Chapter 19
Rico Briggs
Should Have Listened
“Now that’s how you play football, Rico! That’s what the fuck I’m talking about man! Let’s gooooo!” my teammate Gio yelled, hitting me multiple times on my chest, as we were in the locker room, celebrating our big win against Florida State.
I balled my ass off out there on that field today.
I played the best that I’ve probably played in my entire years of playing football.
All night when I was on the field, I could hear Tank’s voice in my head, basically telling me not to allow Toby to make a bitch out of me, and to have me walking around here, afraid of that nigga.
I did my thing tonight, getting eight catches, got well over 200 yards, and I scored two touchdowns.
We played in Tallahassee tonight, and last night, Toby hit my phone back to back, more than likely to tell me about the ticket that he’d put in, and the way that he wanted me to play for him, but I didn’t answer the phone for him.
I ignored all his calls. That didn’t stop him from sending me messages, letting me know what his ticket was, all the while threatening me that I better play it.
I’m not going to lie, I was gambling with my life by going against that nigga, but there was a piece of me that believed Tank when he told me that I didn’t need to walk around, allowing those niggas to put fear in my heart.
I celebrated in the locker room with my teammates, along with my coaches.
We turned up in the locker room for about an hour, and then I finally hit the shower.
I changed, throwing on a sweat suit, socks, and some slides.
I walked out of the locker room, with my gym bag over my shoulder, going to meet my dad out front.
My pops didn’t miss a game. This man didn’t care if we were going to have a football game way across the world; he was going to be there.
I knew where he would be, so I walked, finding him, and once I did, like he was the proudest father in the world. He quickly came over to me, and I don’t know if this nigga had been crying, or if he was just tired, but his eyes were blood shot red.
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about son! I’m proud of you, man!” he beamed, his arms wrapped around me, hugging me tightly. I got a little emotional myself, listening to my pops tell me that he was proud of me, and feeling the tight hold that he had on me.
A good man had raised me. As a kid, my pops used to work at the train station, fixing up the trains, but it wasn’t enough money for him, so he would do his thing in the streets too, moving a little weight.
The drug money was just for him to take care of home.
He saw that I’d grown a liking for football, so at five years old, he took me out on the field and signed me up.
My dad never played football, but he liked to watched it, so as a kid, I would get a lot of training in with him.
He was super hands-on when it came to me playing football, and that’s why there was this piece of me that felt like I owed him, but every time that I would tell him that, he would always tell me that I already paid him back by staying out the streets, going to college to play ball, and one day getting to play in the NFL.
“You must have got some pussy last night, playing like that. Boy, you showed out!” he hyped me, and I couldn’t do shit but laugh at him.
“Nah. That ass whopping that Bama put on us last weekend just woke up the dog in me,” I lied, knowing that that’s not the real reason why I played my ass off tonight.
He was happy, smiling from ear to ear, as we walked out of the stadium, and headed to his truck, so that we could ride out, and get some food.
It took us longer than usual to make it to the truck because I kept getting stopped every few seconds with fans wanting to take pictures with me.
We eventually made it, and I quickly got in the passenger seat, put my gym bag down on the floor, and the whole time, my phone was going off in my pockets.
I didn’t look at it though. I didn’t care to see who was calling me.
A big piece of me knew that Toby was hitting me and was probably angry that I had fucked up his ticket, and that’s why I wouldn’t check my phone.
“Where you want to go?” my dad asked me once he’d gotten in the car.
“Shit. Let’s go get some wings,” I told him, and he nodded, saying that he knew a good spot for us to go to.
He pulled out of the parking lot, and I just slouched down in the chair, having my mind wonder.
“You talked to your sister today? She told you that she’s thinking about moving to Cali?” he asked me.
“Nah. She ain’t tell me that. What she trying to move to Cali for? I love my sister to death, but that’s the most indecisive person that I ever met in my life,” I told him, and he laughed.
“That’s my baby, and I love her too, but I agree with you.
I guess Cali showing her a lot of love out there with her poetry shit that she got going on, so she’s entertaining the move.
She claims that Miami not big on supporting, and showing love, so she wants to move out west. Your mama trying to convince her to stay though,” he let me know.
Seren didn’t know what the hell she wanted to do. I couldn’t wait until I signed to the NFL, so that I could really spoil my sister the way that I wanted to, and her ass didn’t have to work.
We eventually pulled up to this wing spot in Tally that my pops swore had the best wings in town.
It was a hole in the wall kind of spot, so he might know what he was talking about.
I just wanted a night out with my old man, where I didn’t have to get recognized, so I pulled the hoodie over my head, as I followed him into the spot.
The second we were inside, we were greeted by the hostess, who took us to the back, walking us over to a booth.
My pops sat on one side, and I sat on the other.
The whole time, my phone was vibrating in my pockets.
“Ima use the restroom right quick. If the waitress come, order me a Bud Light,” my pops let me know, and I nodded my head.
He got up, and left, and that’s when I pulled my phone out, looking at it, seeing that my baby mama was hitting me. I answered the phone, putting it to my ear.
“What’s up?” I asked her.
“I’m about to leave the shop. I’m on my last head. Who is Toby?” she asked me, and the second she asked me that shit, I swear my heart dropped to my fuckin stomach.
“Why? What happened? Why you asking me about that nigga?” I fired off question after question.
“Because he’s here. I don’t know him, but he seems cool. He told me to tell you that he’s been calling you,” she said, sounding oblivious to what the fuck was going on here.
“Ay, are you cool? Use your motha fuckin brain, Promise! You knew I had a fuckin game tonight bruh! That don’t seem odd to you that a nigga telling you that he’s been calling me, knowing that I was on the field, playing? Where the fuck is Romy? You got her in the shop with you?” I barked at her.
“Why the fuck are you screaming at me, Rico! Yes, I have Romy. She’s right here, but she’s in her stroller, and she’s sleeping. What the fuck is going on?” she screamed.
Hearing her say that my daughter was in the shop with her had me sweating.
I wasn’t sure the amount of money that Rico lost tonight, but I’m sure that it was a lot.
He always bet big. Last night, he sent me over his predications, and I did everything opposite tonight of what he had predicted.
This nigga just pulled up to my baby mama’s salon, where my daughter was, and I felt like I was going to pass out at any second.
I knew why he was there. That wasn’t a friendly visit.
“Ay, Ima ask you something, and don’t make this shit obvious. Just say yes or no. You got your gun on you?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she responded.
“Where is it?” I wanted to know.
“Right here. In my purse,” she casually said it, making her voice sound normal, working with me, trying not to draw too much attention.
“That’s that nigga on the phone? Let me holla at him,” I heard Toby’s voice in the background.
There was a bunch of shuffling with the phone, and I could hear Promise yelling for him to stop, and that made me stand up out of my seat, phone glued to my ear, trying to find out what the fuck was going on. I was seven hours away from them, and I felt like shit in this moment. I felt helpless.
“I don’t know why you did that Rico. That was foolish as hell of you. I lost a lot of money today nigga,” his voice taunted me.
“Ay nigga, leave my daughter, and my baby mama the fuck alone. Whatever money you lost today, I’ll wire that shit to you,” I let him know.
“That’s not how that works, my man,” and like that, the call disconnected. My dad came back to the table, and his eyes were on me, looking at me with pure confusion.
“We gotta go,” was all I said to him, and I rushed out of the restaurant.
The only thing that was on my mind right now was my daughter.
If that nigga did something to my daughter, I can’t even begin to think what I would do.
Whatever dreams of football that I was chasing would be over because I knew for a fact that I would be going to prison for murder.
I would without a doubt kill that nigga if he harmed my child.