Complex, Caspar Ambrose [read 50 shades of grey txt] 📗

Complex

Steven looked into his baby girl’s eyes.

 

Those beautiful hazel eyes held the key to his world. From the first moment she had wrapped her little hand around his finger, he knew she had captured his heart. And every day that Steven laid eyes on his daughter, he felt a swell of pride at the life he had helped to bring into this world.

 

“Daddy has to go to work now,” he spoke softly to the infant. In return, he received a small giggle, coupled with a tiny burp, from the little life that lay in the crib in the one bedroom apartment Steven and his wife occupied. “But I’m going to work hard and by the time you are old enough to run around and play, it will be in a yard with green grass and a big playset. All for you.”

 

Another giggle erupted from his daughter's tiny frame. This put a smile on Steven’s otherwise stressed features.

 

“One day we’ll be out of this apartment and on our way to a better life,” Steven said as he bent down to kiss his daughter. “Till then, have a good day my little princess.”

 

After kissing his daughter and looking around the bedroom that all three in the family shared, Steven made his way out to the living room where his wife was lying on the couch. She had been suffering from minor depression ever since the birth of their daughter two months ago. And today, it seemed especially bad. One year ago today was when her father had killed himself. And even after one year, Steven knew it to be something that weighed heavy on her mind.

 

“How are you holding up there?” Steven already knew the answer, but wanted to hear from her what her thoughts were.

 

“I’m just tired,” she gave her standard answer for when she wanted to avoid talking about something. After three years of marriage, Steven had figured out what her different standard responses were. “What time will you be off work tonight?”

 

“We’re supposed to be done with today's project by four,” he replied to his wife. “Though if you want to visit your father's grave, I can talk to my boss about getting off a little earlier.”

 

To this, she gave him a defeated looking smile and then began to sob. Steve walked over to his wife and put his arms around her, sitting next to her in a tight embrace.

 

“What’s the matter,” he said soothingly. “What’s got you worked up?”

 

“It’s just that between my father and the new baby my mind is going a million different directions.”

 

Steven didn’t say anything. Only comforted her through his embrace. They sat just like that for a few minutes while she sobbed softly into his chest. And then finally, after most of the tears had stopped, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

 

“Steven I’m afraid of the future,” she said, a few straggling tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I’m afraid that since I’m not working that we are never going to get out of this place. I’m afraid that our daughter is going to grow up in the same cycle of shit that we both saw. I’m afraid that we both finished college for nothing because neither of us can find jobs that pay much more than we were making before college. I just want Jubilee to have a better life than we had growing up and better opportunities. And I’m afraid that is never going to happen.”

 

Steven put his hand to his wife's face and used his thumb to wipe away the tears which moved slowly beneath her beautiful blue eyes. An act that was in vain, as more began to come out, her head returned to the spot on his chest where she always cried, right above his heart. He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Mainly because he didn’t know what to say. These were the same fears that he struggled with every day. Had struggled with every second since his daughter was born. Alongside the intense happiness that he felt at having his daughter in his life, was the crippling fear that he wouldn’t be able to help her have a better life than he and his wife had growing up. So instead of saying anything, he kept quiet and let her sob into his chest. After about two minutes the crying faded into a few tiny sniffles and then she raised her head again.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said using her hands to wipe away the remaining tears on her face. “I know that I need to be more optimistic.”

 

“We’re going to make it Angela,” he said to his wife. “We’re going to get through this and in the end be better people because of it. Be a better family because of it. Any day now I could get a promotion, my boss has already been talking about it now that I’m out of school. And when you are feeling better you’re going to find something too. A job that you love and that utilizes your talents. Just give it some time.”

 

This brought a small smile to her face.

 

“You’re right,” she said. Then kissed him. “It’s time for you to get going. You don’t want to be late.”

 

Steven kissed his wife once more and then arose from the couch. Before he left though he put his hand to her cheek one more time. He looked deep into her eyes, down into her soul.

 

“I love you, Angela,” he said. “I love you and our daughter more than life itself. And we will make it to a better place.”

 

“I love you too Steven,” she replied, her hand covering his as she closed her eyes momentarily and relished his touch.

 

He looked at his watch, time to leave. Before leaving, he kissed his wife on the cheek and turned around, making his way towards the door. As he opened the door he bent down and picked up his tool case, preparing for another day of construction work.

 

“I’ll see you tonight babe,” he said. “Keep your chin up.”

 

Steven received one last smile from her and then went out the door, closing it softly behind him. He would miss breakfast this morning as he was leaving later than usual, but that was something that he could live with. His only hope was that his wife would begin to feel better and break out of her depression. But he pushed those thoughts to the side as he proceeded down the hallway towards the elevators which would take him to the ground floor.

 

The walls of the hallway were covered with graffiti. When they had first moved into the apartment complex a year and a half ago, the management would repaint the halls once a month. But over the past few months it seemed that they had given up, and just let the graffiti accumulate. That combined with the rotten smell of garbage which emanated throughout the hallway, coming from the trash chute in the middle, was enough to make Steven embarrassed about where he lived.

 

He arrived at the elevator, the doors opened before he even had the chance to hit the down button. The lone occupant of the elevator walked out, a man about Steven’s age whom he knew to be named Dean. The man lived just a few units down from Steven.

 

“How are you today Dean?” Steven gave him a smile.

 

“Another day another dollar Steve,” Dean replied.

 

He liked Steven. The man minded his own business and was always friendly to him. Dean turned and watched the elevator doors close. Then began walking to the unit he lived in. He knew about this time that his crew would be there, probably pissing off his girl. But he didn’t give a shit. All she did was spend money. And the only thing he was concerned with was making more of it. So she could complain all she wanted to. But as long as he could hustle, and as long as the money was coming in, then her complaints weren’t any of his concern

 

Music was already pounding from behind the door. The hard beats that Dean and the crew liked. The kind of beats that got him ready for the streets. Ready to make money any way necessary.

 

He put his key into the lock and opened it up, greeted by a fresh blast of chronic smoke emanating from inside the room like dragons breath.

 

“Yo Dean what it do homie,” he was immediately greeted by his closest of associates, Two Hands. The man on more than one occasion had used his talents to save Dean's ass. And out of all his crew, this was the reason Dean liked to keep Two Hands the closest.

 

Two Hands was standing behind the counter in the kitchen wrapping up a fresh blunt. The other three members of his crew were sitting on the couch in the living room in front of the kitchen playing some video game. They all turned their heads whenever Dean walked through the door.

 

“Yo mother fucker what’s happening,” CJ said as Dean walked over to the recliner next to the couch and sat down. “Fucking cops ain’t gonna keep the main man down for long.”

 

Dean had just returned from the police station after getting busted for a blunt he had been smoking when he was driving around. It was nothing. He was out about an hour after posting bail. And the city was so busy with the fiends and the killers that he probably wouldn’t even get court papers about it.

 

“A little money here and a little money there and I’m out,” said Dean as his man Nate passed a half-smoked blunt his way. “A little money is all they want anywise.”

 

“True that,” Starks, the last of Deans crew, said. He was mainly focused on the fighting game that he and CJ were playing but was half listening to the conversation.

 

Dean took a fat hit from the blunt. Slowly getting faded. It did the trick. Everything that had been troubling Dean about money and the police and his girl and a better life slowly left his head space. In its place was just faded clarity.

 

“What’s the plan, Dean?” Two Hands said after returning and sitting on the recliner next to Dean’s. He sparked the blunt he had just been rolling, bringing another into the rotation. “We ain’t making money just sitting here and smoking.”

 

“No lie,” Dean said. He took a few more moments to relish in the clouded feeling permeating his brain. And then began to ponder what their options were.

 

They had just lost their main connect for yayo to the feds. And unless his other connection came through in the next few hours then they were going to be screwed on the deal he had set up.

 

The plan had been to go by and pick up six kilos of pure white from the main connect for his partner who slang in the South. However, while dean had been in holding he had seen the feds bring in his connect. The whole operation had been shut down.

 

Unless he could find six kilos in the next few hours they were going to be out a mad amount of money. And he had been counting on that money. This was going to be the deal that finally took the crew to the next level. And the deal that got his girl and himself out of this shit hole building.

 

“Any word from the Dominicans?” Dean asked Two Hands as he was passed the newly lit blunt. “If they don’t come through then we’re screwed.”

 

“Nah,” Two Hands replied. “And to be honest I don’t think we’re going to hear from them. After our friend was taken down by the feds word