe them otherwise I won’t be able to help you figure them out.”
He took a deep breath, still a bit reluctant to divulge the events of the recurring dreams he was having. Being the person that he was, he knew it was going to be difficult for him to tell the psychologist about them and not feel like the world’s biggest bitch.
“Well, you see, they usually follow the same pattern. I wake up... like in the dream, then I go through a day as usual and somewhere through the dream, someone decides they don’t want anything to do with me and that’s normally when I wake up sweating buck shots and feeling like I’m having a panic attack.”
“Which should make perfect sense if you listened to anything that I’ve told you.”
“What?”
“You have BPD, Caesar. When it comes to losing loved ones in your life, it’s 10, 20, 100 times worse than it is for anyone else. Not to mention, you hold onto feelings for much longer. In this case, you don’t get the realization that it was a dream fast enough as to not feel like that really happened.”
“Okay, so how do I get rid of the dreams?”
“I like to think that dreams are our mind’s way of telling us that we need to verbalize our issues.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing when I come talk to you?”
“Have you really? It seems like I do a whole lot of talking and you do a whole lot of scowling but there isn’t much in between.”
“You didn’t say that it required a specific amount of talking only that it required talking. Therefore by your standards, I am ‘verbalizing my issues.’”
“I’m going to admit that you are a tough case, Caesar. You don’t exactly make it easy for someone to help you. With that stubbornness, it makes it hard for me to get through to you and help you understand how to deal with your condition. You’ve basically gone through 20 years of life consciously or sub-consciously doing whatever you can to keep certain people around but other things that you do push those same people away. Your general attitude promotes the very thing that your mind is telling you would be akin to a death sentence. Look at all the relationships in your life. Your friends, girlfriends, family.”
“Damn it, I just want one fucking night of solid sleep. That’s all I want, doc. Give me some breathing techniques or something so I can get eight hours every night without waking up in cold sweats every twenty minutes. We can save the rest of that for another day.”
“That’s the thing. We can’t just save that for another day. You are only going to be able to get past these problems when you finally face them. I’ve been telling you that for a long time but you continue to refuse to accept what I am saying. If you want to sleep, we have to get to talk about the meaning behind these night terrors.”
“Or I can just go to some corner drugstore, buy ten tons of sleeping pills and make sure that I can stay asleep that way.”
“Caesar, you know that self-medicating, much less abusing drugs, isn’t going to help you deal with these problems.”
“But I don’t have the time to sit down and have a good cry every other week just so I can get a few hours of sleep in between. I’m sure you know what sleep-deprivation can do to a person especially one already dealing with mental issues.”
“This seems like classic drug-seeking behavior to me.”
“I. Need. Sleep. If it takes drug to get it then hand me a prescription and we can both be on our merry way.”
“Fine. Even though it goes against every moral fiber I have considering your past drug abuse, I would rather you get any medication from me than you going out and self-medicating with God knows what but it’s very important that you remember the side effects of what I’m going to prescribe you and the effect it would have on your body and mind if you develop an addiction.”
“I think I have enough willpower to avoid drug addiction, doc.”
“That may be true, but there is evidence to the contrary. So, I’m giving you…”
Caesar tuned the woman almost immediately, knowing she was going to drone for much too long about what she was prescribing him and all of the potential side-effects. He didn’t really care about what the drugs were or what they did as long as he could get a good night’s sleep.
“I’m going to give you this trial pack of Zolpimist. I wrote down the dosage instructions. Follow them. It’s not going to work long-term in helping you sleep so we are going to have to get to the bottom of these dreams sooner or later. You can’t keep running from your problems, Caesar.”
He stood, nodded and took the small pack of pills and the prescriptions from Dr. Naquin, “I’ll keep that in mind. I think I’ve taken up enough of your time though.”
Giving her a mocking salute, he left the office and quickly hopped into his car. He ripped the pack of Zolpimist open and popped two of the pills into his mouth, choking them down. He’d worry about solving his problems later. Now, he was just happy that he was going to be able to get some sleep.
“Making yourself at home, are we?”
Devin chuckled as he watched Alessa walked into her bedroom, fresh from a shower. She’d convinced him to eat some traditional Brazilian meal and once the “itis” hit him, he’d taken it upon himself to use her bed to sleep it off. It was only right considering she didn’t have a recliner in her living room for him to properly battle through the “itis.”
“What if I didn’t want you in my bed?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
“Would it help if I told you that I missed you Saturday?”
“I was at the game, Devin. On the sideline, no less.”
“That’s not the same. I couldn’t enjoy your tendency to randomly start speaking in Portuguese during conversations when I have Coach Hall give me an earful over missing an assignment.”
“You caught two interceptions, didn’t you? I don’t think Coach Hall was giving you that much grief over messing up once or twice.”
“Well, I did give up the play that led to Ole Miss getting those three points.”
“Always so humble, Devinho. You were the best player on the field as usual.”
“I was hardly the best player on the field.”
Alessa sat down on the bed next to him, “Come on, you don’t have to be so humble. No one is going to hate you because you accept a little praise every so often. It helps when it’s true. Everyone can see what you are doing and everyone can see that you are the reason that we keep winning games. I know football is a team sport but one person playing at the top of his game can make a huge difference.”
“I’ve never been one for the spotlight. It seems to drive people crazy.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You aren’t the type of person to let it go to your head, but it’s not going to change the person you are.”
Sighing, Devin rolled out of the bed and began aimlessly walking around Alessa’s bedroom. Sometimes, he forgot that she was one of people working to get him selected as a finalist for the Heisman. He was sure that someone somewhere would be willing to vote for him regardless of his position or how popular he was with the fans.
He walked over to her dresser and noticed an old photo stuck into corner of the mirror. Devin plucked it from the mirror for a better look. People had long ago opted for the latest in digital photography and actual prints had fallen by the wayside but this one didn’t look too old… neither did the little girl in it.
She bore a startling resemblance to Alessa. Sister? Cousin? He knew how big she was on family. Old picture of herself?
“Who’s Belinha?” Devin asked, looking at the back of the photo.
She sighed deeply, “She was my daughter. Belinha is a nickname for Isabela.”
“Oh, uh, I’m sorry.”
“She’s not dead, Devin.”
“Oh, well… uh.”
Devin was at a loss for words as he caught himself glancing around the room for anything that might belong to a little girl. He’d been a regular fixture at Alessa’s apartment for the last few months and he’d yet to run into any children or see any proof of children lying around.
“She just turned four last Wednesday. The photograph is from last year.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Alessa.”
“I know that I don’t, but I’m going to do it anyway. We aren’t going to get anywhere in this relationship if there are secrets between us.”
He turned towards her and leaned against the dresser. She was right but that didn’t mean that he felt like he wasn’t going to like what she was going to tell him. The last thing he needed to find out was that she was hiding from her drug lord baby daddy in Louisiana.
“When I was 16, I met a guy. His name was Lucas da Silva Santos. He played futebol at São Paulo’s academy with my cousin. Lucas was pretty famous from a young age because someone had made up a story that São Paulo found him playing in the streets of the city for food. It wasn’t true, but it fit because the only family he had was his brother. João has always been a really caring person and didn’t want Lucas to feel like he didn’t have anyone to go to with his problems. Being in the academy is hard, you know? Anytime away from training they got, João would bring him around the family, try to make him feel like one of us. Obviously, Lucas paid more attention to me than my brothers, João or any of our other cousins. He used to joke that I was the only person in our family who wasn’t too old, too young or too male.”
Devin tried to look anywhere but at her. He could hear in her voice that telling this story made her sad but if she was determined to go through with it, he would have to let her.
“I was young and stupid. He was young and stupid. We got a little too crazy during Carnaval the next year. He and João had just turned 18 and João had just signed his first professional contract so they had a lot to celebrate. I don’t think there is anything worse for a young Roman Catholic girl than to realize she’s pregnant on a Sunday two weeks into Lent. Of course, my family was angry and disappointed. João took some of the blame because I wouldn’t have known Lucas if it weren’t for him. I thought Lucas would be there for me but he got bought by a club in Portugal. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He denied Isabela was his. I think he plays somewhere in the Middle East now.
“I thought about running away to a convent. I couldn’t take care of a baby by myself and I felt like I had let down my family. Abortion clearly wasn’t an option so I decided to put her up for adoption. I found this couple, Jack and Alice, from Canada through an agency. It took them a few days to get from there to São Paulo and I made the mistake of getting attached to Isabela. The nurses left her in my room until Jack and Alice were able to get everything sorted. It’s an open adoption so I do get updates about her every so often but knowing that then didn’t make it any easier when they took her from me or when they told me they would be changing her name to Katherine because Isabela was too ‘Latin’ for Canadians. Maybe one day, she’ll ask about her birth parents but how do you tell a child that she was created by someone too young to properly raise them and someone who didn’t want them? Maybe, she’s better off being Katherine Wilson from British Columbia.”
Devin took a moment to process everything. It wasn’t something he ever expected to hear from Alessa but it was something that he could accept. She’d made a mistake, but made the best she could out of the situation even at a young age. He wasn’t sure that the same could be said for most people.
“You’re not looking at me any differently,” she said after he didn’t say anything for too long.
“Should I be?”
“Most people would especially here in Louisiana. Even though I don’t have her anymore, I’m still technically a former teenage mother.”
He walked over to her, kneeling down in front of her and put his hand over hers, “I’m glad you told me. We all have our pasts. They don’t affect our futures.”
“That’s quite poetic, Devinho.”
“I try,” he shrugged.
“I can’t throw you out, now.”
“Nope, but I’m going to sleep on the couch because your bed is a bit lumpy.”
“E somente quando cumprimentava tu, cuzão.”
“There it is! Random language switch. You’re special to me, too, Alessa,” Devin laughed.
“Are you going to say something, Caesar? You called me saying that you had an emergency and needed to speak with me but if you aren’t going to say anything, I’d really like to get home for the night.”
Caesar stared at Dr. Naquin and shook his head. It was true that he had called her and practically begged for her to see him outside of one of his scheduled sessions. After the team’s last trip to Oxford, he was feeling especially down. The 48-3 win did nothing to calm him as he could only look back and see himself bordering on the line between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
It wasn’t one of his strongest moments but the constant night terrors had begun to take their toll on him. He felt like he was more exhausted than he had been all season after their game with Ole Miss and it would only get worse as the season progressed.
And he didn’t need to be going into games at less than 100% with the professional scouts starting to fill out their teams’ draft boards.
“This isn’t exactly easy to say,” Caesar admitted.
“I’ve come to expect everything to be difficult with you, Caesar. To be honest, I think that on some subconscious level you get enjoyment out of being a difficult person.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow. The woman was being a bit more snippy than usual but that’s something that would have to wait for another conversation, “I can’t sleep.”
“Why?”
“I have these… I guess you would call them dreams, but I’m not talking about Peter Pan flying through the fucking air dreams. These feel real even after I wake up and they scare the shit out of me.”
“You are going to have to describe them otherwise I won’t be able to help you figure them out.”
He took a deep breath, still a bit reluctant to divulge the events of the recurring dreams he was having. Being the person that he was, he knew it was going to be difficult for him to tell the psychologist about them and not feel like the world’s biggest bitch.
“Well, you see, they usually follow the same pattern. I wake up... like in the dream, then I go through a day as usual and somewhere through the dream, someone decides they don’t want anything to do with me and that’s normally when I wake up sweating buck shots and feeling like I’m having a panic attack.”
“Which should make perfect sense if you listened to anything that I’ve told you.”
“What?”
“You have BPD, Caesar. When it comes to losing loved ones in your life, it’s 10, 20, 100 times worse than it is for anyone else. Not to mention, you hold onto feelings for much longer. In this case, you don’t get the realization that it was a dream fast enough as to not feel like that really happened.”
“Okay, so how do I get rid of the dreams?”
“I like to think that dreams are our mind’s way of telling us that we need to verbalize our issues.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing when I come talk to you?”
“Have you really? It seems like I do a whole lot of talking and you do a whole lot of scowling but there isn’t much in between.”
“You didn’t say that it required a specific amount of talking only that it required talking. Therefore by your standards, I am ‘verbalizing my issues.’”
“I’m going to admit that you are a tough case, Caesar. You don’t exactly make it easy for someone to help you. With that stubbornness, it makes it hard for me to get through to you and help you understand how to deal with your condition. You’ve basically gone through 20 years of life consciously or sub-consciously doing whatever you can to keep certain people around but other things that you do push those same people away. Your general attitude promotes the very thing that your mind is telling you would be akin to a death sentence. Look at all the relationships in your life. Your friends, girlfriends, family.”
“Damn it, I just want one fucking night of solid sleep. That’s all I want, doc. Give me some breathing techniques or something so I can get eight hours every night without waking up in cold sweats every twenty minutes. We can save the rest of that for another day.”
“That’s the thing. We can’t just save that for another day. You are only going to be able to get past these problems when you finally face them. I’ve been telling you that for a long time but you continue to refuse to accept what I am saying. If you want to sleep, we have to get to talk about the meaning behind these night terrors.”
“Or I can just go to some corner drugstore, buy ten tons of sleeping pills and make sure that I can stay asleep that way.”
“Caesar, you know that self-medicating, much less abusing drugs, isn’t going to help you deal with these problems.”
“But I don’t have the time to sit down and have a good cry every other week just so I can get a few hours of sleep in between. I’m sure you know what sleep-deprivation can do to a person especially one already dealing with mental issues.”
“This seems like classic drug-seeking behavior to me.”
“I. Need. Sleep. If it takes drug to get it then hand me a prescription and we can both be on our merry way.”
“Fine. Even though it goes against every moral fiber I have considering your past drug abuse, I would rather you get any medication from me than you going out and self-medicating with God knows what but it’s very important that you remember the side effects of what I’m going to prescribe you and the effect it would have on your body and mind if you develop an addiction.”
“I think I have enough willpower to avoid drug addiction, doc.”
“That may be true, but there is evidence to the contrary. So, I’m giving you…”
Caesar tuned the woman almost immediately, knowing she was going to drone for much too long about what she was prescribing him and all of the potential side-effects. He didn’t really care about what the drugs were or what they did as long as he could get a good night’s sleep.
“I’m going to give you this trial pack of Zolpimist. I wrote down the dosage instructions. Follow them. It’s not going to work long-term in helping you sleep so we are going to have to get to the bottom of these dreams sooner or later. You can’t keep running from your problems, Caesar.”
He stood, nodded and took the small pack of pills and the prescriptions from Dr. Naquin, “I’ll keep that in mind. I think I’ve taken up enough of your time though.”
Giving her a mocking salute, he left the office and quickly hopped into his car. He ripped the pack of Zolpimist open and popped two of the pills into his mouth, choking them down. He’d worry about solving his problems later. Now, he was just happy that he was going to be able to get some sleep.
“Making yourself at home, are we?”
Devin chuckled as he watched Alessa walked into her bedroom, fresh from a shower. She’d convinced him to eat some traditional Brazilian meal and once the “itis” hit him, he’d taken it upon himself to use her bed to sleep it off. It was only right considering she didn’t have a recliner in her living room for him to properly battle through the “itis.”
“What if I didn’t want you in my bed?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
“Would it help if I told you that I missed you Saturday?”
“I was at the game, Devin. On the sideline, no less.”
“That’s not the same. I couldn’t enjoy your tendency to randomly start speaking in Portuguese during conversations when I have Coach Hall give me an earful over missing an assignment.”
“You caught two interceptions, didn’t you? I don’t think Coach Hall was giving you that much grief over messing up once or twice.”
“Well, I did give up the play that led to Ole Miss getting those three points.”
“Always so humble, Devinho. You were the best player on the field as usual.”
“I was hardly the best player on the field.”
Alessa sat down on the bed next to him, “Come on, you don’t have to be so humble. No one is going to hate you because you accept a little praise every so often. It helps when it’s true. Everyone can see what you are doing and everyone can see that you are the reason that we keep winning games. I know football is a team sport but one person playing at the top of his game can make a huge difference.”
“I’ve never been one for the spotlight. It seems to drive people crazy.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You aren’t the type of person to let it go to your head, but it’s not going to change the person you are.”
Sighing, Devin rolled out of the bed and began aimlessly walking around Alessa’s bedroom. Sometimes, he forgot that she was one of people working to get him selected as a finalist for the Heisman. He was sure that someone somewhere would be willing to vote for him regardless of his position or how popular he was with the fans.
He walked over to her dresser and noticed an old photo stuck into corner of the mirror. Devin plucked it from the mirror for a better look. People had long ago opted for the latest in digital photography and actual prints had fallen by the wayside but this one didn’t look too old… neither did the little girl in it.
She bore a startling resemblance to Alessa. Sister? Cousin? He knew how big she was on family. Old picture of herself?
“Who’s Belinha?” Devin asked, looking at the back of the photo.
She sighed deeply, “She was my daughter. Belinha is a nickname for Isabela.”
“Oh, uh, I’m sorry.”
“She’s not dead, Devin.”
“Oh, well… uh.”
Devin was at a loss for words as he caught himself glancing around the room for anything that might belong to a little girl. He’d been a regular fixture at Alessa’s apartment for the last few months and he’d yet to run into any children or see any proof of children lying around.
“She just turned four last Wednesday. The photograph is from last year.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Alessa.”
“I know that I don’t, but I’m going to do it anyway. We aren’t going to get anywhere in this relationship if there are secrets between us.”
He turned towards her and leaned against the dresser. She was right but that didn’t mean that he felt like he wasn’t going to like what she was going to tell him. The last thing he needed to find out was that she was hiding from her drug lord baby daddy in Louisiana.
“When I was 16, I met a guy. His name was Lucas da Silva Santos. He played futebol at São Paulo’s academy with my cousin. Lucas was pretty famous from a young age because someone had made up a story that São Paulo found him playing in the streets of the city for food. It wasn’t true, but it fit because the only family he had was his brother. João has always been a really caring person and didn’t want Lucas to feel like he didn’t have anyone to go to with his problems. Being in the academy is hard, you know? Anytime away from training they got, João would bring him around the family, try to make him feel like one of us. Obviously, Lucas paid more attention to me than my brothers, João or any of our other cousins. He used to joke that I was the only person in our family who wasn’t too old, too young or too male.”
Devin tried to look anywhere but at her. He could hear in her voice that telling this story made her sad but if she was determined to go through with it, he would have to let her.
“I was young and stupid. He was young and stupid. We got a little too crazy during Carnaval the next year. He and João had just turned 18 and João had just signed his first professional contract so they had a lot to celebrate. I don’t think there is anything worse for a young Roman Catholic girl than to realize she’s pregnant on a Sunday two weeks into Lent. Of course, my family was angry and disappointed. João took some of the blame because I wouldn’t have known Lucas if it weren’t for him. I thought Lucas would be there for me but he got bought by a club in Portugal. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He denied Isabela was his. I think he plays somewhere in the Middle East now.
“I thought about running away to a convent. I couldn’t take care of a baby by myself and I felt like I had let down my family. Abortion clearly wasn’t an option so I decided to put her up for adoption. I found this couple, Jack and Alice, from Canada through an agency. It took them a few days to get from there to São Paulo and I made the mistake of getting attached to Isabela. The nurses left her in my room until Jack and Alice were able to get everything sorted. It’s an open adoption so I do get updates about her every so often but knowing that then didn’t make it any easier when they took her from me or when they told me they would be changing her name to Katherine because Isabela was too ‘Latin’ for Canadians. Maybe one day, she’ll ask about her birth parents but how do you tell a child that she was created by someone too young to properly raise them and someone who didn’t want them? Maybe, she’s better off being Katherine Wilson from British Columbia.”
Devin took a moment to process everything. It wasn’t something he ever expected to hear from Alessa but it was something that he could accept. She’d made a mistake, but made the best she could out of the situation even at a young age. He wasn’t sure that the same could be said for most people.
“You’re not looking at me any differently,” she said after he didn’t say anything for too long.
“Should I be?”
“Most people would especially here in Louisiana. Even though I don’t have her anymore, I’m still technically a former teenage mother.”
He walked over to her, kneeling down in front of her and put his hand over hers, “I’m glad you told me. We all have our pasts. They don’t affect our futures.”
“That’s quite poetic, Devinho.”
“I try,” he shrugged.
“I can’t throw you out, now.”
“Nope, but I’m going to sleep on the couch because your bed is a bit lumpy.”
“E somente quando cumprimentava tu, cuzão.”
“There it is! Random language switch. You’re special to me, too, Alessa,” Devin laughed.
well clearly Caesar is going to misuse at one point because a night terror slips through and then one of the side effects will cost him a game. hopefully it wont be a big thing or else could mean bad things for mr. caesar. and bad luck for alessa but seems like a fairly mature decision on her part, and devin for not freaking out. and im gonna assume she called him a pussy for not staying in bed with her haha
"And only when he greeted you, asshole."
I don't get it...
I don't get it...
It says: "And just when I complimented you, asshole."
Well at least I got the asshole part right!
And Google Translate says that you're wrong.
And Google Translate says that you're wrong.
Google Translate fails regularly.
Somente and cumprimentar also translate to only and greet though. All in the context.
Somente and cumprimentar also translate to only and greet though. All in the context.
I'm just givin ya shit big guy.
I know, good sir. I just can't miss my chance to take a swipe at Google Translate. Failed a test or two because of it.
Not-Baby Mama Drama
Caesar chuckled quietly to himself at a crude joke from the TV show that was more background noise for Kaley. They both decided to skip their classes today but Kaley expected Caesar to be more entertaining than this. Instead his eyes looked lightly glossed over and he had been sitting on the other end of the couch with his arm crossed for the past few hours except for his periodic trips to the bathroom or to the kitchen to refill a glass of water he’d been nursing. He hadn't said much but then again that had become the norm in recent weeks.
She had Cody to keep her entertained with his quirky texts, but call her old-fashioned, sitting next to someone and not having a conversation with them irked her – especially someone who she shared the amount of history with that she did with Caesar.
“You don’t have practice today?” she asked when the silence became too uncomfortable for her.
“Out with an unspecified injury.”
“Unspecified?”
“Unspecified.”
“Is that some type of football mind game thing?”
“It’s because of the meds I’m taking so it’s listed as unspecified.”
“I guess that makes sense. You do seem a bit out of it. Are they for—“
Caesar’s phone started vibrating and his jerky movements to grab it from the table cut her off. She couldn’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow at his sudden burst of energy. He hadn’t seemed like he was expecting a call before. At least, she didn’t have to feel so bad about texting Cody anymore.
Deciding to give him a bit of privacy, she headed to the kitchen to rummage around for some food but that didn’t keep her from wanting to know who he was talking to after he referred to himself as their “sugar daddy.” Matters weren’t helped much when he rattled off her address and told whoever he was talking to meet him there.
Clearly, he wasn’t talking to a guy with the sugar daddy comment but she wasn’t sure they had rebuilt their relationship enough for her to pry. After all, the last time she tried that, he’d snapped at her. There was definitely no need for a repeat performance of that especially when he was doped up on God knows what.
Besides, she had no claim on Caesar anymore and couldn’t judge him for what he did. She’d just chalk up her concern towards not wanting to see him fuck another girl in Sophie’s bed.
A soft knock at the door drew her eyes to it but she was still deciding if she was willing to let Caesar get some from another girl despite the vague status of his and Sophie’s relationship. By now, he had to have had some type of feelings towards her beyond the ones she created below his waist.
“You going to get that?” Caesar asked her expectantly, “It is your house after all.”
Her suspicions were proven right when she opened the door but her jaw hit the floor when the dark-haired girl on the other side turned around, baby attached to her hip.
“Well, shit,” she mumbled, “Don’t tell me I’ve gotten the wrong address. Caesar Jenkins wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”
“Uh, yeaaaaah. He is,” Kaley said stepping out of the way to make room.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. Caesar had actually gone and knocked some broad up. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise knowing how much he slept around but she didn’t think he could be so stupid. Not only did she not think he was in a position mentally to raise a child but any girl willing to have a kid with him would surely be after one thing—money.
And to think he had the audacity to invite the skank to her house. Sophie might not have had the best reputation but at least she wasn’t trying to entangle him in a web of child support, diapers and baby formula.
She was seething as she closed the door, having half a mind to throw this person out on her ass.
“You’re breaking me, Julie,” Caesar joked with her as he got up to give her a hug and take the baby from her arms, “Who knew that raising a baby is so expensive?”
“I don’t know. Just everyone in the history of man,” Julie shrugged, “Besides, I’m not the one asking for any money. You just keep offering it to me. I’m surprised that you haven’t given me access to your bank account yet.”
“It crosses my mind a few times throughout the day.”
“Before or after these college girls cross your mind?”
“Don’t be jealous, Julie. You’ll always be top three in my life… eh, maybe top five.”
“Always the charmer.”
Teetering on the verge of ripping her hair out, Kaley stalked over to Caesar and tapped on his shoulder a bit more forcefully than she had planned to.
“Caesar. What. The. Fuck?!” Kaley snapped through clenched teeth in an effort to keep her voice down. She wasn’t one to try to scare babies, “Is this some kind of joke?”
“What are you talking about, Kaley?”
Julie gave Kaley a once over before punching Caesar in his arm, “This is Kaley? She’s much prettier than that Gina girl I saw at the supermarket in Houma. You’re a dumbass.”
“She knows Gina? God, do you not have any class?” Kaley asked him.
“I still don’t know what the fuck you are getting at here.”
“That’s because you’re fucking dense.”
“Wait… You don’t… Oh, God,” Julie started laughing as she put the pieces together, “You think that this is his son? I mean, I can see why you would think that. It does look a bit bad.”
“What?” Caesar asked, still confused in his foggy state.
“You mean you’re not…”
“God, no,” Julie took Ronnie back from Caesar, “I met Caesar last year when I got back from Korea. This is Ron DeRossi’s son, Ronnie.”
Kaley paled and slapped a hand over her face, “I am such a fucking idiot. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Back in the shit, Ron told me about you two so I could understand why you would react the way you did. I’m a woman. I know how we can get sometimes.”
“Like fucking banshees,” Caesar mumbled.
“Yeah and I’ll bring your death, alright,” Julie shot back, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how to kill a man with a spoon.”
“Bullshit. You don’t know how to kill anyone with a spoon.”
“You’d bet your life on that?”
Kaley suddenly felt as if she was watching an older sister tease her little brother. There was definitely nothing romantic going on between them. She excused herself to give them time to talk without her hanging around. Hopefully, neither of them would bring up her strange behavior. She and Caesar were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
But she was still glad that he hadn’t actually gone and made a kid. From a friend’s perspective, of course.
“You seem out of it today, Devin.”
Devin glanced up at Champ and shrugged. He didn’t have a leg to stand on in an argument on whether
or not he was too into his head. His thoughts had been all over the place for days since Alessa told him that she had a daughter floating around somewhere in Canada. It weighed on his mind and he wasn’t entirely sure why.
To say he was out of it was an understatement. He’d come close to taking Brady out during practice when the coaches had called to let the quarterback throw and he’d jumped to swat the ball down only to have the freshman step up and narrowly miss being clotheslined. Fortunately, the Illinoisan hadn’t yet developed the clout to throw a fit about almost being de-cleated in practice.
“He’s got his mind on breaking that record next week probably,” Adrian answered for him.
“Or on all the bitches he’ll get when he does,” Champ laughed.
“Honestly, I think I got my fill on ‘bitches’ in my first two years here,” Devin said.
Bobby nodded, “I agree with him. There’s only so many times someone can go for the jersey chasers.”
“This motherfucker gets a consistent piece of pussy and suddenly he’s Good Guy Bobby,” Adrian chuckled, “It wasn’t that long ago that you were complaining that we didn’t take you along to parties and shit, Chambers. Your girlfriend know about all that?”
“’Course she does. Veronika and I have a very honest and open relationship.”
“Veronika with a K? The fucking chick who works for the Hullabaloo? Does their social media shit?” Champ asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
The sophomore safety looked around the group before bursting into laughter, “Yeah, I’ll fucking say you have an ‘open’ relationship.”
“That’s not funny, man. Don’t joke like that. Bobby looks like you just kicked his dog,” Adrian joked as he mockingly put an arm around Bobby’s shoulders, “He’s just fucking with you, man.”
Bobby shrugged Adrian off, “What are you trying to say, Champ?”
“You’re over here talking about jersey chasers and shit but ol’ ‘Veronika with a K’ let me fuck her a few days ago but if that’s something that y’all let happen in y’all ‘open’ relationship then all the power to you.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not,” Champ reached into his pocket for his phone, hit a few buttons and turned it towards Bobby, “I got the shit on camera. Ya’ girl’s a freak.”
“Why the fuck is her leg over her head like that?” Adrian laughed, “Is that… is that a nurse outfit?”
Bobby didn’t find the matter funny as he smacked the phone out of his teammate’s hand and shoved him. Champ raised an eyebrow at the normally docile cornerback who had balled his hands into fists as if he was ready to fight.
“Come on, Bobby. It’s not that bad, man. At least you found out now instead of months from now,” Adrian reasoned.
“No, fuck that,” he shoved Champ again, “We’re supposed to be friends, teammates.”
“It’s not my fault your ‘girlfriend’ takes dick like a pornstar, clown. And if you push me again, I’m going to kick your ass and go fuck that bitch again just for the hell of it.”
Bobby lunged at Champ but Adrian was able to get between the two sophomores. Devin looked up at the fracas and shook his head. They were drawing attention to themselves and he could just imagine what people were thinking as they passed.
“Bobby, Champ. Chill the fuck out,” Devin said, standing up from the bench. They ignored him so he shoved into the middle of them and held them at arm’s length, “I said fucking calm down.”
The two younger players stared each other down for a moment before backing away from one another.
“Champ, that’s fucked up that you did that shit even though the girl seems like a bit of a slut,” Devin started before turning to Bobby, “Bobby, yeah it’s fucked up but he did you a favor like Adrian said. Better you find out now when the video is only her and one guy instead of her and the entire basketball team. Regardless, I’m getting tired of breaking up fights on this fucking team because of who’s fucking who. Keep that shit for the offseason when I don’t have to be bothered with it.”
“Sorry, bro,” Champ mumbled.
“Yeah, sorry man,” Bobby added.
Adrian looked at the two underclassmen and threw his hands up in defeat, “I spend five minutes trying to separate you two and all it takes it Devin saying something? Where’s the damn respect? I might not have caught nine picks in one season but I have at least nine in my career. Damn youngsters.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll pass this duty onto you if you want. You could have the interceptions, too,” Devin laughed dryly as he sat back down.
While he didn’t want to start any more problems, in different circumstances, he would have probably given it to “Veronika with a K.” She was a pretty attractive girl from what he’d seen of her around the campus. Despite not being involved with it, she was definitely one to be acquainted with if you were an athlete looking to get your name out of the Hullabaloo’s sports section for something other than your jumpshot or 40 time.
Hell, she probably didn’t come with any baggage either.
Caesar chuckled quietly to himself at a crude joke from the TV show that was more background noise for Kaley. They both decided to skip their classes today but Kaley expected Caesar to be more entertaining than this. Instead his eyes looked lightly glossed over and he had been sitting on the other end of the couch with his arm crossed for the past few hours except for his periodic trips to the bathroom or to the kitchen to refill a glass of water he’d been nursing. He hadn't said much but then again that had become the norm in recent weeks.
She had Cody to keep her entertained with his quirky texts, but call her old-fashioned, sitting next to someone and not having a conversation with them irked her – especially someone who she shared the amount of history with that she did with Caesar.
“You don’t have practice today?” she asked when the silence became too uncomfortable for her.
“Out with an unspecified injury.”
“Unspecified?”
“Unspecified.”
“Is that some type of football mind game thing?”
“It’s because of the meds I’m taking so it’s listed as unspecified.”
“I guess that makes sense. You do seem a bit out of it. Are they for—“
Caesar’s phone started vibrating and his jerky movements to grab it from the table cut her off. She couldn’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow at his sudden burst of energy. He hadn’t seemed like he was expecting a call before. At least, she didn’t have to feel so bad about texting Cody anymore.
Deciding to give him a bit of privacy, she headed to the kitchen to rummage around for some food but that didn’t keep her from wanting to know who he was talking to after he referred to himself as their “sugar daddy.” Matters weren’t helped much when he rattled off her address and told whoever he was talking to meet him there.
Clearly, he wasn’t talking to a guy with the sugar daddy comment but she wasn’t sure they had rebuilt their relationship enough for her to pry. After all, the last time she tried that, he’d snapped at her. There was definitely no need for a repeat performance of that especially when he was doped up on God knows what.
Besides, she had no claim on Caesar anymore and couldn’t judge him for what he did. She’d just chalk up her concern towards not wanting to see him fuck another girl in Sophie’s bed.
A soft knock at the door drew her eyes to it but she was still deciding if she was willing to let Caesar get some from another girl despite the vague status of his and Sophie’s relationship. By now, he had to have had some type of feelings towards her beyond the ones she created below his waist.
“You going to get that?” Caesar asked her expectantly, “It is your house after all.”
Her suspicions were proven right when she opened the door but her jaw hit the floor when the dark-haired girl on the other side turned around, baby attached to her hip.
“Well, shit,” she mumbled, “Don’t tell me I’ve gotten the wrong address. Caesar Jenkins wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”
“Uh, yeaaaaah. He is,” Kaley said stepping out of the way to make room.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. Caesar had actually gone and knocked some broad up. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise knowing how much he slept around but she didn’t think he could be so stupid. Not only did she not think he was in a position mentally to raise a child but any girl willing to have a kid with him would surely be after one thing—money.
And to think he had the audacity to invite the skank to her house. Sophie might not have had the best reputation but at least she wasn’t trying to entangle him in a web of child support, diapers and baby formula.
She was seething as she closed the door, having half a mind to throw this person out on her ass.
“You’re breaking me, Julie,” Caesar joked with her as he got up to give her a hug and take the baby from her arms, “Who knew that raising a baby is so expensive?”
“I don’t know. Just everyone in the history of man,” Julie shrugged, “Besides, I’m not the one asking for any money. You just keep offering it to me. I’m surprised that you haven’t given me access to your bank account yet.”
“It crosses my mind a few times throughout the day.”
“Before or after these college girls cross your mind?”
“Don’t be jealous, Julie. You’ll always be top three in my life… eh, maybe top five.”
“Always the charmer.”
Teetering on the verge of ripping her hair out, Kaley stalked over to Caesar and tapped on his shoulder a bit more forcefully than she had planned to.
“Caesar. What. The. Fuck?!” Kaley snapped through clenched teeth in an effort to keep her voice down. She wasn’t one to try to scare babies, “Is this some kind of joke?”
“What are you talking about, Kaley?”
Julie gave Kaley a once over before punching Caesar in his arm, “This is Kaley? She’s much prettier than that Gina girl I saw at the supermarket in Houma. You’re a dumbass.”
“She knows Gina? God, do you not have any class?” Kaley asked him.
“I still don’t know what the fuck you are getting at here.”
“That’s because you’re fucking dense.”
“Wait… You don’t… Oh, God,” Julie started laughing as she put the pieces together, “You think that this is his son? I mean, I can see why you would think that. It does look a bit bad.”
“What?” Caesar asked, still confused in his foggy state.
“You mean you’re not…”
“God, no,” Julie took Ronnie back from Caesar, “I met Caesar last year when I got back from Korea. This is Ron DeRossi’s son, Ronnie.”
Kaley paled and slapped a hand over her face, “I am such a fucking idiot. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Back in the shit, Ron told me about you two so I could understand why you would react the way you did. I’m a woman. I know how we can get sometimes.”
“Like fucking banshees,” Caesar mumbled.
“Yeah and I’ll bring your death, alright,” Julie shot back, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how to kill a man with a spoon.”
“Bullshit. You don’t know how to kill anyone with a spoon.”
“You’d bet your life on that?”
Kaley suddenly felt as if she was watching an older sister tease her little brother. There was definitely nothing romantic going on between them. She excused herself to give them time to talk without her hanging around. Hopefully, neither of them would bring up her strange behavior. She and Caesar were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
But she was still glad that he hadn’t actually gone and made a kid. From a friend’s perspective, of course.
“You seem out of it today, Devin.”
Devin glanced up at Champ and shrugged. He didn’t have a leg to stand on in an argument on whether
or not he was too into his head. His thoughts had been all over the place for days since Alessa told him that she had a daughter floating around somewhere in Canada. It weighed on his mind and he wasn’t entirely sure why.
To say he was out of it was an understatement. He’d come close to taking Brady out during practice when the coaches had called to let the quarterback throw and he’d jumped to swat the ball down only to have the freshman step up and narrowly miss being clotheslined. Fortunately, the Illinoisan hadn’t yet developed the clout to throw a fit about almost being de-cleated in practice.
“He’s got his mind on breaking that record next week probably,” Adrian answered for him.
“Or on all the bitches he’ll get when he does,” Champ laughed.
“Honestly, I think I got my fill on ‘bitches’ in my first two years here,” Devin said.
Bobby nodded, “I agree with him. There’s only so many times someone can go for the jersey chasers.”
“This motherfucker gets a consistent piece of pussy and suddenly he’s Good Guy Bobby,” Adrian chuckled, “It wasn’t that long ago that you were complaining that we didn’t take you along to parties and shit, Chambers. Your girlfriend know about all that?”
“’Course she does. Veronika and I have a very honest and open relationship.”
“Veronika with a K? The fucking chick who works for the Hullabaloo? Does their social media shit?” Champ asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
The sophomore safety looked around the group before bursting into laughter, “Yeah, I’ll fucking say you have an ‘open’ relationship.”
“That’s not funny, man. Don’t joke like that. Bobby looks like you just kicked his dog,” Adrian joked as he mockingly put an arm around Bobby’s shoulders, “He’s just fucking with you, man.”
Bobby shrugged Adrian off, “What are you trying to say, Champ?”
“You’re over here talking about jersey chasers and shit but ol’ ‘Veronika with a K’ let me fuck her a few days ago but if that’s something that y’all let happen in y’all ‘open’ relationship then all the power to you.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not,” Champ reached into his pocket for his phone, hit a few buttons and turned it towards Bobby, “I got the shit on camera. Ya’ girl’s a freak.”
“Why the fuck is her leg over her head like that?” Adrian laughed, “Is that… is that a nurse outfit?”
Bobby didn’t find the matter funny as he smacked the phone out of his teammate’s hand and shoved him. Champ raised an eyebrow at the normally docile cornerback who had balled his hands into fists as if he was ready to fight.
“Come on, Bobby. It’s not that bad, man. At least you found out now instead of months from now,” Adrian reasoned.
“No, fuck that,” he shoved Champ again, “We’re supposed to be friends, teammates.”
“It’s not my fault your ‘girlfriend’ takes dick like a pornstar, clown. And if you push me again, I’m going to kick your ass and go fuck that bitch again just for the hell of it.”
Bobby lunged at Champ but Adrian was able to get between the two sophomores. Devin looked up at the fracas and shook his head. They were drawing attention to themselves and he could just imagine what people were thinking as they passed.
“Bobby, Champ. Chill the fuck out,” Devin said, standing up from the bench. They ignored him so he shoved into the middle of them and held them at arm’s length, “I said fucking calm down.”
The two younger players stared each other down for a moment before backing away from one another.
“Champ, that’s fucked up that you did that shit even though the girl seems like a bit of a slut,” Devin started before turning to Bobby, “Bobby, yeah it’s fucked up but he did you a favor like Adrian said. Better you find out now when the video is only her and one guy instead of her and the entire basketball team. Regardless, I’m getting tired of breaking up fights on this fucking team because of who’s fucking who. Keep that shit for the offseason when I don’t have to be bothered with it.”
“Sorry, bro,” Champ mumbled.
“Yeah, sorry man,” Bobby added.
Adrian looked at the two underclassmen and threw his hands up in defeat, “I spend five minutes trying to separate you two and all it takes it Devin saying something? Where’s the damn respect? I might not have caught nine picks in one season but I have at least nine in my career. Damn youngsters.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll pass this duty onto you if you want. You could have the interceptions, too,” Devin laughed dryly as he sat back down.
While he didn’t want to start any more problems, in different circumstances, he would have probably given it to “Veronika with a K.” She was a pretty attractive girl from what he’d seen of her around the campus. Despite not being involved with it, she was definitely one to be acquainted with if you were an athlete looking to get your name out of the Hullabaloo’s sports section for something other than your jumpshot or 40 time.
Hell, she probably didn’t come with any baggage either.
As a friend.... riiiiight. so cody will be gone in about 2 updates. and poor Bobby, thinking he had the woman of his dreams. id say itll cause discontent and problems for the next game but devin seemed to nip that in the bud. he, however, may be a little out of it during practice this week and be off his game come saturday
And the Game Ball Goes To…
“We’re underway here between the Hedges with the undefeated #3 Tulane Green Wave facing off against the 6-2 Georgia Bulldogs. Franklin Bastogne fields it deep for the Bulldogs. This guy already has a couple kickoff returns on the season. He’s looking for a hole and finds out at the 30. The Green Wave are trying to track him down but Bastogne’s hard to catch. A stutter-step leaves Max Longwell grasping at air and Bastogne’s off to the races. Touchdown Georgia right off the opening kick!”
“It looks like Tulane lost their lane discipline on that one and gave Bastogne room to wriggle through and get up to speed. Sometimes, an undefeated team will come into a game sleep-walking and need something to wake them up before it gets too bad, fortunately for the Green Wave, their wake up call came at the beginning of the game.
…
“Brady Rodgers steps on the field and this freshman is having a great season so far for the Green Wave. A shade over 2,000 yards, 19 touchdowns and only 3 interceptions.”
“When you have the receiving corps that this kid has, you come into games a little more confident that they are going to make the plays that you want them to make when you need them to make them. And just for some food for thought, there has only been one week this season where Caesar Jenkins has not been included in the injury report prior to a game. No one knows what the injury is but he’s started every game nonetheless.”
“And he still has Jason Williams on the other side who makes the first down catch for a pickup of seven yards.”
…
“Desmond Smith catches the ball out of the backfield and picks up enough to convert the first down.”
…
“Jenkins on the receiving end of that pass. He has to work to make something out of it but he’s dragged down after a gain of eight.”
“A lesser man would have only gained three or four on that one. He doesn’t look injured to me.”
…
“Rodgers links up with his tight end to pick up another first down.”
…
“Rodgers heaves it down field towards Williams. The sophomore uses some of his speed to open a bit of space between him and Zahir Scott. It’s a perfectly placed pass and there’s no one back deep to stop him! He can walk into the endzone. Touchdown Green Wave! Two big plays from each team and the score is tied at 7 a piece.”
“We might be looking at the makings of a shootout here.”
…
“Matt Crawford tackled in the backfield for a loss of three yards.”
…
“Dennis Hill’s pass is batted down at the line of scrimmage.”
…
“Third down again for the Bulldogs as Devin King brings down Hill for the sack.”
…
“Leon Goretzka lines up for the 49-yard field goal and splits the uprights to give Georgia the lead, 10-7.”
“The Bulldogs have to consider themselves lucky to come away with anything on that drive. Tulane was throwing everything but the kitchen sink at them. A few costly penalties moved them into field goal position and they were able to convert thanks to Goretzka’s big boot.”
…
“Tulane opens this drive with a quick screen to Caesar Jenkins…”
…
Caesar caught the ball cleanly and waited for his blocks to form in front of him. He danced in the backfield for a moment before slipping between Raphael and Willie who’d pushed the Bulldogs defenders far enough apart to create a hole.
He chewed up yardage quickly before he had to stiff-arm an onrushing safety and threw on the breaks when a linebacker dove at his feet to take him down. Starting down the field again, he cut towards the hash marks to avoid the players who were trying to cut him off but one defensive back was able to latch on to his waist and drag him down after a bit of a struggle.
As he rolled to his feet, he noticed that he felt a bit more winded than normal after such a run – probably a product of his lack of practice over the past few weeks.
Waving to the bench to be subbed out, he labored to the sideline for a rest… and an oxygen tank.
…
“A rare sight down on the field, Caesar Jenkins is asking to be taken out after that run.”
“He isn’t running as if he was hurt on the play. Just looks tired. Strange for a player like him in the first quarter to be tired but assuming he’s been missing practice because of those injuries, you have to wonder how his playing shape is holding up.”
“AND ON THE VERY NEXT PLAY DESMOND SMITH BREAKS ONE RIGHT UP THE MIDDLE! THE 30! THE 20! THE 10! TOUCHDOWN GREEN WAVE!”
“And sometimes you forget how explosive this offense really is. You see Jenkins drag himself off the field and then Desmond Smith, who has been having an amazing season taking the place of Tyrone Havas who is now in the NFL, take a handoff a blow the lid off the visiting section with an amazing run that puts the Green Wave back in the lead.”
…
“Another field goal from Georgia and the score is now Tulane 14, Georgia 13.”
…
“The Green Wave offense has really been struggling today without Caesar Jenkins playing as many snaps as he normally does but they are threatening to retake the lead here in the third quarter.”
“A lot of people don’t realize how much of a difference this guy makes when he is on the field. He’s 6’6”, 230 pounds, has a huge wingspan, ridiculous vertical AND runs a 4.4. In the earlier part of the century, they had athletes like Calvin Johnson on the football field, we have Caesar Jenkins. It’s a shame that he hasn’t been able to replicate what he did in his first season with the Green Wave.”
“Well, he’s on the field for this first and goal from the nine yard line. Georgia actually has a pair of players up close to the line of scrimmage to jam him at the line. They know how much Tulane favors the fade in this situation. Rodgers gets the snap, fakes to Jenkins and flicks it out to Smith in the flat behind Jenkins who does a pretty good job at taking two Bulldog defenders down with him and Smith walks into the endzone. Touchdown Tulane. 21-16, Green Wave.”
“That’s certainly one way to make use of your big receiver. Tell him to go out there and fall down on two defenders. He is known as a pretty good blocker too.”
…
Devin watched the quarterback’s eyes as he backpedaled in his zone. He knew there wasn’t much chance Dennis Hill was going to go to his side of the field. Georgia’s signal-caller had, as every other quarterback recently had, avoided throwing to his side of the field at all costs. He wouldn’t be surprised if teams stopped throwing altogether by the end of the season.
Hill stepped up in the pocket to avoid the rush and tried to drop the ball over the line to his runningback in the middle of the field. Devin broke towards him to make the tackle but the ball was tipped at the line. Deciding to roll the dice, he planted his foot and dove towards the ball.
He managed to get his fingers to it just before it hit the turf and somehow managed to knock it back up as he rolled onto his back. In a panic, he reached up and brought it into his chest.
The whistles blew and he saw the umpire signaling that the ball had hit the ground before he made the catch. Jumping to his feet, Devin waved to get Coach Hall’s attention and signaled for him to throw the challenge flag. He knew he’d been able to get his fingers under the ball.
Trusting his star player, the New Orleanian jogged onto the field and tossed the flag in front of the nearest official.
…
“I don’t think he was able to get his hands under that one, Doc. My eyes might be deceiving me but I think you can see a bit of green under the ball here on the replay. Of course, I’d gotten used to looking at the technology from the 20s and 30s. What these referees are looking at right now is so far advanced from that I’m sure they have little cameras on every blade of grass.”
“Something right out of a science fiction book. Remember folks, if this call is overturned, that’ll be Devin King’s tenth interception of the season which will be good enough to break Tulane’s all-time record for interceptions in a season.”
“It’s a bit staggering to realize that he would do that in 8 games. There are some senior cornerbacks floating around in the country who don’t have ten interceptions in four years of playing. This guy would have gone out and done it in a little more than half a season.”
“Marcus Jenkins might be in his grandson Caesar’s ear telling him to find a way to keep this amazing defensive back from breaking his record.”
“Seven interceptions in four or five games would be a tall task.”
“It looks like Marv Green is ready to tell us the verdict of the challenge.”
…
Devin watched from the sideline as the referee jogged back onto the field. He’d discarded the ball somewhere along the way but one of the team’s managers was standing next to him with the ball in hand, ready to stow it if the call was overturned.
If he were to be honest with himself, he didn’t want to break the record on the road. It felt like something that should be done in New Orleans, in front of the Green Wave’s fans but he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to help the team.
…
“After review, the ball bounced off the defender’s hands before it hit the ground. The call on the field is overturned. It’ll be Tulane’s ball. First down.”
…
Sanford Stadium erupted into a chorus of boos as Devin was congratulated for finally eclipsing the record. His fellow defensive backs were the most vocal about the achievement, having to be corralled onto the sideline by the coaching staff.
He didn’t care about the record yet. The team was only up 21-16 and there was still football left to be played. The record would mean nothing if they lost the game.
…
“The Green Wave takes the field on their own 49 yardline following that Devin King pick. Brady Rodgers is back in the shotgun with three receivers split out wide. Rodgers gets the snap and scans the field. Has all the time in the world. Steps up and fires it towards Caesar Jenkins who makes the catch and gets a little YAC on the play before being brought down. 16 yard gain down to the Georgia 35.”
…
“Smith takes the carry up the middle for a gain of four to the 31.”
…
“Armstrong reels it in for a couple. It’ll be third and four.”
…
“Rodgers fakes the handoff, rolls the opposite way… and he takes it himself! He manages to get nine yards on the play before sliding to avoid contact. I don’t think the Bulldogs were expecting that one.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, that might have been the slowest but most effective nine yard rush you’ve ever seen in a college football game. This freshman wasn’t brought here to run the ball but Coach Hall just showed that he isn’t afraid to roll the dice and send Rodgers out on a bootleg.”
“At least, he knew to slide.”
“The kid was probably thinking ‘go down’ as soon as he got the four needed for the first down.”
“The Green Wave rush that well-oiled offense back to the line of scrimmage, substitutions flying in and out. Four receivers on the field now. The ball is snapped, Rodgers turns to his right and finds Jenkins on the comeback route at the 10. He spins out of the tackle and dives for the pylon… Touchdown, Tulane!
“And that’s why this team is undefeated. Devin King gives the offense the ball with an acrobatic catch to pick the ball off then they drive right down the field and put six on the board with a show of strength by the big time receiver Caesar Jenkins. When you have two players of this caliber on each side of the ball, it’s hard to gameplan against them.”
“With the extra point, it’s 28-16 Green Wave with a little over 7 minutes remaining in the game.”
Devin walked out of Sanford Stadium, ready to board the bus to head back to New Orleans. He was still confused as to how the athletics department decided which games the team would ride a bus to and which they would fly to. Surely, Athens would fall under the category of fly to.
He glanced down at the ball tucked under his arm, a symbol of the first record he’d broken while at Tulane. Ten interceptions in a single season was a tall task, something that had taken years for anyone to break or get close to for that matter.
It was no secret that he’d never been one for individual accolades, normally choosing to shy away from the spotlight. The team’s record was still more important to him than anything he could possibly accomplish after the bye week. Tulane deserved a National Championship. They’d been waiting for one for long enough and it was time to deliver.
And that’s why he shook his head when he saw a drunk Green Wave fan cheering on his team as they got on the bus wearing a shirt with “KING DEVIN 4 HEISM4N” written across it in permanent market.
Those were the people that needed a National Championship.
“We’re underway here between the Hedges with the undefeated #3 Tulane Green Wave facing off against the 6-2 Georgia Bulldogs. Franklin Bastogne fields it deep for the Bulldogs. This guy already has a couple kickoff returns on the season. He’s looking for a hole and finds out at the 30. The Green Wave are trying to track him down but Bastogne’s hard to catch. A stutter-step leaves Max Longwell grasping at air and Bastogne’s off to the races. Touchdown Georgia right off the opening kick!”
“It looks like Tulane lost their lane discipline on that one and gave Bastogne room to wriggle through and get up to speed. Sometimes, an undefeated team will come into a game sleep-walking and need something to wake them up before it gets too bad, fortunately for the Green Wave, their wake up call came at the beginning of the game.
…
“Brady Rodgers steps on the field and this freshman is having a great season so far for the Green Wave. A shade over 2,000 yards, 19 touchdowns and only 3 interceptions.”
“When you have the receiving corps that this kid has, you come into games a little more confident that they are going to make the plays that you want them to make when you need them to make them. And just for some food for thought, there has only been one week this season where Caesar Jenkins has not been included in the injury report prior to a game. No one knows what the injury is but he’s started every game nonetheless.”
“And he still has Jason Williams on the other side who makes the first down catch for a pickup of seven yards.”
…
“Desmond Smith catches the ball out of the backfield and picks up enough to convert the first down.”
…
“Jenkins on the receiving end of that pass. He has to work to make something out of it but he’s dragged down after a gain of eight.”
“A lesser man would have only gained three or four on that one. He doesn’t look injured to me.”
…
“Rodgers links up with his tight end to pick up another first down.”
…
“Rodgers heaves it down field towards Williams. The sophomore uses some of his speed to open a bit of space between him and Zahir Scott. It’s a perfectly placed pass and there’s no one back deep to stop him! He can walk into the endzone. Touchdown Green Wave! Two big plays from each team and the score is tied at 7 a piece.”
“We might be looking at the makings of a shootout here.”
…
“Matt Crawford tackled in the backfield for a loss of three yards.”
…
“Dennis Hill’s pass is batted down at the line of scrimmage.”
…
“Third down again for the Bulldogs as Devin King brings down Hill for the sack.”
…
“Leon Goretzka lines up for the 49-yard field goal and splits the uprights to give Georgia the lead, 10-7.”
“The Bulldogs have to consider themselves lucky to come away with anything on that drive. Tulane was throwing everything but the kitchen sink at them. A few costly penalties moved them into field goal position and they were able to convert thanks to Goretzka’s big boot.”
…
“Tulane opens this drive with a quick screen to Caesar Jenkins…”
…
Caesar caught the ball cleanly and waited for his blocks to form in front of him. He danced in the backfield for a moment before slipping between Raphael and Willie who’d pushed the Bulldogs defenders far enough apart to create a hole.
He chewed up yardage quickly before he had to stiff-arm an onrushing safety and threw on the breaks when a linebacker dove at his feet to take him down. Starting down the field again, he cut towards the hash marks to avoid the players who were trying to cut him off but one defensive back was able to latch on to his waist and drag him down after a bit of a struggle.
As he rolled to his feet, he noticed that he felt a bit more winded than normal after such a run – probably a product of his lack of practice over the past few weeks.
Waving to the bench to be subbed out, he labored to the sideline for a rest… and an oxygen tank.
…
“A rare sight down on the field, Caesar Jenkins is asking to be taken out after that run.”
“He isn’t running as if he was hurt on the play. Just looks tired. Strange for a player like him in the first quarter to be tired but assuming he’s been missing practice because of those injuries, you have to wonder how his playing shape is holding up.”
“AND ON THE VERY NEXT PLAY DESMOND SMITH BREAKS ONE RIGHT UP THE MIDDLE! THE 30! THE 20! THE 10! TOUCHDOWN GREEN WAVE!”
“And sometimes you forget how explosive this offense really is. You see Jenkins drag himself off the field and then Desmond Smith, who has been having an amazing season taking the place of Tyrone Havas who is now in the NFL, take a handoff a blow the lid off the visiting section with an amazing run that puts the Green Wave back in the lead.”
…
“Another field goal from Georgia and the score is now Tulane 14, Georgia 13.”
…
“The Green Wave offense has really been struggling today without Caesar Jenkins playing as many snaps as he normally does but they are threatening to retake the lead here in the third quarter.”
“A lot of people don’t realize how much of a difference this guy makes when he is on the field. He’s 6’6”, 230 pounds, has a huge wingspan, ridiculous vertical AND runs a 4.4. In the earlier part of the century, they had athletes like Calvin Johnson on the football field, we have Caesar Jenkins. It’s a shame that he hasn’t been able to replicate what he did in his first season with the Green Wave.”
“Well, he’s on the field for this first and goal from the nine yard line. Georgia actually has a pair of players up close to the line of scrimmage to jam him at the line. They know how much Tulane favors the fade in this situation. Rodgers gets the snap, fakes to Jenkins and flicks it out to Smith in the flat behind Jenkins who does a pretty good job at taking two Bulldog defenders down with him and Smith walks into the endzone. Touchdown Tulane. 21-16, Green Wave.”
“That’s certainly one way to make use of your big receiver. Tell him to go out there and fall down on two defenders. He is known as a pretty good blocker too.”
…
Devin watched the quarterback’s eyes as he backpedaled in his zone. He knew there wasn’t much chance Dennis Hill was going to go to his side of the field. Georgia’s signal-caller had, as every other quarterback recently had, avoided throwing to his side of the field at all costs. He wouldn’t be surprised if teams stopped throwing altogether by the end of the season.
Hill stepped up in the pocket to avoid the rush and tried to drop the ball over the line to his runningback in the middle of the field. Devin broke towards him to make the tackle but the ball was tipped at the line. Deciding to roll the dice, he planted his foot and dove towards the ball.
He managed to get his fingers to it just before it hit the turf and somehow managed to knock it back up as he rolled onto his back. In a panic, he reached up and brought it into his chest.
The whistles blew and he saw the umpire signaling that the ball had hit the ground before he made the catch. Jumping to his feet, Devin waved to get Coach Hall’s attention and signaled for him to throw the challenge flag. He knew he’d been able to get his fingers under the ball.
Trusting his star player, the New Orleanian jogged onto the field and tossed the flag in front of the nearest official.
…
“I don’t think he was able to get his hands under that one, Doc. My eyes might be deceiving me but I think you can see a bit of green under the ball here on the replay. Of course, I’d gotten used to looking at the technology from the 20s and 30s. What these referees are looking at right now is so far advanced from that I’m sure they have little cameras on every blade of grass.”
“Something right out of a science fiction book. Remember folks, if this call is overturned, that’ll be Devin King’s tenth interception of the season which will be good enough to break Tulane’s all-time record for interceptions in a season.”
“It’s a bit staggering to realize that he would do that in 8 games. There are some senior cornerbacks floating around in the country who don’t have ten interceptions in four years of playing. This guy would have gone out and done it in a little more than half a season.”
“Marcus Jenkins might be in his grandson Caesar’s ear telling him to find a way to keep this amazing defensive back from breaking his record.”
“Seven interceptions in four or five games would be a tall task.”
“It looks like Marv Green is ready to tell us the verdict of the challenge.”
…
Devin watched from the sideline as the referee jogged back onto the field. He’d discarded the ball somewhere along the way but one of the team’s managers was standing next to him with the ball in hand, ready to stow it if the call was overturned.
If he were to be honest with himself, he didn’t want to break the record on the road. It felt like something that should be done in New Orleans, in front of the Green Wave’s fans but he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to help the team.
…
“After review, the ball bounced off the defender’s hands before it hit the ground. The call on the field is overturned. It’ll be Tulane’s ball. First down.”
…
Sanford Stadium erupted into a chorus of boos as Devin was congratulated for finally eclipsing the record. His fellow defensive backs were the most vocal about the achievement, having to be corralled onto the sideline by the coaching staff.
He didn’t care about the record yet. The team was only up 21-16 and there was still football left to be played. The record would mean nothing if they lost the game.
…
“The Green Wave takes the field on their own 49 yardline following that Devin King pick. Brady Rodgers is back in the shotgun with three receivers split out wide. Rodgers gets the snap and scans the field. Has all the time in the world. Steps up and fires it towards Caesar Jenkins who makes the catch and gets a little YAC on the play before being brought down. 16 yard gain down to the Georgia 35.”
…
“Smith takes the carry up the middle for a gain of four to the 31.”
…
“Armstrong reels it in for a couple. It’ll be third and four.”
…
“Rodgers fakes the handoff, rolls the opposite way… and he takes it himself! He manages to get nine yards on the play before sliding to avoid contact. I don’t think the Bulldogs were expecting that one.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, that might have been the slowest but most effective nine yard rush you’ve ever seen in a college football game. This freshman wasn’t brought here to run the ball but Coach Hall just showed that he isn’t afraid to roll the dice and send Rodgers out on a bootleg.”
“At least, he knew to slide.”
“The kid was probably thinking ‘go down’ as soon as he got the four needed for the first down.”
“The Green Wave rush that well-oiled offense back to the line of scrimmage, substitutions flying in and out. Four receivers on the field now. The ball is snapped, Rodgers turns to his right and finds Jenkins on the comeback route at the 10. He spins out of the tackle and dives for the pylon… Touchdown, Tulane!
“And that’s why this team is undefeated. Devin King gives the offense the ball with an acrobatic catch to pick the ball off then they drive right down the field and put six on the board with a show of strength by the big time receiver Caesar Jenkins. When you have two players of this caliber on each side of the ball, it’s hard to gameplan against them.”
“With the extra point, it’s 28-16 Green Wave with a little over 7 minutes remaining in the game.”
Devin walked out of Sanford Stadium, ready to board the bus to head back to New Orleans. He was still confused as to how the athletics department decided which games the team would ride a bus to and which they would fly to. Surely, Athens would fall under the category of fly to.
He glanced down at the ball tucked under his arm, a symbol of the first record he’d broken while at Tulane. Ten interceptions in a single season was a tall task, something that had taken years for anyone to break or get close to for that matter.
It was no secret that he’d never been one for individual accolades, normally choosing to shy away from the spotlight. The team’s record was still more important to him than anything he could possibly accomplish after the bye week. Tulane deserved a National Championship. They’d been waiting for one for long enough and it was time to deliver.
And that’s why he shook his head when he saw a drunk Green Wave fan cheering on his team as they got on the bus wearing a shirt with “KING DEVIN 4 HEISM4N” written across it in permanent market.
Those were the people that needed a National Championship.
Someone Has to Be the First
“It’s ludicrous. Unfathomable. There is no way that you can say this kid deserves serious consideration for the Heisman.”
“It’d be ludicrous if Devin King didn’t finish in the top 2 this year. Think about all the Heisman firsts we’ve already seen this century. First sophomore in Timmy Tebow way back in the ‘otts, first freshman in Johnny Manziel in ’12, Aaron Washington becoming the first true freshman to do it in ’40 and Marshall Kligen following that up with the first Heisman from a school outside the big 6 in who knows how long. It’s about time we give a defensive player the award especially one who doesn’t return punts and run routes in his spare time.”
…
“This isn’t a defensive player’s award. If Tulane wants to get King a Heisman, they need to slap him in at slot receiver. Brady Rodgers would have a field day on defenses with Caesar Jenkins, Jason Williams AND Devin King to throw the ball to.”
“That’s neither here nor there. The Heisman is awarded to the most outstanding football player in the college ranks, not the most outstanding quarterback or runningback. He has 10 interceptions through 8 games. That number alone is staggering but when you add in the sacks, the forced fumbles and the touchdowns, Devin King has better stats than most teams in college football let alone most players.”
…
“Does he get it if he doesn’t break the record for most interceptions in a season?”
“I doubt it. Marcus Jenkins wasn’t even considered when he set this record in his junior season at Wake Forest. Without the record, he doesn’t get his ‘Heisman’ moment. Besides, can we really say that he’s been a better player than Alex Morales at USC? That offense is running everyone off the field.”
…
“Maybe we should move the Heisman ceremony back to January after the National Championship game. We all know it’s going to be Tulane and USC going head to head for the crystal ball so why don’t we let Morales and King square off for the Heisman. It’d be a battle for the ages. #1 versus #2, the new kid on the block versus the historic juggernaut, best quarterback in the country against the best cornerback in the country. Winner take all, including the Heisman.”
…
Devin sighed as he turned off the TV. He couldn’t seem to find a channel that wasn’t talking about him and his chances at winning the Heisman. It didn’t help that it had become the talk of the campus as well. That’s why it didn’t surprise him in the least when he found himself holed up in Alessa’s apartment doing his best to avoid the masses.
“Futebol is on, you know,” Alessa sat down next to him, grabbed the remote out of his hand and turned the TV back on, “English futebol, though. I don’t really like it too much. Too brutish, but it’s still futebol.”
“As long as they don’t try to find some way to sneak in talking about me being in the running for the damn Heisman.”
“As much as the English have grown to love the NFL, I doubt they care about the Heisman or who’s going to win it and they definitely aren’t going to miss any opportunities to tell people how amazing their brand of futebol is by talking about American football.”
“Probably slip it into a commercial then.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Or on the adboards.”
“Not that bad.”
“Oh, right. Soccer jerseys have sponsors on them. Maybe—“
“It’s not that bad! If you want to hear about something else then why are you talking about it?”
“Because it seems like there is nothing else to talk about.”
“In December, I’m going home.”
“What?”
“You said there wasn’t anything else to talk about. In December, I’m going back to Brazil for 10 days. More if the team is in a late bowl game.”
“That’s… good?”
“Actually, it’s great. It’s summer there and I don’t know about you but I really don’t like the cold so I could do with a few days in some nice weather,” Alessa turned towards Devin who had a confused look on his face. She waited a few moments for him to explain before inquiring on her own, “What’s the look for?”
“I’m used to girls asking me to go with them to meet their parents at this point but then I remembered that you are talking about leaving the country.”
“Right and I wasn’t going to ask you that anyway.”
“Brazil is… Wait… what?”
“We aren’t at that point yet and you don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve been distant since I told you about Isabela?”
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get my head around it.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Devin. I expected it. If you would have brushed it off like it didn’t bother you, I would have thought you were weird or you had a child of your own around here somewhere that you were waiting to tell me about. You haven’t thrown in the towel yet though so I think I’m in pretty good shape, no?”
Devin sighed. He was amazed that he’d stumbled across someone as understanding as Alessa was. Most girls would have flipped their shit if he didn’t immediately sympathize with their plight, but Alessa allowed him to come to terms with it on his own without any outside pressure. He had to consider himself lucky, “I’m not going to.”
“Good, because you might get a video call from my papai while I am in Brazil,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“Your who? Does that mean… You just said I wasn’t…”
“Relax, Devinho. My papai follows a lot of sports here in the United States especially Tulane because I work for the program. Of course, I told him about you so he just wants to have a little chat with you. You probably won’t understand a word he says. His English isn’t that good.”
“As long as he doesn’t mention the Heis—“
Alessa slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up, “New rule. When we are in my apartment, the word Heisman cannot be said. You get really whiney when you talk about it so we’re just going to cut it out of the vocabulary.”
Devin moved her hand, “Alright but only if you let me say soccer.”
“FUTEBOL!”
He could only chuckle to himself quietly. Only Alessa would take more offense to what he called a sport than how he reacted after finding out she had a kid. Nonetheless, he was beginning to consider himself lucky to have her.
Caesar couldn’t hide the look of disgust that crossed his face as his struggled to peel his phone up from the table. In an effort to “repay” the gesture, he’d gone to Baton Rouge to spend some time with Erik but he didn’t expect to get dragged to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. It definitely wasn’t something he expected from a place called Tony’s, “The name of this place is misleading.”
“How is it misleading? It shouldn’t lead you at all. Just some guy’s name,” Erik said, taking a peanut from the bowl on the table and cracking it, “I told you that they have some great food here and if they toss some pubs, finger nails and ass-sweat into it to make that happen then I don’t care as long as I don’t know about it.”
Caesar was mortified as he watched his brother eat that peanut. Sure, it was shelled but who knows how many people had shoved their hands into that bowl? He was no germophobe but there was a line that every man had to draw a line in the sand when it came to random food sitting on tables in public places.
“You know your problem? You don’t get out enough, man. Just because a place is called Tony’s doesn’t mean you are going to be getting some tiny slice of steak with a bit of garnish while some stuffed shirt serenades you with a violin for the low price of 600 bucks.”
“I go to my fair share of shady places. I just don’t usually eat at them.”
“So a shady bar is different?”
“Yeah, alcohol kills germs.”
“Shady women?”
“There’s shit for that, too. This isn’t 2023.”
“Fair enough. You still need to relax. You’ve never heard what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?”
Caesar nodded and reached for a menu, “Yep, right before it turns you into a zombie.”
“Zombies? This ain’t 2013. Thought that fetish died a long time ago.”
“Wouldn’t exactly have called it a fetish, but fair enough.”
“So, you realize you aren’t going to declare for the draft this year yet?”
“You dragged me out to this dive to ask me that? I’m sure Jessica could have whipped us up something real nice that didn’t come with E. Coli, Salmonella and six other things I can’t spell but don’t want. Speaking of her, did you propose yet?”
Erik laughed, “In due time.”
“You can’t be serious. What is she your first girlfriend? You know you don’t have marry every girl you stick your dick in, right?”
“No, but I’m content. If we stay together long enough, why wouldn’t I make her a Jenkins? I’ll be special, yeah? First Jenkins man to marry a black girl?”
“If you are trying to make firsts as a Jenkins, you might as well be the first -- and probably only -- to marry a black man. Do it big or don’t do it at all.”
“I’ll pass on that one. Don’t need to be that special.”
“That’s your plan then? Marry this chick, graduate, go to the NFL, white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog?”
“I don’t know about the dog or the half a kid. I’m not much of a pet person and I don’t think I’d know what to do if it was only the lower half of that poor child.”
“You’re fucked up in the head, man. Are those really the thoughts going through your head at 20 years old? With a girl who not too long ago was going to school wearing khakis and white shirts, no less? I doubt that shit will cross my mind before I’m 30 and even then it sounds downright terrifying. Children? Can you imagine if that shit they say about your kids getting you back for what you did is true? Imagine if I had a fucking daughter. I’d have to kill a motherfucker or two.”
“We see things differently, Caesar. I’ve gone through my whole life watching my mom bounce from failed relationship to failed relationship. Somehow, this one with Jonathan has managed to last a while but I don’t want to go through that same thing and if I do then hell I want to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.”
“You realize the divorce rate is high as fuck, right?”
“Higher for the second marriage even.”
“Crazy motherfucker.”
Erik shrugged and decided to let the conversation die. He didn’t feel the need to justify his view on life to Caesar even after he’d decided to clarify for him. They were equals in many things in life. They had the same last name and he enjoyed most of the perks that came with it, the money – albeit a lot less than Caesar -- and the talent on the football field.
But what he didn’t have was stability in his family. Of course, Caesar did grow up in the most loving of homes but he grew up with their father as fucked up as he was. He was determined to make sure he didn’t make anyone else go through what he did.
“So, why aren’t you declaring after this year. Easier to set up a family if you have boatloads of cash,” Caesar said, breaking his brother out of his thoughts.
“Want to make sure this is going to work between me and Jessica. And before you say it, I know it sounds stupid to you, but I don’t want to pass on a chance of happiness or the draft. The NFL isn’t going anywhere and I find it hard to believe I’m ever going to blow my knee out or something. That’s a big commitment, you know? If I declared this year and wanted to keep her around, I would have to ask her to give up on school to follow me to God knows where. That’s fucked up, in my opinion, and I can’t ask her to do that.”
“But you could next year?”
“She’s going to graduate early.”
“You got that girl pregnant, didn’t you?”
“I’m not the one walking around here saying ‘I’m Catholic’ when someone asks me about my use of prophylactics. That shit is stupid and archaic, by the way.”
Caesar shook his head and laughed, “I see you went look up what I meant and found a big word along the way. I’m just saying that it is a damn good excuse. No girl is going to argue with my religious beliefs and they deaden the feeling anyway.”
“Your shit is going to shrivel up and fall off. God ain’t going to help you then.”
“Fuck, I’m going to be meeting him soon after because I’m not going through life without my dick. That might be my best asset.”
“The last thing I want to hear about is your dick, Caesar,” Erik cringed.
“I talk about it often so you better get used to it. We’re brothers, after all.”
“Kill me now.”
“It’s ludicrous. Unfathomable. There is no way that you can say this kid deserves serious consideration for the Heisman.”
“It’d be ludicrous if Devin King didn’t finish in the top 2 this year. Think about all the Heisman firsts we’ve already seen this century. First sophomore in Timmy Tebow way back in the ‘otts, first freshman in Johnny Manziel in ’12, Aaron Washington becoming the first true freshman to do it in ’40 and Marshall Kligen following that up with the first Heisman from a school outside the big 6 in who knows how long. It’s about time we give a defensive player the award especially one who doesn’t return punts and run routes in his spare time.”
…
“This isn’t a defensive player’s award. If Tulane wants to get King a Heisman, they need to slap him in at slot receiver. Brady Rodgers would have a field day on defenses with Caesar Jenkins, Jason Williams AND Devin King to throw the ball to.”
“That’s neither here nor there. The Heisman is awarded to the most outstanding football player in the college ranks, not the most outstanding quarterback or runningback. He has 10 interceptions through 8 games. That number alone is staggering but when you add in the sacks, the forced fumbles and the touchdowns, Devin King has better stats than most teams in college football let alone most players.”
…
“Does he get it if he doesn’t break the record for most interceptions in a season?”
“I doubt it. Marcus Jenkins wasn’t even considered when he set this record in his junior season at Wake Forest. Without the record, he doesn’t get his ‘Heisman’ moment. Besides, can we really say that he’s been a better player than Alex Morales at USC? That offense is running everyone off the field.”
…
“Maybe we should move the Heisman ceremony back to January after the National Championship game. We all know it’s going to be Tulane and USC going head to head for the crystal ball so why don’t we let Morales and King square off for the Heisman. It’d be a battle for the ages. #1 versus #2, the new kid on the block versus the historic juggernaut, best quarterback in the country against the best cornerback in the country. Winner take all, including the Heisman.”
…
Devin sighed as he turned off the TV. He couldn’t seem to find a channel that wasn’t talking about him and his chances at winning the Heisman. It didn’t help that it had become the talk of the campus as well. That’s why it didn’t surprise him in the least when he found himself holed up in Alessa’s apartment doing his best to avoid the masses.
“Futebol is on, you know,” Alessa sat down next to him, grabbed the remote out of his hand and turned the TV back on, “English futebol, though. I don’t really like it too much. Too brutish, but it’s still futebol.”
“As long as they don’t try to find some way to sneak in talking about me being in the running for the damn Heisman.”
“As much as the English have grown to love the NFL, I doubt they care about the Heisman or who’s going to win it and they definitely aren’t going to miss any opportunities to tell people how amazing their brand of futebol is by talking about American football.”
“Probably slip it into a commercial then.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Or on the adboards.”
“Not that bad.”
“Oh, right. Soccer jerseys have sponsors on them. Maybe—“
“It’s not that bad! If you want to hear about something else then why are you talking about it?”
“Because it seems like there is nothing else to talk about.”
“In December, I’m going home.”
“What?”
“You said there wasn’t anything else to talk about. In December, I’m going back to Brazil for 10 days. More if the team is in a late bowl game.”
“That’s… good?”
“Actually, it’s great. It’s summer there and I don’t know about you but I really don’t like the cold so I could do with a few days in some nice weather,” Alessa turned towards Devin who had a confused look on his face. She waited a few moments for him to explain before inquiring on her own, “What’s the look for?”
“I’m used to girls asking me to go with them to meet their parents at this point but then I remembered that you are talking about leaving the country.”
“Right and I wasn’t going to ask you that anyway.”
“Brazil is… Wait… what?”
“We aren’t at that point yet and you don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve been distant since I told you about Isabela?”
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get my head around it.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Devin. I expected it. If you would have brushed it off like it didn’t bother you, I would have thought you were weird or you had a child of your own around here somewhere that you were waiting to tell me about. You haven’t thrown in the towel yet though so I think I’m in pretty good shape, no?”
Devin sighed. He was amazed that he’d stumbled across someone as understanding as Alessa was. Most girls would have flipped their shit if he didn’t immediately sympathize with their plight, but Alessa allowed him to come to terms with it on his own without any outside pressure. He had to consider himself lucky, “I’m not going to.”
“Good, because you might get a video call from my papai while I am in Brazil,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“Your who? Does that mean… You just said I wasn’t…”
“Relax, Devinho. My papai follows a lot of sports here in the United States especially Tulane because I work for the program. Of course, I told him about you so he just wants to have a little chat with you. You probably won’t understand a word he says. His English isn’t that good.”
“As long as he doesn’t mention the Heis—“
Alessa slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up, “New rule. When we are in my apartment, the word Heisman cannot be said. You get really whiney when you talk about it so we’re just going to cut it out of the vocabulary.”
Devin moved her hand, “Alright but only if you let me say soccer.”
“FUTEBOL!”
He could only chuckle to himself quietly. Only Alessa would take more offense to what he called a sport than how he reacted after finding out she had a kid. Nonetheless, he was beginning to consider himself lucky to have her.
Caesar couldn’t hide the look of disgust that crossed his face as his struggled to peel his phone up from the table. In an effort to “repay” the gesture, he’d gone to Baton Rouge to spend some time with Erik but he didn’t expect to get dragged to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. It definitely wasn’t something he expected from a place called Tony’s, “The name of this place is misleading.”
“How is it misleading? It shouldn’t lead you at all. Just some guy’s name,” Erik said, taking a peanut from the bowl on the table and cracking it, “I told you that they have some great food here and if they toss some pubs, finger nails and ass-sweat into it to make that happen then I don’t care as long as I don’t know about it.”
Caesar was mortified as he watched his brother eat that peanut. Sure, it was shelled but who knows how many people had shoved their hands into that bowl? He was no germophobe but there was a line that every man had to draw a line in the sand when it came to random food sitting on tables in public places.
“You know your problem? You don’t get out enough, man. Just because a place is called Tony’s doesn’t mean you are going to be getting some tiny slice of steak with a bit of garnish while some stuffed shirt serenades you with a violin for the low price of 600 bucks.”
“I go to my fair share of shady places. I just don’t usually eat at them.”
“So a shady bar is different?”
“Yeah, alcohol kills germs.”
“Shady women?”
“There’s shit for that, too. This isn’t 2023.”
“Fair enough. You still need to relax. You’ve never heard what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?”
Caesar nodded and reached for a menu, “Yep, right before it turns you into a zombie.”
“Zombies? This ain’t 2013. Thought that fetish died a long time ago.”
“Wouldn’t exactly have called it a fetish, but fair enough.”
“So, you realize you aren’t going to declare for the draft this year yet?”
“You dragged me out to this dive to ask me that? I’m sure Jessica could have whipped us up something real nice that didn’t come with E. Coli, Salmonella and six other things I can’t spell but don’t want. Speaking of her, did you propose yet?”
Erik laughed, “In due time.”
“You can’t be serious. What is she your first girlfriend? You know you don’t have marry every girl you stick your dick in, right?”
“No, but I’m content. If we stay together long enough, why wouldn’t I make her a Jenkins? I’ll be special, yeah? First Jenkins man to marry a black girl?”
“If you are trying to make firsts as a Jenkins, you might as well be the first -- and probably only -- to marry a black man. Do it big or don’t do it at all.”
“I’ll pass on that one. Don’t need to be that special.”
“That’s your plan then? Marry this chick, graduate, go to the NFL, white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog?”
“I don’t know about the dog or the half a kid. I’m not much of a pet person and I don’t think I’d know what to do if it was only the lower half of that poor child.”
“You’re fucked up in the head, man. Are those really the thoughts going through your head at 20 years old? With a girl who not too long ago was going to school wearing khakis and white shirts, no less? I doubt that shit will cross my mind before I’m 30 and even then it sounds downright terrifying. Children? Can you imagine if that shit they say about your kids getting you back for what you did is true? Imagine if I had a fucking daughter. I’d have to kill a motherfucker or two.”
“We see things differently, Caesar. I’ve gone through my whole life watching my mom bounce from failed relationship to failed relationship. Somehow, this one with Jonathan has managed to last a while but I don’t want to go through that same thing and if I do then hell I want to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.”
“You realize the divorce rate is high as fuck, right?”
“Higher for the second marriage even.”
“Crazy motherfucker.”
Erik shrugged and decided to let the conversation die. He didn’t feel the need to justify his view on life to Caesar even after he’d decided to clarify for him. They were equals in many things in life. They had the same last name and he enjoyed most of the perks that came with it, the money – albeit a lot less than Caesar -- and the talent on the football field.
But what he didn’t have was stability in his family. Of course, Caesar did grow up in the most loving of homes but he grew up with their father as fucked up as he was. He was determined to make sure he didn’t make anyone else go through what he did.
“So, why aren’t you declaring after this year. Easier to set up a family if you have boatloads of cash,” Caesar said, breaking his brother out of his thoughts.
“Want to make sure this is going to work between me and Jessica. And before you say it, I know it sounds stupid to you, but I don’t want to pass on a chance of happiness or the draft. The NFL isn’t going anywhere and I find it hard to believe I’m ever going to blow my knee out or something. That’s a big commitment, you know? If I declared this year and wanted to keep her around, I would have to ask her to give up on school to follow me to God knows where. That’s fucked up, in my opinion, and I can’t ask her to do that.”
“But you could next year?”
“She’s going to graduate early.”
“You got that girl pregnant, didn’t you?”
“I’m not the one walking around here saying ‘I’m Catholic’ when someone asks me about my use of prophylactics. That shit is stupid and archaic, by the way.”
Caesar shook his head and laughed, “I see you went look up what I meant and found a big word along the way. I’m just saying that it is a damn good excuse. No girl is going to argue with my religious beliefs and they deaden the feeling anyway.”
“Your shit is going to shrivel up and fall off. God ain’t going to help you then.”
“Fuck, I’m going to be meeting him soon after because I’m not going through life without my dick. That might be my best asset.”
“The last thing I want to hear about is your dick, Caesar,” Erik cringed.
“I talk about it often so you better get used to it. We’re brothers, after all.”
“Kill me now.”
props to devin but if he keeps nabbing picks in the next 4-5 games he better get used to that heisman talk or hes gonna go crazy. not to mention how crazy caesar will get if devin wins it before he does. epic meltdown. and good to see the brothers bonding now... be interesting to see their dynamic on the football field now
Not the Champagne Room
“Look at that, a home cooked meal when I come home from work. Who knew you'd already be good at the housewife role?” Caesar joked as he walked into his dorm room, fresh from practice, to see Gina sitting on his bed with a couple boxes of takeout on his desk. He’d completely forgotten that he had recommended she come to New Orleans to spend time with him and had left his door unlocked so she could get in. It was something that could have ended very poorly, “I just hope you didn’t really cook that.”
Gina raised an eyebrow in challenge, “And if I did?”
“Then the weird guy with the dolls down the hall was going to get some free food.”
“With the dolls?”
“He calls them collectibles or action figures or some shit, but they look like dolls to me,” he explained as he tossed his bags into a corner on the opposite side of the room. He was actually happy that he had taken the time to clean his room up a bit. Their relationship was well beyond the stage of needing to impress one another but it certainly didn’t hurt.
“You hang out with that guy?”
“I’ve talked to him once or twice when I needed something that I didn’t feel like going out to buy. The guy has fucking dolls all over his room. I have enough crazy in my life,” he laughed as he searched through the boxes, hoping that she’d brought something worth eating.
“How are you feeling? You know, with the new medications and all.”
Caesar threw a look over his shoulder, “The word crazy made you think about that?”
“No, I watched the game Saturday and you looked like you were about to pass out after the game. It’s not like you talk to me about that.”
“Your dad, the world’s biggest LSU fan, let you watch a Tulane game?”
He sighed when he stumbled across a bit of barbecue chicken. He was picky about his barbecue. Over the past few years, he’d become a bit of a snob about it but what man wasn’t? Nonetheless, he sat down to eat it. He didn’t feel like he did too many things for Gina, the least he could do was eat the food she so generously bought for him.
At least, it wasn’t Chinese food.
“He watched it with me actually. He has a reason to watch Tulane these days. I think he’s going the passive aggressive route and instead of threatening you like he’s done to my past boyfriends, he’s waiting for someone else to hurt you.”
“Classy.”
There was no love lost between Caesar and Gina’s dad. He was one of Houma’s finest and had actually written Caesar a few minor in possession’s over the years. At this point, Caesar just tried his hardest to avoid the man and that was before he decided to start fucking his daughter again.
“Besides, all he talked about was how overrated y’all are.”
“You better not say that too loud. Remember, you’re on Tulane’s campus. I do still have a few groupies hanging around somewhere.”
“Really though, Caesar. I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me or worried about me falling down the draft board?”
“Bo—You, clearly,” her eyes widened a bit as she realized her gaffe, her heart in her throat as Caesar turned in the chair to look at her properly, “What else would I be worried about?”
After a few tense moments, he shrugged and turned back to the food, “You have nothing to be worried about. I’m figuring out how to cope with the meds and practice and all that good shit. I was just tired for that game against Georgia because it was the first one. I have two weeks to get ready for fucking UL.”
“Y’all should blow them out, right?”
“Of course. They were still some regional hillbilly school the last time I checked. I’m predicting an early day, to be honest. We’ll come out, score 50-some odd points in the first half and send the bench warmers in for the second. I’m think I’ll get three or four touchdowns.”
Gina nodded, not knowing what else to add to the conversation. She’d quickly learned that talking football with Caesar was nothing something that she was able to do. As any self-respecting Southern woman could, she was able to navigate her way through most discussions related to the sport but Caesar had a habit of getting overly technical when he got worked up and she had a habit of seeing dollar signs when he discussed his professional chances.
“Tell me again why you don’t have a roommate?” she asked in an attempt to steer them towards a safer conversation.
“He moved out and they don’t assign people rooms until the beginning of a new semester.”
“Why’d he move out?”
“I was having too much sex in the room.”
“What the fuck?!” she shouted, getting up from the bed to shove him, “What do you mean you were having too much sex?!”
Caesar laughed and shrugged, “I was getting too much and he didn’t like it. I don’t know what you are so mad about. You never asked me when he moved out, you only asked me why. If anything, you should be happy that he did. You know how awkward it would have been if he had been in here when you just randomly popped in with some food.”
“Sounds like a likely excuse, Caesar.”
“Aw, come on. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m sick. My mind tells me to fuck decent looking every girl I see.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I never said that it was supposed to be.”
“Why do I put up with you?”
“I have no idea. Probably because I’m rich.”
“Probably so. It might be your only redeeming quality.”
“I agree but about that sex thing, my mind really does tell me to fuck every fuckable girl I come across and since you are my girlfriend I believe that you should move to the top of the list.”
“Not happening.”
“I’m just trying to help you unbunch your panties by taking them off.”
“I don’t know whether to think that was clever or just fucking dumb.”
“What?! That doesn’t earn me points?” Caesar laughed as she shook her head at his antics.
Devin shoved his last shirt into a box and leaned on it to tape it closed. Standing up, he glanced around the room at the boxes he’d filled – seven in total plus a few duffle bags and a few random things he’d shove into one of his two backpacks.
Sighing to himself, he kneeled down and began unpacking the box he’d just packed because in actuality, he wasn’t going anywhere.
After returning from practice, he had a random urge to see how much stuff he’d accumulated over the past three years and how many boxes it would take for him to pack it all. From what he could remember, it’d only taken him three boxes and a duffle bag to move in his freshman year. Clearly, all the free stuff he’d been getting with “Tulane athletics” or “Tulane football” emblazoned across it was beginning to pile up.
It was a strange venture to say the least. He knew he had more stuff. The cabinet that was once mostly empty was now full and he’d even begun to use the one that Caesar vacated when he was moved across the campus.
Everyone was allowed their one moment of insanity. He’d just chalk it up to practice for when the time came that he actually would have to pack his stuff. It wasn’t like it was something that was far off. Soon, he’d either be moving down to one of the single rooms on the second or third floor of the dorm to make room for some freshmen or moving out completely if he decided to declare for the draft.
And the draft was something that had been weighing heavily on his mind over the past few days.
Earning his degree wouldn’t serve as a plausible reason why he would forego the draft. He was a few credits ahead of where he should be as a junior and surely technology had progressed to a point that any student could finish their degree through online classes. As long as he continued to attend classes, it was inevitable that he’d graduate eventually.
On the other hand, he didn’t have the “ghetto-mentality” that he’d read about in a few sport psychology books. It sounded terrible without explanation, to categorize people by where they were from, but it made sense. When a ball was the only way to get out, that person is going to claw and fight their way to the top by any means and they would take the first opportunity to get as much as possible before that window closed.
Football wasn’t his only way out. He’d come from a upper-middle class family, he was going to earn a degree from one of the most prestigious universities in the country and he was sure that he would be able to ride his name value to another job if neither of those things panned out for him.
When he sat back and took everything into account, the thing he loved the most about football was the traveling, seeing new places and meeting new people. Of course, it would be easier to do that if he had a bank account with a lot of zeros and commas but there was more variety in the game venues in college football.
He would have never gone to Boise, Idaho if he were in the NFL nor would he ever have had the chance to see the Rose Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, or any of the other great college football stadiums from the playing field. Leaving a year early would mean one year less to travel the country and see things that not many other could see they have.
Then there were the fans. College football fans were passionate about their teams. It was much harder to be a fair-weather fan when it came to college football. It was hard to get attached to a single player when he’d only be there for three or four years and there was no guarantee that he would play all three or four of those years.
NFL fans were finicky. Today they love you, tomorrow they hate you and next week they refuse to admit they ever followed that team. He’d grown up in a state notorious for their less-than-dedicated support of the professional team. The Saints went from the ‘Aints to “our boys” and back to the ‘Aints multiple times throughout their history and it seemed the fans who were season ticket holders had paper bags on standby to wear to the games when the Black and Gold fell on especially tough times.
It was a hard decision either way, one that he had quickly realized he couldn’t rely on anyone else to help him through. It seemed that the general consensus was that he should throw his name in the hat for next year’s draft as quickly as possible and only remember his time at Tulane as a stepping stone to the professional ranks.
But he didn’t want to have any regrets when he did hear his name called in April whether that be in 2055 or 2056. What if the Green Wave stumbled again? LSU was looking like a strong team again and they would always play them tough. What if they got to the National Championship and loss when it mattered the most? There were too many what if’s that he needed answered before he made his decision.
Some would even say that he should be concerned with whether or not he won all the individual awards that people suspected he would be in the running for. He still wasn’t convinced he had a shot at the Heisman but all the defensive back-specific awards were a different story. Being the Thorpe Winner might be the difference between going number six overall and going in the sixth round.
Others would tell him to keep his health in mind. His body was his trade and there had been numerous players over the years who had foregone their junior seasons to avoid serious injuries before declaring for the draft. He also couldn’t name a single one who actually had a decent career in the NFL. A year away from football is a year away from football whether that be by injury or otherwise.
For now, he was just focused on unpacking all his shit and chalking randomly packing his room up as not something to do again in the future.
“Look at that, a home cooked meal when I come home from work. Who knew you'd already be good at the housewife role?” Caesar joked as he walked into his dorm room, fresh from practice, to see Gina sitting on his bed with a couple boxes of takeout on his desk. He’d completely forgotten that he had recommended she come to New Orleans to spend time with him and had left his door unlocked so she could get in. It was something that could have ended very poorly, “I just hope you didn’t really cook that.”
Gina raised an eyebrow in challenge, “And if I did?”
“Then the weird guy with the dolls down the hall was going to get some free food.”
“With the dolls?”
“He calls them collectibles or action figures or some shit, but they look like dolls to me,” he explained as he tossed his bags into a corner on the opposite side of the room. He was actually happy that he had taken the time to clean his room up a bit. Their relationship was well beyond the stage of needing to impress one another but it certainly didn’t hurt.
“You hang out with that guy?”
“I’ve talked to him once or twice when I needed something that I didn’t feel like going out to buy. The guy has fucking dolls all over his room. I have enough crazy in my life,” he laughed as he searched through the boxes, hoping that she’d brought something worth eating.
“How are you feeling? You know, with the new medications and all.”
Caesar threw a look over his shoulder, “The word crazy made you think about that?”
“No, I watched the game Saturday and you looked like you were about to pass out after the game. It’s not like you talk to me about that.”
“Your dad, the world’s biggest LSU fan, let you watch a Tulane game?”
He sighed when he stumbled across a bit of barbecue chicken. He was picky about his barbecue. Over the past few years, he’d become a bit of a snob about it but what man wasn’t? Nonetheless, he sat down to eat it. He didn’t feel like he did too many things for Gina, the least he could do was eat the food she so generously bought for him.
At least, it wasn’t Chinese food.
“He watched it with me actually. He has a reason to watch Tulane these days. I think he’s going the passive aggressive route and instead of threatening you like he’s done to my past boyfriends, he’s waiting for someone else to hurt you.”
“Classy.”
There was no love lost between Caesar and Gina’s dad. He was one of Houma’s finest and had actually written Caesar a few minor in possession’s over the years. At this point, Caesar just tried his hardest to avoid the man and that was before he decided to start fucking his daughter again.
“Besides, all he talked about was how overrated y’all are.”
“You better not say that too loud. Remember, you’re on Tulane’s campus. I do still have a few groupies hanging around somewhere.”
“Really though, Caesar. I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me or worried about me falling down the draft board?”
“Bo—You, clearly,” her eyes widened a bit as she realized her gaffe, her heart in her throat as Caesar turned in the chair to look at her properly, “What else would I be worried about?”
After a few tense moments, he shrugged and turned back to the food, “You have nothing to be worried about. I’m figuring out how to cope with the meds and practice and all that good shit. I was just tired for that game against Georgia because it was the first one. I have two weeks to get ready for fucking UL.”
“Y’all should blow them out, right?”
“Of course. They were still some regional hillbilly school the last time I checked. I’m predicting an early day, to be honest. We’ll come out, score 50-some odd points in the first half and send the bench warmers in for the second. I’m think I’ll get three or four touchdowns.”
Gina nodded, not knowing what else to add to the conversation. She’d quickly learned that talking football with Caesar was nothing something that she was able to do. As any self-respecting Southern woman could, she was able to navigate her way through most discussions related to the sport but Caesar had a habit of getting overly technical when he got worked up and she had a habit of seeing dollar signs when he discussed his professional chances.
“Tell me again why you don’t have a roommate?” she asked in an attempt to steer them towards a safer conversation.
“He moved out and they don’t assign people rooms until the beginning of a new semester.”
“Why’d he move out?”
“I was having too much sex in the room.”
“What the fuck?!” she shouted, getting up from the bed to shove him, “What do you mean you were having too much sex?!”
Caesar laughed and shrugged, “I was getting too much and he didn’t like it. I don’t know what you are so mad about. You never asked me when he moved out, you only asked me why. If anything, you should be happy that he did. You know how awkward it would have been if he had been in here when you just randomly popped in with some food.”
“Sounds like a likely excuse, Caesar.”
“Aw, come on. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m sick. My mind tells me to fuck decent looking every girl I see.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I never said that it was supposed to be.”
“Why do I put up with you?”
“I have no idea. Probably because I’m rich.”
“Probably so. It might be your only redeeming quality.”
“I agree but about that sex thing, my mind really does tell me to fuck every fuckable girl I come across and since you are my girlfriend I believe that you should move to the top of the list.”
“Not happening.”
“I’m just trying to help you unbunch your panties by taking them off.”
“I don’t know whether to think that was clever or just fucking dumb.”
“What?! That doesn’t earn me points?” Caesar laughed as she shook her head at his antics.
Devin shoved his last shirt into a box and leaned on it to tape it closed. Standing up, he glanced around the room at the boxes he’d filled – seven in total plus a few duffle bags and a few random things he’d shove into one of his two backpacks.
Sighing to himself, he kneeled down and began unpacking the box he’d just packed because in actuality, he wasn’t going anywhere.
After returning from practice, he had a random urge to see how much stuff he’d accumulated over the past three years and how many boxes it would take for him to pack it all. From what he could remember, it’d only taken him three boxes and a duffle bag to move in his freshman year. Clearly, all the free stuff he’d been getting with “Tulane athletics” or “Tulane football” emblazoned across it was beginning to pile up.
It was a strange venture to say the least. He knew he had more stuff. The cabinet that was once mostly empty was now full and he’d even begun to use the one that Caesar vacated when he was moved across the campus.
Everyone was allowed their one moment of insanity. He’d just chalk it up to practice for when the time came that he actually would have to pack his stuff. It wasn’t like it was something that was far off. Soon, he’d either be moving down to one of the single rooms on the second or third floor of the dorm to make room for some freshmen or moving out completely if he decided to declare for the draft.
And the draft was something that had been weighing heavily on his mind over the past few days.
Earning his degree wouldn’t serve as a plausible reason why he would forego the draft. He was a few credits ahead of where he should be as a junior and surely technology had progressed to a point that any student could finish their degree through online classes. As long as he continued to attend classes, it was inevitable that he’d graduate eventually.
On the other hand, he didn’t have the “ghetto-mentality” that he’d read about in a few sport psychology books. It sounded terrible without explanation, to categorize people by where they were from, but it made sense. When a ball was the only way to get out, that person is going to claw and fight their way to the top by any means and they would take the first opportunity to get as much as possible before that window closed.
Football wasn’t his only way out. He’d come from a upper-middle class family, he was going to earn a degree from one of the most prestigious universities in the country and he was sure that he would be able to ride his name value to another job if neither of those things panned out for him.
When he sat back and took everything into account, the thing he loved the most about football was the traveling, seeing new places and meeting new people. Of course, it would be easier to do that if he had a bank account with a lot of zeros and commas but there was more variety in the game venues in college football.
He would have never gone to Boise, Idaho if he were in the NFL nor would he ever have had the chance to see the Rose Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, or any of the other great college football stadiums from the playing field. Leaving a year early would mean one year less to travel the country and see things that not many other could see they have.
Then there were the fans. College football fans were passionate about their teams. It was much harder to be a fair-weather fan when it came to college football. It was hard to get attached to a single player when he’d only be there for three or four years and there was no guarantee that he would play all three or four of those years.
NFL fans were finicky. Today they love you, tomorrow they hate you and next week they refuse to admit they ever followed that team. He’d grown up in a state notorious for their less-than-dedicated support of the professional team. The Saints went from the ‘Aints to “our boys” and back to the ‘Aints multiple times throughout their history and it seemed the fans who were season ticket holders had paper bags on standby to wear to the games when the Black and Gold fell on especially tough times.
It was a hard decision either way, one that he had quickly realized he couldn’t rely on anyone else to help him through. It seemed that the general consensus was that he should throw his name in the hat for next year’s draft as quickly as possible and only remember his time at Tulane as a stepping stone to the professional ranks.
But he didn’t want to have any regrets when he did hear his name called in April whether that be in 2055 or 2056. What if the Green Wave stumbled again? LSU was looking like a strong team again and they would always play them tough. What if they got to the National Championship and loss when it mattered the most? There were too many what if’s that he needed answered before he made his decision.
Some would even say that he should be concerned with whether or not he won all the individual awards that people suspected he would be in the running for. He still wasn’t convinced he had a shot at the Heisman but all the defensive back-specific awards were a different story. Being the Thorpe Winner might be the difference between going number six overall and going in the sixth round.
Others would tell him to keep his health in mind. His body was his trade and there had been numerous players over the years who had foregone their junior seasons to avoid serious injuries before declaring for the draft. He also couldn’t name a single one who actually had a decent career in the NFL. A year away from football is a year away from football whether that be by injury or otherwise.
For now, he was just focused on unpacking all his shit and chalking randomly packing his room up as not something to do again in the future.
caesar is a smart guy though he doesnt show it much. im sure hes wise to gina at this point. and i think championship or not devin will stay, based on what appears to be a fondness of seeing the country and history of the game
Last edited:
Holy updates.
Good stuff BC, good stuff. I agree with FIH. Devin stays, and Caesar knows what Gina is doing, but I'm not so sure that he cares. If anybody is used to gold diggers, it's him. And the guy in my avatar.
Good stuff BC, good stuff. I agree with FIH. Devin stays, and Caesar knows what Gina is doing, but I'm not so sure that he cares. If anybody is used to gold diggers, it's him. And the guy in my avatar.
Uneasy Peace
Julie shifted uncomfortably under the stares of the people passing by. She had become somewhat used to the attention that Caesar got when out in public but she wasn’t quite ready for the stop-and-stare that he drew with a baby in his arms talking in goo-goo-ga-gas. It was quickly making her regret allowing him to convince her to go to City Park with him.
“This park is a lot nicer than I thought it would be.”
Caesar cleared his throat to give his voice a moment to adjust to its normal baritone, “It’s getting a bit cold out so it’s lacking the druggies, the dealers, purse snatchers and the would-be rapists. They’ve all moved to Bourbon where they can huddle into groups for warmth.”
“That’s just what every mother wants to hear while in an unfamiliar place with her child.”
“I think me and lil’ man can handle a few addicts. Isn’t that right, Ronnie?” Caesar chuckled as Ronnie grabbed at his fingers, a much tougher task for the infant thanks to Caesar’s large hands, “If not, I can run pretty fast with something in my arms. I would imagine a marine could keep up with me.”
“We ran for distance, not speed.”
“Well, if that’s the case, you might have to fireman carry me because I’m not running at full speed for more than a couple hundred yards.”
“Sounds like we’re fucked.”
“Sounds like it,” he laughed as he set Ronnie back in the stroller.
Julie was surprised how natural Caesar was with her son. One would think someone as volatile as him would just give off an aura that would unsettle even the quietest babies but Ronnie had yet to get fussy in his arms except for the necessities.
However, she could still see the pain in his eyes whenever he held Ronnie. It was obvious that he was thinking about Ron when he looked at her son, thinking about the fact that little Ronnie would grow up never knowing his father. It was something that she thought about often but she’d come to terms with that fact. Maybe it was divine intervention or maybe it was just the time away from Pennsylvania that had given her peace but she knew Caesar needed that same peace.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness.”
He glanced at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the baby, “Forgiveness of who?”
“Ron for leaving me with a baby to raise on my own, Koreans for not being able to fucking get along with their own people, the government for getting involved in that clusterfuck, the country, anyone.”
“I can’t speak on the other things because I can’t relate to them but fuck those slant-eyed bastards.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Caesar, there are days when I feel the same way, days when I just want to punch the first Asian person I see just to make myself feel a little better but at the end of the day, those North Korean soldiers were doing the same thing to us that we were doing to them,” she raised her hand to stop him from cutting her off, “We were soldiers out there, too. I can’t stay mad at them when I don’t even know how many of them I killed myself. I was a light machine gunner, you know? They slapped a M27 IAR in my hands, a weapon that can spit out 850 rounds per minute and sent me out to ‘eliminate’ as many targets as possible with overwhelming and indiscriminate force. Think about it– a enemy emplacement, 15 or 20 guys in there. One of them sees us, shoots and all hell breaks loose. A 5.56 can do some scary things to sandbangs and flesh when that many bullets are coming out of one gun.
Knowing that, knowing how many lives I’ve probably taken, I can’t be angry for the rest of my life. God, I wish Ron was still here. If I could, I’d trade myself for him to come back so Ronnie could know him but that’s not going to happen. We knew the risks when we signed up for the job and for all I know, the soldier who killed him died a much worse death. We have to let it go, Caesar, or we’re no better than the crazy fucker who started all that shit.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Maybe in your mind you see what you had to do as repentance for what you lost but I don’t have those things to lean on. I just know that some little dick motherfucker killed one of the few people I had left in the world. No matter how many times I say ‘you’re forgiven’ Ron isn’t coming back.”
“Caesar…”
He shook his head, “No, Julie, I can’t. I won’t. They’ll have to earn all their forgiveness from you because as far as I’m concerned, they aren’t good for anything other than being accountants and weird fetishes.”
“Being able to let go is one of the things that make us human. Think about how you would feel if people didn’t let go of the things you’ve done. It doesn’t feel good.”
“You haven’t noticed? People don’t let go of the things that I do or did. If anything, all I’m known for is the stupid things I’ve done in life.”
“We can only control what we do. If other people can—“
It was his turn to cut her off, “Julie, I care about you a lot, but I don’t need the therapy. I already get enough of that shit. I know that I’m never going to be a likable person because of the things I’ve said or done in the past. I could forgive millions of people and that would still be the case. I think I deserve the right to say fuck some Koreans.”
Julie decided to not press the issue any further. She knew Caesar had some demons of his own that he had to beat before he could come to terms with his friend’s death. They had grown close over the last year so naturally she was worried about him and wanted him to be able to live a fulfilling life but she wouldn’t try to force him to change in a day.
She would, however, try to help him through whatever it was that he was dealing with even if he fought her every inch of the way. He needed solstice. Maybe she would have to extend her stay in Louisiana.
“It’s fine. Really, it is.”
“Except it’s not.”
“It was a good day.”
“Until my car died and we had to walk here.”
Alessa couldn’t help but to laugh as Devin paced around his room, clearly upset by how their day had ended. On a whim, Devin had convinced her to take a trip to Houma with him if only to get away from the hustle and bustle of New Orleans but it seemed to cause them more headaches than they got from the fast-paced lives they lived in the Crescent City.
It started when a gas station attendant didn’t believe he was actually Devin King, IV and refused his credit card because “DK4 was a bigger guy and never came to Houma for anything.” And it was somewhere between that gas station and the restaurant they decided on for lunch that he lost his wallet altogether.
She convinced him to let her pay but it wasn’t as big of a blow to his manliness as it was when his car’s fan belt broke effectively sidelining the vehicle for the rest of the day. To put the icing on the shit-cake that was the day, there was only room for one of them in the tow truck and Alessa couldn’t let Devin walk to his parents’ house alone.
“It could have been worse.”
Devin stopped and turned towards her, “I don’t see how the day could have possibly gotten worse.”
“It could have started raining while we were walking, we could have been robbed on the way, a serial killer could have offered us a ride or you could be dying of food poisoning right now because that hamburger was undercooked.”
“You have a very vivid imagination.”
“I was just stating the obvious,” she shrugged, “But I still think you are going to get something from that hamburger.”
“It was well done…”
“Still disgusting. Who knows exactly what kinds of meat they grind up into that?”
“Beef. It’s ground beef.”
“Or so you’ve been told.”
“Are you trying to turn me into a vegetarian because last time I checked, you eat meat.”
“I’m trying to get your mind off the day. I’ll agree that it wasn’t the best of days but it was still something that we can remember doing together months from now and we’ll look back on it and laugh about you, the big, strong football player, whining about having to walk a couple miles.”
“Hey, I’m not exactly wearing walking shoes.”
“Excuses.”
Alessa finally looked away from Devin's constant pacing to avoid getting dizzy and noticed something strange about his room. There wasn't a single football award or trophy to be found across his shelves or walls. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and got up and walked over to a small portion of broken glass and papers cluttering the floor in an otherwise spotless room.
Devin finally stopped pacing when he saw Alessa moving about his room.
"What are you doing?"
"Only what you did Mr. Nosy," Alessa teased.
"No seriously."
Alessa paused when she heard the concern in Devin's voice as she bent over and picked up the papers. Honor Roll. Straight A's. The years were sporadic, elementary and middle school mostly, but Alessa still didn't see any football awards.
"How come you don't have any football awards, Devin? You must have been a good player in high school to get a scholarship from Tulane."
"Tulane isn’t exactly a renowned program. They were still trying to get anyone worth a second look when I got there."
"Division one is division one and you committed and signed to TCU before Tulane."
Devin shrugged as he stared at the papers, "My father never approved of me playing football. He thought my time would be better spent focusing on my academics."
"And you disagreed?" Alessa pieced together, gesturing towards the broken glass and papers.
"Guess my parents haven't stepped into my room much since I've been gone."
"I know the feeling."
"Father breathing down your neck all day, every day nonstop about getting your head out of your ass and to focus on "real world" tactics and a mother who tries to ignore all the arguments and berating away?"
Alessa smiled cruelly, "Teenage mom, remember?"
"Right, sorry."
"You have no reason to be sorry. We all have our issues with our parents. It weighs on us just the same."
Still, Devin felt horrible for comparing an overbearing father who placed academics over sports and neglectful mother to a teenager mother. He was still trying to place how exactly he felt about it but just thinking about being in her shoes to tell her parents the news and then having to deal with it for nine months... he couldn't imagine.
"But hey, screw them right? We turned out okay, right?"
Devin chuckled, "More than okay."
"And they taught us important lessons. And even though I will probably never meet her, I won't turn my back on my daughter no matter what mistake she makes."
"And I won't force my values on my son no matter what."
"Son? What if it's a girl?"
Devin laughed again and shook his head, "Kings don't have daughters. Only sons."
"I don't believe that."
"It's true. In fact, I'm surprised I'm not the seventh or eighth Devin King, instead of the fourth."
"That can't be true."
"Trust me, it is. If you don't believe me you can find out first hand," Devin said still laughing.
His laughter died down when he realized the weight of his words and the silence coming from Alessa.
Devin almost apologized again when Alessa simply said, "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Devin, you know about my daughter. The most personal secret in my life. We've shared so much over these past few months and I realized I definitely mislabeled you, for better and worse Mr. King," Alessa added with a glare. "I told you I don't jump into bed with just anyone with a few lines and flowers. I'm comfortable with you and I trust you. And we’re stuck here for at least another few hours..."
“Wa-- wait, what?”
“Don’t get nervous on me now, Devinho. As meninas americanas ensinaram-te algo, não é?”
“Day saved,” he said under his breath as he kicked the door closed. Hopefully his parents wouldn’t be home anytime soon.
Julie shifted uncomfortably under the stares of the people passing by. She had become somewhat used to the attention that Caesar got when out in public but she wasn’t quite ready for the stop-and-stare that he drew with a baby in his arms talking in goo-goo-ga-gas. It was quickly making her regret allowing him to convince her to go to City Park with him.
“This park is a lot nicer than I thought it would be.”
Caesar cleared his throat to give his voice a moment to adjust to its normal baritone, “It’s getting a bit cold out so it’s lacking the druggies, the dealers, purse snatchers and the would-be rapists. They’ve all moved to Bourbon where they can huddle into groups for warmth.”
“That’s just what every mother wants to hear while in an unfamiliar place with her child.”
“I think me and lil’ man can handle a few addicts. Isn’t that right, Ronnie?” Caesar chuckled as Ronnie grabbed at his fingers, a much tougher task for the infant thanks to Caesar’s large hands, “If not, I can run pretty fast with something in my arms. I would imagine a marine could keep up with me.”
“We ran for distance, not speed.”
“Well, if that’s the case, you might have to fireman carry me because I’m not running at full speed for more than a couple hundred yards.”
“Sounds like we’re fucked.”
“Sounds like it,” he laughed as he set Ronnie back in the stroller.
Julie was surprised how natural Caesar was with her son. One would think someone as volatile as him would just give off an aura that would unsettle even the quietest babies but Ronnie had yet to get fussy in his arms except for the necessities.
However, she could still see the pain in his eyes whenever he held Ronnie. It was obvious that he was thinking about Ron when he looked at her son, thinking about the fact that little Ronnie would grow up never knowing his father. It was something that she thought about often but she’d come to terms with that fact. Maybe it was divine intervention or maybe it was just the time away from Pennsylvania that had given her peace but she knew Caesar needed that same peace.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness.”
He glanced at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the baby, “Forgiveness of who?”
“Ron for leaving me with a baby to raise on my own, Koreans for not being able to fucking get along with their own people, the government for getting involved in that clusterfuck, the country, anyone.”
“I can’t speak on the other things because I can’t relate to them but fuck those slant-eyed bastards.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Caesar, there are days when I feel the same way, days when I just want to punch the first Asian person I see just to make myself feel a little better but at the end of the day, those North Korean soldiers were doing the same thing to us that we were doing to them,” she raised her hand to stop him from cutting her off, “We were soldiers out there, too. I can’t stay mad at them when I don’t even know how many of them I killed myself. I was a light machine gunner, you know? They slapped a M27 IAR in my hands, a weapon that can spit out 850 rounds per minute and sent me out to ‘eliminate’ as many targets as possible with overwhelming and indiscriminate force. Think about it– a enemy emplacement, 15 or 20 guys in there. One of them sees us, shoots and all hell breaks loose. A 5.56 can do some scary things to sandbangs and flesh when that many bullets are coming out of one gun.
Knowing that, knowing how many lives I’ve probably taken, I can’t be angry for the rest of my life. God, I wish Ron was still here. If I could, I’d trade myself for him to come back so Ronnie could know him but that’s not going to happen. We knew the risks when we signed up for the job and for all I know, the soldier who killed him died a much worse death. We have to let it go, Caesar, or we’re no better than the crazy fucker who started all that shit.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Maybe in your mind you see what you had to do as repentance for what you lost but I don’t have those things to lean on. I just know that some little dick motherfucker killed one of the few people I had left in the world. No matter how many times I say ‘you’re forgiven’ Ron isn’t coming back.”
“Caesar…”
He shook his head, “No, Julie, I can’t. I won’t. They’ll have to earn all their forgiveness from you because as far as I’m concerned, they aren’t good for anything other than being accountants and weird fetishes.”
“Being able to let go is one of the things that make us human. Think about how you would feel if people didn’t let go of the things you’ve done. It doesn’t feel good.”
“You haven’t noticed? People don’t let go of the things that I do or did. If anything, all I’m known for is the stupid things I’ve done in life.”
“We can only control what we do. If other people can—“
It was his turn to cut her off, “Julie, I care about you a lot, but I don’t need the therapy. I already get enough of that shit. I know that I’m never going to be a likable person because of the things I’ve said or done in the past. I could forgive millions of people and that would still be the case. I think I deserve the right to say fuck some Koreans.”
Julie decided to not press the issue any further. She knew Caesar had some demons of his own that he had to beat before he could come to terms with his friend’s death. They had grown close over the last year so naturally she was worried about him and wanted him to be able to live a fulfilling life but she wouldn’t try to force him to change in a day.
She would, however, try to help him through whatever it was that he was dealing with even if he fought her every inch of the way. He needed solstice. Maybe she would have to extend her stay in Louisiana.
“It’s fine. Really, it is.”
“Except it’s not.”
“It was a good day.”
“Until my car died and we had to walk here.”
Alessa couldn’t help but to laugh as Devin paced around his room, clearly upset by how their day had ended. On a whim, Devin had convinced her to take a trip to Houma with him if only to get away from the hustle and bustle of New Orleans but it seemed to cause them more headaches than they got from the fast-paced lives they lived in the Crescent City.
It started when a gas station attendant didn’t believe he was actually Devin King, IV and refused his credit card because “DK4 was a bigger guy and never came to Houma for anything.” And it was somewhere between that gas station and the restaurant they decided on for lunch that he lost his wallet altogether.
She convinced him to let her pay but it wasn’t as big of a blow to his manliness as it was when his car’s fan belt broke effectively sidelining the vehicle for the rest of the day. To put the icing on the shit-cake that was the day, there was only room for one of them in the tow truck and Alessa couldn’t let Devin walk to his parents’ house alone.
“It could have been worse.”
Devin stopped and turned towards her, “I don’t see how the day could have possibly gotten worse.”
“It could have started raining while we were walking, we could have been robbed on the way, a serial killer could have offered us a ride or you could be dying of food poisoning right now because that hamburger was undercooked.”
“You have a very vivid imagination.”
“I was just stating the obvious,” she shrugged, “But I still think you are going to get something from that hamburger.”
“It was well done…”
“Still disgusting. Who knows exactly what kinds of meat they grind up into that?”
“Beef. It’s ground beef.”
“Or so you’ve been told.”
“Are you trying to turn me into a vegetarian because last time I checked, you eat meat.”
“I’m trying to get your mind off the day. I’ll agree that it wasn’t the best of days but it was still something that we can remember doing together months from now and we’ll look back on it and laugh about you, the big, strong football player, whining about having to walk a couple miles.”
“Hey, I’m not exactly wearing walking shoes.”
“Excuses.”
Alessa finally looked away from Devin's constant pacing to avoid getting dizzy and noticed something strange about his room. There wasn't a single football award or trophy to be found across his shelves or walls. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and got up and walked over to a small portion of broken glass and papers cluttering the floor in an otherwise spotless room.
Devin finally stopped pacing when he saw Alessa moving about his room.
"What are you doing?"
"Only what you did Mr. Nosy," Alessa teased.
"No seriously."
Alessa paused when she heard the concern in Devin's voice as she bent over and picked up the papers. Honor Roll. Straight A's. The years were sporadic, elementary and middle school mostly, but Alessa still didn't see any football awards.
"How come you don't have any football awards, Devin? You must have been a good player in high school to get a scholarship from Tulane."
"Tulane isn’t exactly a renowned program. They were still trying to get anyone worth a second look when I got there."
"Division one is division one and you committed and signed to TCU before Tulane."
Devin shrugged as he stared at the papers, "My father never approved of me playing football. He thought my time would be better spent focusing on my academics."
"And you disagreed?" Alessa pieced together, gesturing towards the broken glass and papers.
"Guess my parents haven't stepped into my room much since I've been gone."
"I know the feeling."
"Father breathing down your neck all day, every day nonstop about getting your head out of your ass and to focus on "real world" tactics and a mother who tries to ignore all the arguments and berating away?"
Alessa smiled cruelly, "Teenage mom, remember?"
"Right, sorry."
"You have no reason to be sorry. We all have our issues with our parents. It weighs on us just the same."
Still, Devin felt horrible for comparing an overbearing father who placed academics over sports and neglectful mother to a teenager mother. He was still trying to place how exactly he felt about it but just thinking about being in her shoes to tell her parents the news and then having to deal with it for nine months... he couldn't imagine.
"But hey, screw them right? We turned out okay, right?"
Devin chuckled, "More than okay."
"And they taught us important lessons. And even though I will probably never meet her, I won't turn my back on my daughter no matter what mistake she makes."
"And I won't force my values on my son no matter what."
"Son? What if it's a girl?"
Devin laughed again and shook his head, "Kings don't have daughters. Only sons."
"I don't believe that."
"It's true. In fact, I'm surprised I'm not the seventh or eighth Devin King, instead of the fourth."
"That can't be true."
"Trust me, it is. If you don't believe me you can find out first hand," Devin said still laughing.
His laughter died down when he realized the weight of his words and the silence coming from Alessa.
Devin almost apologized again when Alessa simply said, "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Devin, you know about my daughter. The most personal secret in my life. We've shared so much over these past few months and I realized I definitely mislabeled you, for better and worse Mr. King," Alessa added with a glare. "I told you I don't jump into bed with just anyone with a few lines and flowers. I'm comfortable with you and I trust you. And we’re stuck here for at least another few hours..."
“Wa-- wait, what?”
“Don’t get nervous on me now, Devinho. As meninas americanas ensinaram-te algo, não é?”
“Day saved,” he said under his breath as he kicked the door closed. Hopefully his parents wouldn’t be home anytime soon.
Julie might be what Caesar needs until Kaley gets back with him, a nice bandaid till the real thing. and bout time with Devin and Alessa
Natural Progression
Deion Jenkins grumbled curses under his breath as he stomped down the stairs, ready to kill whoever decided that banging on his door early in the morning was a good idea. He’d try to convince his wife to get up and answer the door but she only turned over and ignored him. Clearly, if a man wanted something done then he was going to have to do it himself.
“I’m fucking coming!” he shouted when he reached the bottom of the staircase. There was going to be hell to pay if there was a religious nut on the other side of that door. He didn’t know who he hated more Jehovah’s Witnesses or fucking Mormons. They could all shove their salvation right up their asses for all he cared.
He had a string of insults ready when he swung the door open but stayed his tirade when he saw his father was behind the incessant noise, “And to what do I owe this honor, old man?”
Marcus looked at his son and chuckled before pushing his way through the front door, “I see you are showing off all those manners your mother tried to instill in you all those years ago. It warms my fucking heart.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not exactly hospitable at 8 in the fucking morning after an 11 hour flight from London.”
“London? What’s in London?”
“Money and a lot of it. They keep trying to move forward with this dumbass plan to get a division of NFL teams over there in Europe or bring back the NFL Europa from ages ago. Of course, if that fails then I’m more than happy to latch on to a few of those soccer players. You know they are paying some of those little shits a couple hundred thousand a week? I’m talking 17 and 18 year olds here. I couldn’t tell them jack shit about that sport but I could make them filthy rich and make a nice penny on the way.”
“You always were an ambitious one.”
“If there’s money to be made then someone has to do it. Don’t want it going to waste, now do we? But I know you didn’t come here to talk about my business so tell me what has gotten you up before even Jesus himself?”
“I think Jesus is a 24/7 type of fellow.”
“I think the fucker sleeps in but that’s neither here nor there. What is it? You sick? Mom sick? Need some money? Need a house? A boat? A plane? A great-grandson?”
The older man shook his head, “Actually, I did come here to speak to you about your business, son, but only in relation to Caesar… and even Erik.”
“What about them? If you want to be specific about it, what I do as an agent has nothing to do with either of them right now. Wouldn’t want the NCAA kicking up shit again over something that they have no control over.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Deion. I’m not one of those suits from Indianapolis who come around looking to get their palms greased. You’ve been pulling the strings on both of their playing careers since you cut the umbilical cords.”
“You know me too well, pops.”
“Are they declaring after this season.”
“Yes,” he answered simply as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of orange juice.
“That was their choice or your choice?”
“Does it matter who’s choice it was? I have their best interests at heart and what’s best for them is for them to put their big boy draws on and move on to the NFL in April.”
“You know sometimes I think that you struggle to separate the fact that they are your sons from the fact that you will also be their agent when that time comes. Yes, they are very talented football players. Probably better than the both of us combined. Yes, they will probably get chosen very high in the draft and make a lot of money that neither of them really need all things considered. But you also have to remember, these are two young men that have been told all their lives that they are going to play this sport and they are going to go the NFL. Have you ever thought there may be a chance that neither of them wants to play professionally?”
“Have you been hitting the peace pipe with Old Man Verdin again? There’s no such thing as a Jenkins who doesn’t want to play in the NFL. Their sons’ sons’ sons’ sons will want to play in the NFL if it’s still around.”
“And if they don’t? Is the few million dollars you make of their first contracts really more important than your sons’ happiness?”
Deion laughed dryly, “Erik’s talking about getting married. You need money to get married. Where is he going to get money from? The NFL. And as long as Caesar stays away from girls like that dumb bitch he was with when he decided to go to Tulane over Oklahoma State then he’ll be going to the NFL, too.”
“It’s all so simple for you, ain’t it?”
“You make it sound like I’m asking them to kill someone for the money. This is the natural progression of their lives.”
“Natural progression, you say? Was it also the natural progression of their lives when you decided to cheat on your pregnant wife and knock some random other woman up? That almost tore apart your family. Do you think it can handle more drama?”
“I seem to think they turned out just fine, the both of them. Yeah, Caesar’s apparently crazy but so is his mother and Erik’s resentful but his mother is too, so if you are going to blame anyone for their behavior it’s the women in my life. If they don’t want to go pro, that’s fine they don’t have to. But if they don’t, they better not come crying to me when the money runs out and they have to start selling car insurance.”
“I’m just trying to open your eyes to what you’re doing.”
“And it is welcomed advice, but if you’d excuse me I’ve been traveling the world for the last few weeks trying to expand on the family future and I’d really like to fuck that wife you were talking about,” he walked by his father and opened the door for him, effectively throwing him out, “Tell mom that I’ll be by later today.”
“I’ll do that.”
“You seem anxious, Caesar,” Dr. Naquin said, nodding at his hands. She normally only noticed a client’s nervous ticks during sessions but she’d long ago learned that Caesar was a man of very few tells unless something was bothering him to the point that he couldn’t handle it without making it noticeable.
Caesar looked down at his fingers, absent-mindedly drumming against his knee. Using the other hand, he covered them to still the digits. He’d decided to “forget” to take most of the medication that he’d be given and he could tell that his body was beginning to miss it, “Anxious doesn’t begin to explain it.”
“Any problems with the medication?”
“I’m not taking most of it.”
Dr. Naquin placed her pen down on the notepad in her lap and looked up at him. Shaking her head, she picked the pen up once more and wrote a few notes on the yellowed paper, “Why not? You practically begged me to prescribe it to you and now you tell me that you aren’t taking it. Surely, there must be a reason for that.”
“I—I’m afraid I’ll get addicted to it. When I take them, I feel too good and I find myself counting down the hours until I take them again to make sure that feeling doesn’t go away. That shit ain’t good, doc, it ain’t good at all.”
“This is a rational fear, Caesar. You’ve had problems with addiction in the past and left unchecked you could be prone to it again. However, you must also realize that these medications are made to balance out the symptoms relating to your BPD. Of course, you will feel better on them then you will off them. You’ve only been taking them for a week. You have to trust that you can abide by the dosage schedule without becoming reliant on them.”
He sighed and began drumming his fingers against his knee again as he remembered something that Gina had brought up to him on more than a few occasions just the other day, “It’s not just that. I can’t deal with some of the side-effects.”
“I warned you of them.”
“I know.”
“I tried to go a different route.”
“I know.”
“What do you want me to do, Caesar? I’m trying to help you but as I’ve seen umpteen times before you make this very difficult. You need to let me help you.”
“Look, doc, I’m damn near 21 years old, I’m probably about to leave college and head to the NFL, sooner or later I’m going to get some girl pregnant or marry some girl for appearances’ sake. The problem with this shit is, I know that there’s a chance that I pass this… disorder down to my son. That scares the shit out of me and I don’t want to believe any of this is real. Yeah, I’m worried about the NFL but those fuckers were going to think I was crazy regardless. I’m more worried about my personal life in the future.”
The psychiatrist nodded slowly as she digested what he’d said, “And finally, after months of prying, we make some damn progress.”
“You allowed to curse, doc?”
“It’s my practice I can say what I want,” Dr. Naquin said plainly, “Now, we move on from here. You have to be honest with the people in your life about your BPD. I understand that may be a hard thing for you to do but it will be best for the long run.”
“And if they bolt? Won’t I do my damnedest to keep people around me?” Caesar took a deep breath and somehow managed to still his fingers once more.
“If they leave then they didn’t belong in your life in the first place. Think about the people who have stuck by your side despite all of this or anything you’ve done or said to them. Those are the people that you want to keep around.”
“I keep hearing that shit.”
“Because it’s true, Mr. Jenkins. There are only so many people that we come across in our lives that deserve to be in our lives. Your problem is that you struggle to separate those people from the ones who don’t deserve that. You already know the ones that you need to keep around. You might not realize it yet but they are there.”
Caesar thought about all the people he associated himself with and tried to determine who would fit Dr. Naquin’s description. There weren’t many that he could think of so he decided to live that conversation for another day, “And what do I do about the drugs?”
“I’d recommend that you go through at least one cycle of the medication before deciding whether or not to discontinue taking them. I never thought you needed them in the first place but it’ll take away before your body get used to them.”
“Right. Just trying to make sure that I’m in playing shape. I can’t have a repeat of last week when I was about to pass out on the field from being awake all hours of the damn night. It wasn’t pretty, not pretty at all.”
“Caesar, I think we’re finally making progress in these sessions. You just have to trust me enough to believe that what I’m telling you will help you deal with everything you are facing.”
“I trust you, doc. I have no idea why, but I do. Hopefully, we get to the bottom of this by April because I don’t think I can go through the process of vetting another psychiatrist in whatever city I land in when I’m drafted.”
He’d already figured that he would probably shell out a pretty penny to retain Dr. Naquin’s services even if he was drafted by some team in the Pacific Northwest. Trusting someone enough to divulge information about his mental illness to someone he didn’t know would be a tall task, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to undertake.
The problem was that he didn’t know if this was something he was going to be able to figure out anytime soon.
Deion Jenkins grumbled curses under his breath as he stomped down the stairs, ready to kill whoever decided that banging on his door early in the morning was a good idea. He’d try to convince his wife to get up and answer the door but she only turned over and ignored him. Clearly, if a man wanted something done then he was going to have to do it himself.
“I’m fucking coming!” he shouted when he reached the bottom of the staircase. There was going to be hell to pay if there was a religious nut on the other side of that door. He didn’t know who he hated more Jehovah’s Witnesses or fucking Mormons. They could all shove their salvation right up their asses for all he cared.
He had a string of insults ready when he swung the door open but stayed his tirade when he saw his father was behind the incessant noise, “And to what do I owe this honor, old man?”
Marcus looked at his son and chuckled before pushing his way through the front door, “I see you are showing off all those manners your mother tried to instill in you all those years ago. It warms my fucking heart.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not exactly hospitable at 8 in the fucking morning after an 11 hour flight from London.”
“London? What’s in London?”
“Money and a lot of it. They keep trying to move forward with this dumbass plan to get a division of NFL teams over there in Europe or bring back the NFL Europa from ages ago. Of course, if that fails then I’m more than happy to latch on to a few of those soccer players. You know they are paying some of those little shits a couple hundred thousand a week? I’m talking 17 and 18 year olds here. I couldn’t tell them jack shit about that sport but I could make them filthy rich and make a nice penny on the way.”
“You always were an ambitious one.”
“If there’s money to be made then someone has to do it. Don’t want it going to waste, now do we? But I know you didn’t come here to talk about my business so tell me what has gotten you up before even Jesus himself?”
“I think Jesus is a 24/7 type of fellow.”
“I think the fucker sleeps in but that’s neither here nor there. What is it? You sick? Mom sick? Need some money? Need a house? A boat? A plane? A great-grandson?”
The older man shook his head, “Actually, I did come here to speak to you about your business, son, but only in relation to Caesar… and even Erik.”
“What about them? If you want to be specific about it, what I do as an agent has nothing to do with either of them right now. Wouldn’t want the NCAA kicking up shit again over something that they have no control over.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Deion. I’m not one of those suits from Indianapolis who come around looking to get their palms greased. You’ve been pulling the strings on both of their playing careers since you cut the umbilical cords.”
“You know me too well, pops.”
“Are they declaring after this season.”
“Yes,” he answered simply as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of orange juice.
“That was their choice or your choice?”
“Does it matter who’s choice it was? I have their best interests at heart and what’s best for them is for them to put their big boy draws on and move on to the NFL in April.”
“You know sometimes I think that you struggle to separate the fact that they are your sons from the fact that you will also be their agent when that time comes. Yes, they are very talented football players. Probably better than the both of us combined. Yes, they will probably get chosen very high in the draft and make a lot of money that neither of them really need all things considered. But you also have to remember, these are two young men that have been told all their lives that they are going to play this sport and they are going to go the NFL. Have you ever thought there may be a chance that neither of them wants to play professionally?”
“Have you been hitting the peace pipe with Old Man Verdin again? There’s no such thing as a Jenkins who doesn’t want to play in the NFL. Their sons’ sons’ sons’ sons will want to play in the NFL if it’s still around.”
“And if they don’t? Is the few million dollars you make of their first contracts really more important than your sons’ happiness?”
Deion laughed dryly, “Erik’s talking about getting married. You need money to get married. Where is he going to get money from? The NFL. And as long as Caesar stays away from girls like that dumb bitch he was with when he decided to go to Tulane over Oklahoma State then he’ll be going to the NFL, too.”
“It’s all so simple for you, ain’t it?”
“You make it sound like I’m asking them to kill someone for the money. This is the natural progression of their lives.”
“Natural progression, you say? Was it also the natural progression of their lives when you decided to cheat on your pregnant wife and knock some random other woman up? That almost tore apart your family. Do you think it can handle more drama?”
“I seem to think they turned out just fine, the both of them. Yeah, Caesar’s apparently crazy but so is his mother and Erik’s resentful but his mother is too, so if you are going to blame anyone for their behavior it’s the women in my life. If they don’t want to go pro, that’s fine they don’t have to. But if they don’t, they better not come crying to me when the money runs out and they have to start selling car insurance.”
“I’m just trying to open your eyes to what you’re doing.”
“And it is welcomed advice, but if you’d excuse me I’ve been traveling the world for the last few weeks trying to expand on the family future and I’d really like to fuck that wife you were talking about,” he walked by his father and opened the door for him, effectively throwing him out, “Tell mom that I’ll be by later today.”
“I’ll do that.”
“You seem anxious, Caesar,” Dr. Naquin said, nodding at his hands. She normally only noticed a client’s nervous ticks during sessions but she’d long ago learned that Caesar was a man of very few tells unless something was bothering him to the point that he couldn’t handle it without making it noticeable.
Caesar looked down at his fingers, absent-mindedly drumming against his knee. Using the other hand, he covered them to still the digits. He’d decided to “forget” to take most of the medication that he’d be given and he could tell that his body was beginning to miss it, “Anxious doesn’t begin to explain it.”
“Any problems with the medication?”
“I’m not taking most of it.”
Dr. Naquin placed her pen down on the notepad in her lap and looked up at him. Shaking her head, she picked the pen up once more and wrote a few notes on the yellowed paper, “Why not? You practically begged me to prescribe it to you and now you tell me that you aren’t taking it. Surely, there must be a reason for that.”
“I—I’m afraid I’ll get addicted to it. When I take them, I feel too good and I find myself counting down the hours until I take them again to make sure that feeling doesn’t go away. That shit ain’t good, doc, it ain’t good at all.”
“This is a rational fear, Caesar. You’ve had problems with addiction in the past and left unchecked you could be prone to it again. However, you must also realize that these medications are made to balance out the symptoms relating to your BPD. Of course, you will feel better on them then you will off them. You’ve only been taking them for a week. You have to trust that you can abide by the dosage schedule without becoming reliant on them.”
He sighed and began drumming his fingers against his knee again as he remembered something that Gina had brought up to him on more than a few occasions just the other day, “It’s not just that. I can’t deal with some of the side-effects.”
“I warned you of them.”
“I know.”
“I tried to go a different route.”
“I know.”
“What do you want me to do, Caesar? I’m trying to help you but as I’ve seen umpteen times before you make this very difficult. You need to let me help you.”
“Look, doc, I’m damn near 21 years old, I’m probably about to leave college and head to the NFL, sooner or later I’m going to get some girl pregnant or marry some girl for appearances’ sake. The problem with this shit is, I know that there’s a chance that I pass this… disorder down to my son. That scares the shit out of me and I don’t want to believe any of this is real. Yeah, I’m worried about the NFL but those fuckers were going to think I was crazy regardless. I’m more worried about my personal life in the future.”
The psychiatrist nodded slowly as she digested what he’d said, “And finally, after months of prying, we make some damn progress.”
“You allowed to curse, doc?”
“It’s my practice I can say what I want,” Dr. Naquin said plainly, “Now, we move on from here. You have to be honest with the people in your life about your BPD. I understand that may be a hard thing for you to do but it will be best for the long run.”
“And if they bolt? Won’t I do my damnedest to keep people around me?” Caesar took a deep breath and somehow managed to still his fingers once more.
“If they leave then they didn’t belong in your life in the first place. Think about the people who have stuck by your side despite all of this or anything you’ve done or said to them. Those are the people that you want to keep around.”
“I keep hearing that shit.”
“Because it’s true, Mr. Jenkins. There are only so many people that we come across in our lives that deserve to be in our lives. Your problem is that you struggle to separate those people from the ones who don’t deserve that. You already know the ones that you need to keep around. You might not realize it yet but they are there.”
Caesar thought about all the people he associated himself with and tried to determine who would fit Dr. Naquin’s description. There weren’t many that he could think of so he decided to live that conversation for another day, “And what do I do about the drugs?”
“I’d recommend that you go through at least one cycle of the medication before deciding whether or not to discontinue taking them. I never thought you needed them in the first place but it’ll take away before your body get used to them.”
“Right. Just trying to make sure that I’m in playing shape. I can’t have a repeat of last week when I was about to pass out on the field from being awake all hours of the damn night. It wasn’t pretty, not pretty at all.”
“Caesar, I think we’re finally making progress in these sessions. You just have to trust me enough to believe that what I’m telling you will help you deal with everything you are facing.”
“I trust you, doc. I have no idea why, but I do. Hopefully, we get to the bottom of this by April because I don’t think I can go through the process of vetting another psychiatrist in whatever city I land in when I’m drafted.”
He’d already figured that he would probably shell out a pretty penny to retain Dr. Naquin’s services even if he was drafted by some team in the Pacific Northwest. Trusting someone enough to divulge information about his mental illness to someone he didn’t know would be a tall task, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to undertake.
The problem was that he didn’t know if this was something he was going to be able to figure out anytime soon.
woy1509
Star
- Jul 24, 2008
- 20,308
- 3,655
So with this influx of updates, you're making Brandon and I look bad (and especially Dave *hint, hint*).
Lot to take from everything. I agree with Dave with the Julie comment and believe she's the biggest reason why Caesar is comfortable with Dr. Naquin now. I wonder how long (if ever) it takes Deion to realize what he's doing to the Jenkins family.
Lot to take from everything. I agree with Dave with the Julie comment and believe she's the biggest reason why Caesar is comfortable with Dr. Naquin now. I wonder how long (if ever) it takes Deion to realize what he's doing to the Jenkins family.
I can't explain the sudden burst of writing but during our FIFA 14 clubs sesh last night, I told ol' Dave I'd update 7 times today if he updated once before 12. We can all thank him for being lazy.
yeah yeah ya big baby. (oh you mean that club sesh where i had 8 goals in 2 games?)
a sensible jenkins man?! bai gawd... but of course deion will never vocalize the fact that they dont HAVE to go pro this year, next year, or ever. but hey, the docs orders to caesar on figuring out who needs to be put in his inner circle and who needs to be kicked to the curb could help out in that regard.
a sensible jenkins man?! bai gawd... but of course deion will never vocalize the fact that they dont HAVE to go pro this year, next year, or ever. but hey, the docs orders to caesar on figuring out who needs to be put in his inner circle and who needs to be kicked to the curb could help out in that regard.
woy1509
Star
- Jul 24, 2008
- 20,308
- 3,655
Well I'm certainly not complaining. Keep them coming.
At the Footy
Brady stared blankly at the bottom of the bed above him. To say that his mind was all over the place would be an understatement. As much as he hated to admit it despite all of the winning and the early success he’d been enjoying, he was struggling to settle into life in New Orleans off-the-field.
He knew that the transition from high school senior to college freshman was difficult for probably every incoming student at every university in the world but the added workload of being the starting quarterback at the number two team in the country was making things just that much more difficult and now that the season was past its halfway point, he was finally able to reflect on things.
He’d come to learn that Tulane’s offense was more a mixture of individual stars than a team in the true sense of the word. Caesar and Jason could be considered friends but that probably had a lot to do with their similar stature on the team than any form of compatibility. After all, they’d proven numerous times that they were polar opposites.
There were better ways to build teams but who was he to argue with what they were doing? The team was undefeated through eight games again and if Devin kept making it difficult for opposing offenses to play the way they want then it was going to continue to be easy for them to beat teams.
But there was life beyond football. He was convinced that was why the team he played on at Joliet was so good. They were teammates and friends both on and off the field. So far in his team at Tulane, the majority of the people he spent most of his time with didn’t play football or weren’t athletes at all.
However, it was against his character to quit. Transferring was not an option and coaches around the country would call him a coward for leaving the keys to one of the new powerhouses’ offense on the coffee table on the way out.
His phone rang bringing him out of his reverie.
“Hello?”
“Well, don’t get too excited to hear from me, Brady.”
A faint smile spread across his face as he heard the familiar voice, “Sorry, Bridget, I didn’t check the phone before answering.”
“You’re not busy, are you?”
“No, just hanging out in my room.”
“No practice?”
“We’re going over some film later but that’s it. Apparently Coach Xavier doesn’t believe in running his quarterbacks into the ground on bye weeks.”
“That’s good.”
Brady sighed in defeat. Things have been awkward between the two of them ever since he’d decided to tell her about his night of infidelity. She’d forgiven him more than once and claimed that she understood, knowing the person he was in the past and the type of people he was around in New Orleans, but he knew that it still weighed on her mind. He’d broken a promise that he’d made to her and trust was much easier to lose than it was to learn.
He had to give it to her for trying but he knew he had to do something to get back in her good graces.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked abruptly.
“Going home for the week. Why?”
“Come to New Orleans.”
“What? Brady, that’s crazy.”
“Not really. My parents are flying down on that Tuesday. Our last game of the season is that weekend and it’s against LSU at home so we won’t have to travel. You and your parents could come down with them. Outside of practice, I won’t have anything else to do.”
“Aren’t you coming home in December?”
“It depends when our bowl is. If it’s in December then we won’t get much of a break between the last game of the season and that game. If it’s in January then yes but I don’t want to worry about what-ifs. This is guaranteed. I want to see you Bridget.”
“I don’t know, Brady. My mom is doing better, but you know, she still has her days.”
“I know but it might do her some good to move around a bit. There are actually parts of New Orleans that are nice.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Brady had shocked himself when the question had come out of his mouth. He knew Bridget wasn’t the one to agree to things on a whim but it was worth a try. He needed to get some form of normalcy back in his life if he was going to get through the rest of this season. If that meant having to dangle a carrot in front of his face to get him to final game of the regular season then seeing her for the first time in months would be that carrot.
As Devin walked into Tad Gormley Stadium, he didn’t know what shocked him more – the fact that the “home side” the over 120-year-old stadium hadn’t collapsed under the weight of a few thousand people or the fact that after only 30 seconds of play, Tulane’s women’s soccer team was leading LSU’s 1-0. Given his lackluster knowledge of the sport, he knew that being in the lead that early in any game was a good thing.
Women’s soccer was still relatively new to the Tulane athletics family, having only been around for a decade, but thanks to the meteoric rise of the football program and the steady success of the baseball team, they’d be able to use some of those funds to turn the team’s tenth season into one for the history books.
Devin applauded the ladies and their 14-1-1 record but he’d only come to the game because Alessa was working it and she demanded he take her somewhere nice which meant somewhere that didn’t serve hamburgers.
“Didn’t know you liked soccer.”
He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled, “Never took you as someone who watched it either, Kaley.”
“I’m not. To be honest, I don’t know what’s going on at all but the sorority has to earn points to keep our block seating for football and every so often I actually do something that’s asked of me.”
“I always wonder how you are still a Kappa.”
“I bring the GPA up,” she joked, “So now you know why I’m here, what’s your reason for going to a random soccer game on a Thursday? Here to look at the sexy soccer players?”
“More like here because my girlfriend asked me to come.”
“Oh yeah? Which one is she? Number 23 looks like your type,” Kaley said pointing to one of Tulane’s players, “God, she has nice legs. I’m actually jealous.”
“No, she’s not a player. She’s the one on the sideline over there with the press looking people,” Devin nodded towards where Alessa was standing.
“Where’d you find her, Devin? She’s beautiful. I would seriously debate going lesbian for her. You’ve been busy in these last few months, haven’t you?” she teased.
“Something like that. I—“
He was cut off by a group of people who realized who he was. Plastering on his best smile, he shook hands, signed things and took pictures with everyone who took the time to wish him good luck in winning the Heisman and declaring him the best player they’d ever seen play for Tulane. It was the same routine he’d become used to but he still gave everyone a bit of his time. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon, there was still plenty of time left in the game.
After what felt like an eternity, the first wave of well-wishers had returned to their seats just as Tulane doubled their lead.
“So, that’s what the humble superstar looks like?” Kaley asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You never once said you were going to win the Heisman or that the team was going to win the National Championship. You just said ‘I hope so’ or something,” she shrugged, “I don’t know I’m not used to hearing that. I remember freshman year when everyone still loved Caesar, it was the complete opposite. You’d think he was running for President not playing college football.”
“Well, you know I’ve never been one to follow his lead in many things.”
“I feel like you threw some innuendo in that, Devin.”
“Eh, I plead the fifth.”
Kaley rolled her eyes, “So, the girl down there is the one you were telling me about the last time we talked? The one that works with athletics.”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“She looks exotic. Where’s she from?”
“Brazil.”
“You would find the only Brazilian on this campus.”
“We have two Brazilians on the basketball team and one that plays tennis.”
“You would find the only Brazilian on this campus who isn’t here to play sports. That better for you?” Kaley asked sarcastically.
“I suppose that’ll do. Enough about me though. These days, my life is all over the newspapers and sports talk shows. What have you been up to?”
“School and work... Work and school. A little of this sorority stuff sprinkled in. I passed the LSAT so hopefully I’ll be accepted to the law school for next year.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m not in yet.”
“Because they aren’t going to let you in. Don’t you have a 4.0?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But nothing. I hope you aren’t getting all boring on us though, Kaley. You can’t be Mother Hen in a house with Sophie and Alison. You’re too young for that,” Devin joked.
“Are you trying to say I’m turning into a spinster?”
“If the shoe fits.”
She punched him in the shoulder for his comments, “I’m a bartender, Devin. I have all the ‘fun.’ Few things are more fun than having drunk guys think a tip is enough to get in your pants. Besides, you aren’t the only one with someone new on your arm.”
“Oh, really? Another football player?”
“I don’t only date football players.”
“Let’s see there was Caesar… and Jason… and me… and I think we all play football.”
“You and Jason don’t count. Those were one-night stands. He’s into sports, though.”
“Yeah? What sport?”
“Skateboarding.”
Devin blinked a few times before bursting into a fit of laughter, “Th—that’s not a fucking sport. It’s just some people riding around on a piece of wood like it’s still 2010. I’d say beer pong was a sport before I said skateboarding was a sport.”
“Regardless of whether or not it’s a sport, Cody’s a nice guy. Different than what I normally go for but he’s nice.”
“That’s good, Kaley. Despite the fact he thinks skateboarding is a sport, if you think he’s a nice guy then that’s good enough for me, as your friend, to approve. But, I have one question to ask.”
She raised an eyebrow, “What?”
“Does he have long hair and say ‘dude’ a lot, too? Or is that just the guys who surf that are still living in the past?”
“Stop being such an ass, Devin,” she snapped, punching his shoulder again.
“Hey, you know I need my shoulders intact to be able to lift my arms and play football, right? I don’t know if I’m ready to retire to a life a skateboarding.”
“Fuck your shoulder, dick.”
“You don’t have to be so hard, Kaley. I thought we were friends.”
“We are. I’ll come to your funeral even if I’m the one that killed you.”
Devin chuckled at the “serious” look on her face. Who knew there were such good times to be had at a soccer game?
Brady stared blankly at the bottom of the bed above him. To say that his mind was all over the place would be an understatement. As much as he hated to admit it despite all of the winning and the early success he’d been enjoying, he was struggling to settle into life in New Orleans off-the-field.
He knew that the transition from high school senior to college freshman was difficult for probably every incoming student at every university in the world but the added workload of being the starting quarterback at the number two team in the country was making things just that much more difficult and now that the season was past its halfway point, he was finally able to reflect on things.
He’d come to learn that Tulane’s offense was more a mixture of individual stars than a team in the true sense of the word. Caesar and Jason could be considered friends but that probably had a lot to do with their similar stature on the team than any form of compatibility. After all, they’d proven numerous times that they were polar opposites.
There were better ways to build teams but who was he to argue with what they were doing? The team was undefeated through eight games again and if Devin kept making it difficult for opposing offenses to play the way they want then it was going to continue to be easy for them to beat teams.
But there was life beyond football. He was convinced that was why the team he played on at Joliet was so good. They were teammates and friends both on and off the field. So far in his team at Tulane, the majority of the people he spent most of his time with didn’t play football or weren’t athletes at all.
However, it was against his character to quit. Transferring was not an option and coaches around the country would call him a coward for leaving the keys to one of the new powerhouses’ offense on the coffee table on the way out.
His phone rang bringing him out of his reverie.
“Hello?”
“Well, don’t get too excited to hear from me, Brady.”
A faint smile spread across his face as he heard the familiar voice, “Sorry, Bridget, I didn’t check the phone before answering.”
“You’re not busy, are you?”
“No, just hanging out in my room.”
“No practice?”
“We’re going over some film later but that’s it. Apparently Coach Xavier doesn’t believe in running his quarterbacks into the ground on bye weeks.”
“That’s good.”
Brady sighed in defeat. Things have been awkward between the two of them ever since he’d decided to tell her about his night of infidelity. She’d forgiven him more than once and claimed that she understood, knowing the person he was in the past and the type of people he was around in New Orleans, but he knew that it still weighed on her mind. He’d broken a promise that he’d made to her and trust was much easier to lose than it was to learn.
He had to give it to her for trying but he knew he had to do something to get back in her good graces.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked abruptly.
“Going home for the week. Why?”
“Come to New Orleans.”
“What? Brady, that’s crazy.”
“Not really. My parents are flying down on that Tuesday. Our last game of the season is that weekend and it’s against LSU at home so we won’t have to travel. You and your parents could come down with them. Outside of practice, I won’t have anything else to do.”
“Aren’t you coming home in December?”
“It depends when our bowl is. If it’s in December then we won’t get much of a break between the last game of the season and that game. If it’s in January then yes but I don’t want to worry about what-ifs. This is guaranteed. I want to see you Bridget.”
“I don’t know, Brady. My mom is doing better, but you know, she still has her days.”
“I know but it might do her some good to move around a bit. There are actually parts of New Orleans that are nice.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Brady had shocked himself when the question had come out of his mouth. He knew Bridget wasn’t the one to agree to things on a whim but it was worth a try. He needed to get some form of normalcy back in his life if he was going to get through the rest of this season. If that meant having to dangle a carrot in front of his face to get him to final game of the regular season then seeing her for the first time in months would be that carrot.
As Devin walked into Tad Gormley Stadium, he didn’t know what shocked him more – the fact that the “home side” the over 120-year-old stadium hadn’t collapsed under the weight of a few thousand people or the fact that after only 30 seconds of play, Tulane’s women’s soccer team was leading LSU’s 1-0. Given his lackluster knowledge of the sport, he knew that being in the lead that early in any game was a good thing.
Women’s soccer was still relatively new to the Tulane athletics family, having only been around for a decade, but thanks to the meteoric rise of the football program and the steady success of the baseball team, they’d be able to use some of those funds to turn the team’s tenth season into one for the history books.
Devin applauded the ladies and their 14-1-1 record but he’d only come to the game because Alessa was working it and she demanded he take her somewhere nice which meant somewhere that didn’t serve hamburgers.
“Didn’t know you liked soccer.”
He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled, “Never took you as someone who watched it either, Kaley.”
“I’m not. To be honest, I don’t know what’s going on at all but the sorority has to earn points to keep our block seating for football and every so often I actually do something that’s asked of me.”
“I always wonder how you are still a Kappa.”
“I bring the GPA up,” she joked, “So now you know why I’m here, what’s your reason for going to a random soccer game on a Thursday? Here to look at the sexy soccer players?”
“More like here because my girlfriend asked me to come.”
“Oh yeah? Which one is she? Number 23 looks like your type,” Kaley said pointing to one of Tulane’s players, “God, she has nice legs. I’m actually jealous.”
“No, she’s not a player. She’s the one on the sideline over there with the press looking people,” Devin nodded towards where Alessa was standing.
“Where’d you find her, Devin? She’s beautiful. I would seriously debate going lesbian for her. You’ve been busy in these last few months, haven’t you?” she teased.
“Something like that. I—“
He was cut off by a group of people who realized who he was. Plastering on his best smile, he shook hands, signed things and took pictures with everyone who took the time to wish him good luck in winning the Heisman and declaring him the best player they’d ever seen play for Tulane. It was the same routine he’d become used to but he still gave everyone a bit of his time. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon, there was still plenty of time left in the game.
After what felt like an eternity, the first wave of well-wishers had returned to their seats just as Tulane doubled their lead.
“So, that’s what the humble superstar looks like?” Kaley asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You never once said you were going to win the Heisman or that the team was going to win the National Championship. You just said ‘I hope so’ or something,” she shrugged, “I don’t know I’m not used to hearing that. I remember freshman year when everyone still loved Caesar, it was the complete opposite. You’d think he was running for President not playing college football.”
“Well, you know I’ve never been one to follow his lead in many things.”
“I feel like you threw some innuendo in that, Devin.”
“Eh, I plead the fifth.”
Kaley rolled her eyes, “So, the girl down there is the one you were telling me about the last time we talked? The one that works with athletics.”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“She looks exotic. Where’s she from?”
“Brazil.”
“You would find the only Brazilian on this campus.”
“We have two Brazilians on the basketball team and one that plays tennis.”
“You would find the only Brazilian on this campus who isn’t here to play sports. That better for you?” Kaley asked sarcastically.
“I suppose that’ll do. Enough about me though. These days, my life is all over the newspapers and sports talk shows. What have you been up to?”
“School and work... Work and school. A little of this sorority stuff sprinkled in. I passed the LSAT so hopefully I’ll be accepted to the law school for next year.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m not in yet.”
“Because they aren’t going to let you in. Don’t you have a 4.0?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But nothing. I hope you aren’t getting all boring on us though, Kaley. You can’t be Mother Hen in a house with Sophie and Alison. You’re too young for that,” Devin joked.
“Are you trying to say I’m turning into a spinster?”
“If the shoe fits.”
She punched him in the shoulder for his comments, “I’m a bartender, Devin. I have all the ‘fun.’ Few things are more fun than having drunk guys think a tip is enough to get in your pants. Besides, you aren’t the only one with someone new on your arm.”
“Oh, really? Another football player?”
“I don’t only date football players.”
“Let’s see there was Caesar… and Jason… and me… and I think we all play football.”
“You and Jason don’t count. Those were one-night stands. He’s into sports, though.”
“Yeah? What sport?”
“Skateboarding.”
Devin blinked a few times before bursting into a fit of laughter, “Th—that’s not a fucking sport. It’s just some people riding around on a piece of wood like it’s still 2010. I’d say beer pong was a sport before I said skateboarding was a sport.”
“Regardless of whether or not it’s a sport, Cody’s a nice guy. Different than what I normally go for but he’s nice.”
“That’s good, Kaley. Despite the fact he thinks skateboarding is a sport, if you think he’s a nice guy then that’s good enough for me, as your friend, to approve. But, I have one question to ask.”
She raised an eyebrow, “What?”
“Does he have long hair and say ‘dude’ a lot, too? Or is that just the guys who surf that are still living in the past?”
“Stop being such an ass, Devin,” she snapped, punching his shoulder again.
“Hey, you know I need my shoulders intact to be able to lift my arms and play football, right? I don’t know if I’m ready to retire to a life a skateboarding.”
“Fuck your shoulder, dick.”
“You don’t have to be so hard, Kaley. I thought we were friends.”
“We are. I’ll come to your funeral even if I’m the one that killed you.”
Devin chuckled at the “serious” look on her face. Who knew there were such good times to be had at a soccer game?
goddamn making us all look bad.
i dunno what the implications of having his girl come visit are. i dont think caesar would try and stick it in and i dont get that vibe from any other players so guess itll be some one-on-one time for them. as for devin and kaley a little budding going on there. kaley better careful alessa doesnt kill her.
i dunno what the implications of having his girl come visit are. i dont think caesar would try and stick it in and i dont get that vibe from any other players so guess itll be some one-on-one time for them. as for devin and kaley a little budding going on there. kaley better careful alessa doesnt kill her.