The Senior Year

By Bill Liggins

At a predominantly white university, four black men form the core of a community of strength and support that is envied by others.
Through their first three years at Gulf Atlantic University, Tommy Sims, Mitch Erickson, Pepper Ashton, and Carl Dorset had built up networks of allies, making each of them resistant to the challenges thrown at them by this enormous university.
With only THE SENIOR YEAR remaining in their campus lives, the young men team up to maintain their powerful sense of self and, for one more year, fight off the distractions and troubles threatening their goals.
With its moments of triumph, wisps of reminiscence and underlying anxiety, THE SENIOR YEAR is the culmination of these student’s first nervous steps into the real world.
Tragically, one of them won’t make it to their graduation day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532085505

Bill Liggins

BILL LIGGINS is a graduate of Cleveland State University with degrees in Geology and Communications. He is an award-winning writer with five other novels on the market: TABLE OF THE SUN, I NEED; I WANT, UNDYING LOVE, NOVA CHASERS, and WARNING. He is a native of Cleveland, Ohio, and a current resident of Tampa, Florida, with his wife. He was also a TV sportscaster, actor, and a documentary film producer with two regional EMMY nominations, two national CableACE awards, and two Associated Press Awards to his credit.

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CHAPTER 1

LIFE BEGINS WHEN CHILDHOOD ENDS. Be ready.

Tommy’s mother always said that to him. Whenever he was in trouble, it was calming advice. Whenever he forgot his chores, it was an education. Whenever his grades fell, it was a warning.

Now, in his final year of college his mother’s words were flashing beacons in his mind.

Life begins when childhood ends. Be ready.

Am I ready?

Tommy’s eyes snapped open when his shoulder bumped the wall of his bus seat. Speed bumps at the entry an alley between two old bus terminals jostled the vehicle. His trip took six hours from the Florida Panhandle but didn’t seem as long because of his restful sleep.

Tampa station, the driver called out.

Tommy yawned, stretched, then tilted his seat forward. He briefly checked his phone. No messages. When his bus stopped at a parking space, Tommy scooted out to the aisle. There were only six other passengers getting off here. Five of them were like Tommy, college students.

Outside, they waited for the driver to unlock a luggage bin. Feeling the humidity of the morning, Tommy rolled up his sleeves. He felt a vibration from his phone and quickly yanked it from his pocket. He saw a message: Look behind you. Tommy turned and saw a stylish young woman, Sheryl Roebuck, in cut white denim slacks, a thin blue blouse and a heart-stopping smile on her golden brown face.

Hey! He scampered to her and lifted her up in his arms. I missed you.

I missed you too, she said softly.

They dove into each other’s lips with tongue dancing suction. Their fervent display of affection brought a halt to all activities around the bus.

The driver pulled out another bag and noticed none of his passengers were picking them up. He then saw what was distracting them. He straightened up and put his hands on his hips.

Aye, boy! Take your mouth off that girl and get your bag! I ain’t got all day! The others around the bus snickered.

Tommy broke his hold on Sheryl and picked up his huge backpack and a garment bag. She held his garment bag as they walked away from the bus.

My car’s over here, she said.

The summer seemed longer this time. Tommy hoisted his bag on his shoulders and embraced her waist, pulling her closer. So umm. I guess we’re picking up where we left off last spring, right?

You see I’m here.

Yeah. You sure are. You know, I had some crazy dreams about you.

Oh really?

A tract of land near Tampa, two thousand acres in size, was a gargantuan garden of academia with massive buildings scattered over rolling greenery, around placid ponds and lakes. Soothing fountains and elegant rainbow bridges were blissful accents to this place.

This was the campus of Gulf Atlantic University where quiet was the norm during the summer. But at the end of August, forty-thousand students converged here. The Fall Semester was beginning.

Marching band members gathered in drumlines pounding out complicated cadences as a welcome to the gathering students. Trails and sidewalks between the massive buildings and dorms couldn’t hold back all the students and their luggage from trampling down the lush lawns.

On the streets, parent driven cars gave forth TV’s, small dressers, foot lockers, and plastic bags full of the belongings of underclassmen unsure as to how much they needed to live comfortably away from home.

The upperclassmen stood out because they had the least. Mitch Erickson was one of them, only carrying a garment bag. With his dark skin, shaven head, and tall svelte physique, he was a magically charming senior who had the freshmen girls pausing their steps, and the senior girls giggling.

A group of five women with pull-handle suitcases, two blacks, a South Asian and two Koreans passed Mitch and said in unison, Hi, Mitch.

Hey, baby. Mitch spun slowly, eying the giggling ladies.

The South Asian said in her Hindi accent, Magic Mitch, as she walked away.

He smiled his dimpled best, displaying a mouthful of glowing teeth. He draped his garment bag over his shoulder and continued his swaggering strut toward his dorm building.

Charm. But do no harm. Shock ’em with your God given talents.

His grandmother’s voice was still clear in his mind and became a motivating force driving Mitch to his time of anticipated triumphs.

He passed through a courtyard with a tent city of student organizations, two students from the Black Student Union tent called out to Mitch. He smiled and waved back. He noticed a deep debate between members of the Muslim Student League and the Jewish Student Union. He walked past the Gay/Straight Coalition tent, the Junior Democrats tent, the Junior Republicans tent, and the Left/Right coalition. At least one person in each was handing out flyers or shouting at each passing student like a market hawker trying to drum up business.

Mitch tried to be unnoticed as he passed through a cluster of fraternity tents, but many of the men in the tents called out his name. He came to a stop when three intimidating white men blocked his path each wearing gold and black tee-shirts with Greek letters on them.

Mitch lowered his garment bag, sighed and shook his head. We’re not going to do this again, are we, Gordy?

Gordy, the biggest of the three men, stepped forward. Yeah we’re going to do this again.

A couple of the men from a black fraternity stepped out their tent watching the situation closely. Passing students noticed the building confrontation and stopped. There was a crowd around the edge of the tent cluster.

Gordy balled up his fists. The muscles in his forearms bulged forth. Pent up intensity narrowed his eyes. His thin lips pressed together even tighter. He was almost snorting through his nostrils.

Mitch just stood there with a bored look on his face, waiting for Gordy to make his move.

Finally, Gordy pounded his chest twice. Gamma Alpha-Alpha is the best fraternity on the Earth!

His two frat brothers cross their arms on their chests and repeated Gamma Alpha-Alpha is the best fraternity on the Earth!

The best – only want the best! Gordy said.

The best always rises to the top, his two frat brothers sang.

Gamma Alpha-Alpha wants you! All three men pointed at Mitch.

G-A Square wants YOU, all three men said.

Mitch only chuckled. The men of the black fraternity fell over each other with belly laughter. Ain’t gonna work, one of them said.

Mitch glanced over at them. Then gave Gordy a sympathetic smile.

Look, Gordy. I appreciate your group and all. Mitch pointed to the laughing frat brothers. But I turned them down. I turned down the Kappas, the Omegas, the Alphas, the Iotas – I’d probably even turn down the Skull and Bones if I were at Yale.

The intimidating men broke down in posture.

Gordy pleaded with Mitch with his arms out wide. Awe come on, Mitch. We’ve been trying for three years to recruit you.

Can’t do it, man. Sorry.

Why not?

I told you. I’m not the frat type. None-phi-none for me. I’m interested only in Phi-Beta-Kappa ’til I take my walk in the Spring.

Phi Beta Kappa? They don’t have a house in the Greek Village.

It’s an honor society for college grads.

Oh. Gordy shook his head. Well, you’re missing out on our world-wide connections.

I’m sorry, Mitch repeated, then walked away from them. Good luck this year, Gordy.

Yeah, you too. Yo, Mitch!

Mitched turned back. Yeah?

You’re still coming to the party Friday Night, right?

I’ll be there. Mitch continued his walk.

The Green on Alumni Court, eight o’clock! All the Greeks will be there, even those guys! Gordy looked at the black frat tent and they all waved at him, then continued their giggling.

He ain’t joining nothing, Gordy, one of them shouted back.

Mitch pulled his phone from a back pocket and clicked it. He looked at one side of the street, then the other. All he saw were forty-year old dorm buildings, constructed during a time when student comfort was a minimal consideration. Mitch was familiar with these dorms having stayed there for three years. They were nothing more than cramped spaces for two or more students in one room. His senior year housing was in a different and new section of the campus. He checked his phone again for the name of the complex: The Groves Student Residences.

After walking another block and a half, he found a large soothing fountain at the entry to a newly constructed area. At the base of the fountain’s walls were crystalline letters forming the words ‘The Groves.’

Mitch placed his phone back in his pocket and looked beyond the fountain. This was not a normal dorm complex. It was a resort. Mitch saw stairs descending onto a plaza of exquisitely landscaped lawns, newly planted hardwood and palm trees, arching trellises with vines and flowers, gleaming cement foot paths, and even an artificial babbling brook with three large sculptures of black panthers, the school’s mascot, in the middle of the flowing water.

Around the plaza were five residential buildings, each six stories tall, with muted shades of blue, green, and red on their festive walls. Each unit had huge windows inspired by the best beach resorts. There was no beach here, only a resort style pool with lap markers for the serious swimmers, and blue recesses for keeping cool while socializing. A specious fitness center was across a paved walkway from the pool. Abutted against it was a vast food court that would have made shopping mall administrators envious.

Mitch chuckled, but was still unsure if this was where he was supposed to be. He pulled out his keycard sleeve and checked the address. The Groves, Pinnacle 137. Each building had a name at the top. He looked up and found the building closest to the fitness center was the Pinnacle Building. He adjusted his garment bag and jogged down the steps to the plaza.

He entered the Pinnacle. Its hallway floors and gleaming walls dazzled his eyes. A blond girl wearing a skin-tight, one-piece workout suit, exited one of the ground floor apartments. Her eyes lit up when she saw Mitch.

Hey, Mitch. She jogged up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You’re living here this year?

Yeah. I guess my boys are with me too.

I hope that includes Pepper.

Yeah. He’s probably waiting for me. Hey, Mandy, how do I get to one-thirty-seven?

You’re three doors down from me, left side.

Thanks. This is amazing.

Yeah, I know, right? Wait until see the unit. Everyone has their own bedroom here. Mandy took a quick glance at her phone. Gotta run. See you later?

Yeah. Take care.

Mandy jogged away. Mitch found his door and lowered his bag. He pulled out his keycard again and rubbed it on a circular plate near the door handle. A green light flashed. When Mitch opened the door, he was confronted by more living space than a college student could expect. This was no cramped college accommodation. He walked into a kitchen with a breakfast bar, refrigerator, electric stove and microwave oven. And beyond it was an actual living room bathed in sunlight from one of the huge windows. It had a couch, a lounge chair, a desk set, and a forty-five inch plasma TV. Unconsciously, Mitch whistled.

A bellicose voice startled Mitch. HEY! WHO’S WHISTLING IN MY HOUSE!

He whipped his head to the left and saw charging toward him a muscular, six-foot four, tank-top wearing black man with piercing black eyes, a clean-shaven face and short thick hair. It was his roommate.

Ayyyeee, Pepper! Mitch and Pepper clasped hands and embraced.

Mitch – Mitch – Mitch! The summer hadn’t changed you.

The summer looks like it changed you. You look a little more cut on the arms, bruh.

Yeah, the trainer said I needed to bulk up a little. Something about being a top-five pick in the NFL Draft.

Hey-hey, superstar.

What can I say. Pepper flexed one of his biceps.

A little bit more and you might give me a run with the ladies. They clasped hands again.

Shiiit. Pepper stepped back and held his arm out. So, what do you think of the place?

I might add a second major just so I could stay here longer. How did we get this? And how was it arranged for four black men to room together?

Who am I?

Pepper Ashton, Mitch answered.

And I’m what?

A quarterback.

Naw! I am THE starting quarterback on THE number ten team in the country – pre-season All-American Pepper Ashton! Pepper leaned into Mitch. Now, do you think that has some pull on this campus?

I guess so.

Damn skippy. We got four bedrooms. Pepper pointed to Mitch’s left. Two this way with a bathroom. He pointed to Mitch’s right. And two this way with another bathroom. We can do some cooking if we need to. Got a game console equipped plasma TV. And an air conditioning system that’s brand new and won’t break down."

Shit, this is the student penthouse, Mitch said.

The door clicked open and entering was a short, light brown, baby-faced student, Carl Rush. He wore perfectly creased jeans, black sneakers, and a button-down white shirt. A smile grew on his face when he saw his roomies.

MITCHEL!

C-MAN!

They clasped hands and embraced briefly.

How was Miami? Carl asked.

Still dangerous. You stayed here all summer?

Had to. We’re upgrading the student radio station. Want to make sure it’s done before I leave. So? What do you think of the new dorm?

Mitch shook his head. This ain’t no dorm, kid. Not one I ever saw before.

Pepper draped his muscular arm over Carl’s shoulder and asked, So, who’s your best friend?

You are, Carl and Mitch said together.

Pepper cupped his right hand around his right ear. And who am I?

The door opened again, and Tommy stepped in dragging his huge backpack. What up, men.

TOMMY! the others said in unison.

How’s it going? Carl pulled Tommy through the door into an embrace, revealing Sheryl behind him. Carl’s eyes widened when he saw her. Mitch and Pepper’s jaws dropped.

Whew – better than I thought, Pepper said.

There’s a new blossom in the garden, gents, Mitch said. He activated his charm, closed his mouth and straightened his shirt. Well hello there.

Hello, Sheryl replied

Tommy stepped in front of Mitch. This is my lady, Sheryl Roebuck. Babe, these are my roommates. He tapped Carl on his shoulder. This is Carl Rush, that kid I told you about who runs WGAU Radio.

Nice to meet you, Carl said, shaking her hand.

Me too, Sheryl said.

This is Pepper Ashton. You may know him.

Everyone does. Sheryl hopped slightly when shaking his hand. Very nice to meet you, Pepper.

Nice to meet you too, Sherry

And this is Mitch Erickson. I hope you don’t know him.

Mitch stepped in and grabbed her hand with both of his, raising it close to his face. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sherry. And I have never felt such a soft hand.

Sheryl giggled and glanced over at Tommy.

Turn it off Mitch, Tommy said.

Pepper tapped Mitch on the shoulder. Rules – rules – rules.

Yeah. Uh, yeah. Good luck with your studies this year. Mitch released her hand and stepped back.

What class are you in? Carl asked.

Senior, Sheryl said. Just like you.

Are you in this building? Pepper asked.

No. Rosenthal Apartments, off campus. But this place is amazing.

Plenty of space, Carl said.

Wouldn’t know you were here if Tommy wanted to bring you over, Pepper said.

Uh, Pep? Mitch cleared his throat and subtly shook his head.

I’m just sayin’.

Well, I guess I better go, Sheryl said. Nice to meet you all. Tommy and Sheryl embraced for a soft kiss. Bye, Thomas.

When the door closed, Tommy’s roommates surrounded him. Each of them had angry looks but said nothing.

Tommy flung his arms wide. What?

Pepper poked his finger in Tommy’s chest with each word, You’ve been holding out on us, Thomas.

When did you meet her? Mitch asked.

She’s an Archaeology major too and …

Yeah, but how did you get with her? Pepper asked.

Well, last year on the field trip to …

Does she have any sisters? Mitch asked.

I don’t …

She must have a car, ’cause you don’t, Pepper said.

Yeah, she …

What’s her …

Hold on a minute! Carl said. Let the man put his stuff away first.

Thank you, C-man. Tommy hoisted his garment bag and backpack. Which room is mine?

You’re next to me in the east wing. Carl entered a short hallway off the kitchen.

Tommy followed him but paused. He turned back to Pepper and Mitch. She’s something, huh?

Pepper began barking.

Haven’t hit it? Should! Mitch said as Pepper continued barking. See, Carl! If Tommy can do it, there must be some hope for you!

Don’t start with me, Carl said from the hall.

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CHAPTER 2

DOZENS OF MASSIVE YOUNG MEN crashed head-on into each other in brutal drills, testing their strength, endurance, and courage. The cracking of their pads, their deep grunts and battle cries sounded off from the football complex where violent hits were routine.

At GAU, football was the alpha sport. Other teams had their practices; soccer, Fall baseball, and tennis. But those athletes always kept an eye on the football practice field where the most exciting team in school history went about their drills.

Screaming coaches rode their men hard. Small blood stains spackled many of their white jerseys. Some limped to the sidelines with pulled muscles and deep bruises. Pepper felt soreness too, and could have taken a break, but his father’s words always helped him overcome many obstacles in life.

It’s not about the pain or the injury. It’s all about the recovery. How will you recover?

Pepper was in the middle of this carnage, but the coaches didn’t want him hit like the others. He and the other quarterbacks were too valuable, so he wore a green ‘do not hit this man’ jersey.

He stood five paces behind his massive offensive linemen calling out signals in his loudest gravelly voice.

READY! Pepper looked at the defense facing him. He noticed the linebackers shifting to his right. Check! Check! Rock 80 opal! Rock 80 opal! SET! Pepper held his hands wide and slammed them close to each other without clapping them. The offense remained motionless, but the defense flinched. As they tried getting back into position, Pepper quickly clapped his hands as a signal to his center to hike the ball. Both lines collided. Pepper circled backwards toward his right. He eyed a receiver on the right sideline. The defenders followed his eyes and drifted toward that direction. Suddenly, Pepper stopped, turned left where one of his receivers was all alone. He raised elbow and snapped his arm forward. The ball arched high like a plump but elegant, missile that floated into the receiver’s hands fifty-five yards down field. Most of the players hooted and screamed out their joy over the gorgeous play.

One of the assistant coaches, Rocco ‘Coach Rock’ DeRosa, ran up to Pepper and slapped him on the butt. See? What’d I tell ya! Rock 80, baby! Rock 80!

After the play, two of Pepper’s massive linemen ran to the sideline for water. They removed their helmets and sprayed the squirt bottles on their faces. One of them opened his eyes on a nearby grassy knoll off the playing field where student spectators lounged on picnic blankets. One of them pique his interest in the extreme.

She had an exquisite pair of smooth milk-chocolate legs emerging from very short cut-offs leading to flip-flops that framed feet that were equally as attractive. Her hippy stride made the young lineman forget about his thirst. She unfurled a blanket from her arms, revealing a blessed chest within a tank top. And then he saw her face – brilliant almond shaped eyes, full lips, glowing teeth, and shoulder blade length hair swept over to her right.

Damn, he said softly. The lineman tugged the arm of his teammate who was still consuming his water.

Bash?

What?

Who the hell is that?

Bash swallowed another mouthful, then turned to the grassy knoll.

Where? Bash asked.

Open your eyes. The girl laying out the blanket.

Oh. Bash snickered. Let her be, Froshy. That’s Pep’s girl, Trina Davis. They call her ‘the concept’.

Concept?

Yeah, an idea we strive for, but rarely get. Pep got it.

Damn, Froshy said. Fricken quarterbacks, man.

Yeah. Relax, there are other ideas.

Trina sat on her blanket, looked up and waved in the direction of the linemen. They weren’t sure if she was waving at them. She wasn’t. Pepper jogged up to the water station and blew a kiss to her.

Nice play, Pep, Bash said.

Yeah, real nice, Froshy said, still looking at Trina.

Thanks. Pepper took a couple quick gulps then jogged back out to the field.

The linemen took another look at Trina, catching her taking a selfie with her pink phone.

After another hour, Rob Montez, the head coach blew his whistle three times ending practice. Instead of exhausted athletes trudging back to the locker rooms, the ninety players gathered as a bunch at mid-field jumping in unison, chanting their team name, PANTHERS! PANTHERS! PANTHERS! They then broke up and jogged to the football center locker room.

Pepper veered off from them toward a short fence separating the knoll from the practice field. He pulled off his jersey and pads, leaving only a thin, sweat-wicking, tank top. Trina held her blanket, waiting for him at the fence. She rose up on