fade to gray (frank ocean)

not just money.

       enough of the drugs, i thought to myself, rubbing my nose. it itched for more, more of the good shit, but i wouldn't allow myself that luxury today because i had to work later on.... in a few hours, i figured, since i stayed up until like, 4 this morning, and it's just now 1:47 PM. work, for me, started at 6 PM, and ended at like 6 AM. see, i took two shifts to pay for this apartment, my phone bill, my utilities, hair products, food and (what used to be) the occasional bag of coke. and being busy keeping my mind off of Him was good on my soul.

      i rose out of bed sighing as if i were a 60-something year old with boatload of ailments plaguing me and i was nostalgic for my younger, more lively body. i wasn't gone lie and say that i didn't miss being younger, happier and more carefree...i missed being anise henderson. jasmine cole is apathetic, depressed and stressed over things she lost control over. anise was smiling a lot ; jasmine rarely bothers.

       on the material side, anise was a materialistic girl who never worried about money and had work at the back of her mind. mommy and daddy catered to both her and janelle's every whim with black and platinum credit cards, spoiled them both rotten. all they had to do was bat an eyelash and they got it. but jasmine has nobody to depend on but herself; shit's real out here. she doesn't have the luxury of buying any hermes or nothing fancy...not like she cares about it at all. anise replaced clothes the way families replace shit like toilet tissue, jasmine won't buy shit unless what it replaces is damaged beyond repair. in short, one throws money away without a care in the world, the other has an iron grip on it.

       both of them are me, but neither of them are me. crazy shit, right? i mean, can you be two people at once and not have multiple personality disorder, and be totally concious of these clashing characters? 

      "clashing characters. you sound like a novel or some shit." i chuckled to myself after stretching, and i took in my disheveled appearance in the mirror. "bitch, you all kinds of crazy. junkie for coke and other drugs, a runaway, ya hair's all wild," i ruffled it for emphasis, "looking like a wild thornberry! get it togetherrrr."

       a shower in which i washed my hair helped with the chill that was settling in my bones. i didn't dare do some dumb shit like turn on the heat, since lord knew if it worked, and it would raise my bill. not like i really cared, but i don't wanna be homeless because frostbite isn't the way i wanna die, and being homeless leaves you more vulerable to addiction. nah, i'm good...i'm teetering over the edge as it is, and i don't need a fucking push.

       i looked at my body to see if there were any obvious differences between anise and jasmine while i dried off. "scars on arms healed, that's live...." they weren't as garish as they were a few months ago, so i didn't have the need to wear long sleeves to work anymore. ironically, they were puckered and ugly in the warmer months when i first came here, and the long sleeves in august earned me more stares than what i already dealt with. next, i combed through my tangled hair and twisted it, then put it up. it looked good no matter what i decided to do, leave it up or take it down. 

       i honestly didn't feel like going to work tonight, but when do i ever feel like doing anything? i barely even feel like breathing most days. i never really feel like eating, either, but i eat anyway so that nobody at work asks me questions. my boss learned awhile not to, and something in me knows that he knows. maybe that's why he's never fired me, even though i fuck up all the time. i think he knows that i can't help remembering every last detail that people at the diner want me to remember, since my brain is messed up. i don't know if it's because he's trying to save me that he's helping me, or exactly.

       "word is that his daughter crystal got hooked on something and she's over in the loop turning tricks," a fellow waitress named vera told me one time. vera was dominican (i think), skin the color of butterscotch and had blonde hair that was grounds of me calling her butterscotch.

       maybe he's using me to get over the guilt of not being able to save her. if that's the case, i don't need the charity, since i'm not a fucking case. i might be a junkie, but i don't depend on shit but myself. and andres's supplies, but that's besides the point. i don't need my boss or his charity money, since i can always get money somewhere else. money isn't that important. (damn, a big difference between the old me and the new me....)

"gabby," i spoke over the nail dryers.

"yes, babe?" she called everybody babe, so it was nothing special in that.

"isn't it sad how much money matters to us?"

"um...no...?" 

       i may have forgotten to mention that gabby was shallower than a kiddie pool, or the ocean at low tide. "it is! but thing is, it's not just money. it's happiness...mine and yours. everybody's! it's the difference between happy, being happy and sad. it's the difference between having a home and living on the streets. that's what it is. it's not just money. it's sooooo much more than that, gabby."

       "oh." she looked like she was thinking deeply on what i said, and that satisfied me. her brownish blondish eyebrows knitted together and she frowned, like she was thinking up a storm. "do you think our nails are dry yet, boo? i have something to do right after i drop you off at home, and i will not be happy if my nails are less than perfection."

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       stacks of it on my desk. uno, dos, tres... just from skimming them, i saw about twenty bands of twenties. basically, even though i'd barely sold anything, i was set for the month after i paid my suppliers. i smirked to myself and took in the smell of the new bills, some smell i would never get tired of and some smell i'd never stop experiencing. i had money coming in all the time, and an abundance of the shit at that.

still, i wanted more. 

       nothing seemed like enough anymore, since i was just laying low and not being too flashy or too bold until mi primo emilio out in california gave me the word to make any moves. the dope game was nothing to fuck with, and neither were hearts. i learned that the hard way. 

      it was only 8 PM, so it wasn't time for me to go sell or nothing, and i had nothing to do. i just counted up all my money, made it rain, put it back in bands, then tossed one stack up and down in my chair.  shit, i was bored, and i ain't like being bored, because when i got bored, i thought deeper than normal. and staring at this one stack in my hand while playing made me think about money.

       shit, i know ion really need all of it. i just want it. mi madre didn't have a lot to spare because there were 13 of us in the house (not all hers. mis primos y mis abuelos stayed with us.) i already had all her bills paid off, bought her a new car back in california and left her enough to do whatever she wanted to, like get something new. that's part of the reason i'd got in the game. but then after that, someone came in my life, fucked me up, and left me in a bad place. left me where i did' give a fuck about anybody but me and emilio, since that's my cousin and my ride or die since preschool. and then that someone left a hole in me, and i been using money to fill it. 

       so i guess i love it so much because it ain't just money, it's a crutch or some shit like that, homes. i put all my care into that money and into nothing else, but nobody on these streets in st. louis knows why. they ask me, "andres, why you so heartless?" now, ya sabes. just don't tell nobody, cause they'll see me as weak or something, and i'll blow a nigga's brains out before he finishes calling me weak. andres is not to weak, and andres is not to be fucked with.

a.n. - sup, my honeybunnies? (too soft?) my niggas? (that's more like it) andres is off to the side / the top, if you're on mobile.

this chapter was a filler, no doubt about that, so i won't have a lot of questions.

1) why is anise so stubborn?

2) why do you think her boss won't fire her? you think it's because of his daughter crystal, and he's living out his guilt, or is he just a nice guy?

3) why is andres hearless? who do you think broke his heart?

4) does andres really need to stay in the game or nah?

5) do you think his point of view being in here is pointless, or nah? (be honest, i don't mind.)