Complex by Caspar Ambrose (english novels for beginners .TXT) 📕

“Shit,” Dean said to himself. “Somebody in this town has that yay and we’re going to find it.”

“I put the word out on the streets,” Starks said. He had finally put down the game controller and was smoking on the first blunt which had made a full rotation. “I should be hearing back in the next few minutes from somebody.”

As if on cue his cell phone rang. Starks picked it up from the table and answered it.

“What up?” he said.

“Ya of course.”

“For sure, thanks for the word,” The conversation was short. And as soon as he hung up he had a smile on his face.

“That was my brother down at the 5th precinct,” he said addressing everyone in the room. “He said that one of his informants just tipped him off about ten kilos coming in today for the Russians. The drop is going down at a warehouse by the old shipping pier. The deal they set up was for just one person from the Russian side of things to meet with one person from the Colombian side to make the drop. So there won’t much security. The drop is going down in two hours. He said to give him a cut and he’ll make sure the info doesn’t get to anyone else in the precinct.”

“Ten kilos and whatever money the Russians are paying for it,” Two Hands said. “That’s some straight dope right there. What do you say, Dean?”

Dean sat there for a minute, reflecting on the information. He wasn’t worried about robbing the Russians. They would be in and out before anybody knew what happened. There would probably be a crew waiting nearby on the Russian side of things to pick their man up. But if they were quick then they would be gone before anything could be done. And Two Hands was right, they wouldn’t just be getting the ten kilos, but also the money. Which would be substantial.

“Like you said we ain’t making money just sitting here,” he said to Two Hands. “Let’s do it.”

“Aw shit here we go,” CJ said.

“We’re really going to rob the Russians and the Colombians,” Nate protested. “That shit’s ludicrous.”

“What other option do we have?” Two Hands shot back. “If we don’t then our client from the South is going to take his business elsewhere. We’re back to square one then.”

“I know,” Nate responded. “But this shit just doesn’t sit right.”

“Mother fucker we criminals,” Starks said, passing Nate a blunt. “This is what we do. Just get faded and relax. In a few hours, we’ll be sitting fat and tidy on that good money.”

Nate sat back and hit the blunt. He was thinking about all the options and all the rewards. But after a few moments, he gave in.

“All right,” he responded. “Let’s get that money.”

Two hands looked at Dean with a devilish smile. The same devilish smile he gave anytime he was about to do something sinister.

“You heard the man,” Two Hands said. “Let’s get this money.”

Dean got up from the chair. He wasn’t worried about what they were about to do. It wasn’t the first heist they had performed. Hopefully after this deal, though, it would be the last. But either way, they were going to need some extra fire power.

“Check your weapons,” he told everyone in his crew. “I gotta get something.”

Dean walked to the bedroom and opened the door. His girl was laying on the bed asleep. She woke up after he closed the door.

“What are you doing babe?” she said. “Are those dumb mother fuckers still out there smoking.”

“Those dumb mother fuckers help put food on the table,” Dean snapped. “Show some respect.”

He walked over to the closet and opened it. What he wanted lay just on the inside leaning against the wall. An AK-47.

“What the fuck is going on Dean,” his girl said. She knew that nothing good was going to come out of him pulling that gun out. It meant something big was going on. And something big also meant something dangerous. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just some work babe,” Dean hated being questioned. And he wanted to avoid a confrontation. He didn’t want his head screwed up before going on a job like this.

“How long are you going to do this shit Dean?” she snapped at him.

Dean ignored her, pulling out an ammo case and bag that he kept next to the AK. He put the gun and six fully loaded banana clips into the bag and then grabbed three extra magazines for his Glock 9 for good measure.

“Don’t just ignore me,” she got up from the bed as she said this.

“I’m going to do this till I get paid,” a confrontation was unavoidable. “I’m going to do this till we’re out of this shit hole. Till we’re out of this life.”

“We’re never going to get out of this life if you’re dead Dean,” she said coming closer to him.

“What the fuck else do you expect me to do Shay?” he said. “What else is there for someone like me?”

“Not this Dean,” tears started coming to her face. “Anything but this shit. Every day that you go out I’m afraid you’re never coming back.”

Dean set down the bag that he had finished packing and put his hands on her arms. He didn’t want this shit before a job like this. But he loved her. More than his crew, and more than the money, he loved this woman. She had been with him since they were in high school. She had watched over him when nobody else had been there.

“Baby I got big plans in the works,” he said soothingly. “After today we’re going to be moving out of this place. And we’re never going to look back. I promise.”

She grabbed on to him and put her arms around him and tried to hold on tight. Her head rested against his chest.

“Don’t go, Dean,” she pleaded.

He pushed her away softly and picked up the duffel with his guns and ammunition and the masks that he had also put in.

“I’ve got to do this,” he said and then walked out the door. Not looking back.

His crew was ready. They were waiting by the door whenever he stepped into the living room.

“Let’s do this shit,” he said and then handed the duffel to Starks.

“Oh yeah, got the big guns,” Starks said with excitement as he took the bag from Dean.

They exited the room and Dean locked the door behind him. His mind full of thoughts of his girl and getting to a better place. As he looked around the graffiti filled halls of the piece of shit building he lived in, he felt ashamed. Ashamed that he lived here. Ashamed that he wasn’t like his brother and didn’t make it through school and into college. Ashamed at the way he made his money. But most of all, ashamed that he put so much stress on his girl when she was so good to him. And all these thoughts of shame pissed him off. So that when they were walking in the hall, and another tenant was standing smoking a cigarette, he looked at her and made like he was going to lunge at her.

“Fuck you looking at bitch,” he said trying to vent his frustrations.

Rebecca heard the laughs of the men but did not see their faces. She had cowered into the side of the wall when she saw the largest of the men make like he was going to lunge for her. She had seen them coming and going from the apartment across from hers before but had never talked or even greeted any of them.

“Chill man,” one of the men said to the one who was harassing her. “Your girl's got you all worked up in the head.”

They kept walking and Rebecca stood there. The cigarette she had been smoking on continued to burn, but she had forgotten about it. Instead, all she could think about was the horrid place she found herself in. All she could think about was the situation that awaited when she went back into the apartment. And as the sounds of the men talking and laughing disappeared behind the elevator doors, and the cigarette in her hand burnt out, she took a deep breath and opened the door behind her.

Inside was her girlfriend Jenna crying on the couch. A piece of paper lay on the table in front of her. It was this piece of paper that caused the current stress that both of them found themselves suffering from. A letter that had arrived in the mail yesterday that informed Jenna that she was HIV positive.

“How could you,” Rebecca spat out. She was pissed and confused and saddened and frightened and a million other emotions all at once. And this pissed her off even more. “You promised me you were off of that junk. And now I found out that not only were you still using but you were also sharing needles. What the fuck Jenna?”

This only made Jenna cry harder. She was curled up into a ball crying into her knees. Rebecca knew that she should be there to comfort her, but she didn’t know how. And she also knew that now she had to worry about this disease. And that scared her more than anything. Who knows how long it had been since Jenna had contracted the virus.

“I’m sorry,” was all Jenna managed to say in between sobbing. “I’m sorry I lied.”

“How long?” Rebecca questioned.

Jenna sat there and cried. Nothing coming out but tears for about three minutes. And for those three minutes, Rebecca didn’t say anything else. Only sat down in a dining room chair that she had placed to face Jenna on the couch. Finally, Jenna managed to get her crying under control.

“About three months,” she said, using her hands to clear away the tears which littered her face. “I’m sorry.”

“You promised me, Jenna,” Rebecca said again. “You promised you were done. And this entire time that I had been in school and you were supposedly at work you’ve been getting fucked up instead. And what’s worse now you’ve got HIV. For god sake.”

Jenna started crying again. But this time not as violently. It seemed that she had just about shed all the tears she was able to.

“I’m going to bed,” Rebecca said. “We can discuss this later. You should rest also.”

With that being said, Rebecca got up from her seat and walked into the bedroom. She crawled into bed immediately, not even bothering to change out of her clothes, and lit a cigarette. She didn’t like to smoke in the room. But right now the only thing she had to calm her nerves and keep her from lashing out at the world was the soothing feeling from the nicotine she was inhaling. And after finishing the cigarette and stubbing it out in a cup of water on the nightstand next to the bed, she passed out. Emotionally spent and physically drained from the current events.

She awoke naturally about seven hours later. Light was peering in through the window of the room. After picking up the phone and checking the time, she walked into the living room. It was four three thirty in the afternoon. Jenna was asleep on the couch, still curled up in the same ball she had probably cried herself to sleep in. Rebecca grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the counter and walked quietly out the door. She went only two apartments over and knocked.

An older woman who looked to be in her seventies answered the door with a smile. The smile quickly changed when she saw the expression on Rebecca’s face.

“Becca honey what’s got you down?” the woman asked.

“I’m sorry to disturb you