God Don’t Like Haters 2
By
Jordan Belcher
Smashwords Edition
Felony Books, a division of Olive Group, LLC,
P.O. Box 1577, Belton, MO 64012
Copyright © 2015 by Jordan Belcher
Cover Model: Destiny Anderson
Hair Stylist: Stacy Powell
Makeup Artist: Jessica B.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Felony Books, P.O. Box 1577, Belton, MO 64012.
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God Don’t Like Haters 2
By
Jordan Belcher
Chapter 1
Kirbie Amor Capelton
Now wasn't the time to cry. I could barely see the road because of the rain, and constantly wiping tears from my eyes wasn't helping one bit.
I was driving my Mercedes-Benz in a downpour, driving way faster than I should have been according to the speedometer (me and my lead foot again). But that was the thing about German aerodynamics—I could go faster and faster and wouldn't even feel the difference. Testing the car, I pressed harder on the gas.
I was flying.
My windshield wipers were working double-time, and so were the tears coming down my cheeks. Why would Archie set me up? I really thought he loved me.
The first thing that came to my mind was the gambling. He must have gotten into some trouble that he didn't want to let me in on. He hired some people to rob us, maybe to buy some time to come up with the right amount of money. Hey, Mr. So-and-So, I got robbed, I could hear Archie explaining to whoever he owed. Give me some more time to come up with the cash. No, I really got robbed. I'm serious. They pulled guns on me and my girl Kirbie.
That was the only reason I could think of that would explain why I wasn't let in on the fake robbery. He didn't want me to know he was in trouble again. He didn't want me to do something stupid again. He knew I would kill whoever he owed. He knew that. He knew I was his ride-or-die and wouldn't hesitate to go after whoever he was in debt to.
But he lied to me. And he let another man put a boot on my face.
I started crying more, feeling like I was dumb for being so loyal to Archie. But his friends used to call him dumb for taking me in while I was so young. What kind of woman would I be if I turned my back on him when he needed my help?
I started to slow down, not feeling so in a rush to kill Archie now.
My phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Where the hell are you at, Kirbie?"
Coras Bane. He sounded pissed.
"I'm in traffic," I said. "Why? Am I supposed to be at the studio?"
"I just got a call from Evan saying my girl just pulled a gun on him. I ask him who and this muthafucka tells me you! Did you take that man's phone?"
Shit! I forgot I took Evan's cell from him in the club.
"Yeah, I got it," I said.
"Why would you do some dumb shit like that? I know Evan ain't the one that robbed you, is he?"
"No, but—"
"Give me that man's phone so I can give it back to him. You're lucky he didn't call the police."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"You know where the fuck I am."
He hung up, and I threw the phone in the passenger seat angrily. I hated that Coras didn't have the sensitivity or awareness to realize I had been crying. I was stressed the fuck out and didn't need his ass yelling at me.
But for some reason I needed to be in his presence right now. In the rain, I turned down 63rd Street and headed to Gee's studio. I'd deal with Archie afterwards.
***
As soon as I walked down the basement steps into Gee Beats's in-home studio, I saw Coras standing in the middle of the room in a tank top and his gold Cuban link chain around his neck. His tank was partially wet, as if he'd just come out of the rain too.
Gee Beats was sitting at his work station, eyes glazed over with inebriation. He nodded hello, I nodded back.
Coras had his hand out, waiting for me to hand him the phone. As I neared him, he had a hateful look in his eyes as if he was about to hit me. I placed the phone in his palm, expecting him to. Maybe if he put his hands on me I wouldn't be so damn drawn to him.
"That man called me nearly in tears," Coras started in on me. "That was some reckless shit you just did. Evan is a fan of ours. He supports Swope Records. He buys everything we put out. He even buys weed from me and pills from you. Now what would possess you to take this man's phone?! That's asinine!"
"You don't know what happened," I stated.
"Tell me then."
"He took a picture of me and wouldn't delete it."
"So what? He's a fan, Kirbie! That's what fans do! When you become a celebrity are you gonna be one of the ones who snatches cameras from paparazzi? You need to be embracing any and all attention. Or shit, at least wait until you become famous before you start doing that dumb shit. You're trying to lose the little bit of buzz you already got."
"I wouldn't have cared if he took the picture if I wasn't—"
He cut me off. "I know what you were doing in that club. I told you not to go in the first place. You need to decide if the streets are more important than the music."
This felt absurd coming from Coras. He was more street than me, sold way more drugs on average than me and Archie put together. And that was because he had a different, more exclusive product than us: OG Tahoe. I was finding it real hypocritical that he was telling me to choose one over the other. He needed to take his own advice first.
"The reason I was in the club was because of music," I said, asserting myself. "Those pills I was trying to get back pay the bills."
"I'll pay your bills," he said.
I blinked. I didn't have an immediate response to that. But his offer had me feeling warm with excitement and intimacy. Lately, almost everything he said to me would give me these pleasant, girlish chills.
Gee Beats broke the silence. "Ay, I got bills too, my nigga."
We ignored him.
I said to Coras, "I don't need you to pay my bills. That's not what I stand for. If you ever listened to any of my songs you would know that I'm independent and I can take care of myself on my own."
"The music and real life should be two mutually exclusive things," said Coras. "Is that what you're trying to do? Live out your lyrics? Music is a muse. Not a life manual."
I thought of the lyrics he wrote about me on the song Convenient For Me, where he spoke of nearly shooting Archie over me and having sex with me in the future. Was that just muse?
"The last thing I need is you catching another case," he went on. "That whole process will put our movement on hold again. You're not just sabotaging yourself when you move recklessly. You're sabotaging the whole team—me, Gee, and Ashleigh." Coras reached out and touched the bottom of my hoodie, lifting it enough to show my gun tucked in my jeans, which was an utter invasion of my personal space (but I didn't mind it). He pointed at the weapon, as if that was the problem. "You need to retire that thing right there. It's gonna get you in trouble."
"Retire yours," I countered.
"I know how to use mine. I know when to use mine. I'm not at clubs pulling it out on people who support me. Did you at least pull it out on the right person tonight?"
"Sort of."
"What's that mean?"
I saw Gee Beats turn in his chair to face us. He took a swig of Hennessey and set it off to the side, then looked at me intently. He actually rolled a little closer to us. He loved a good story.
"I followed the guy with the gold teeth into the men's bathroom," I said. "I pulled my gun out while he was peeing. But I didn't go through with it."
"Why?" Coras asked.
The feeling of being betrayed started winding up in me again. I was suddenly hearing Archie's voice through the robber's phone in that bathroom, and his voice was beginning to mix with old images of when he first took me off of the streets and taught me how to hustle. The hurt was unbearable. I felt like he cheated on me.
I started crying in my palms.
As I cried, my body began to feel too heavy to hold up. I felt like I was going to fall. But just in time, Coras stepped forward and took me into his arms. Then I felt Gee's arms wrap around me too. After a moment of my pity, I heard Coras whisper to Gee, "Give us a minute, fam." Then Gee was heading upstairs.
"What's wrong?" Coras asked me.
I was struggling to find words. "I ... I know who ... set me up. It wasn't a random ... robbery."
"Who set you up, Kirbie?" he asked. Then he said: "Was it Archie?"
My head jerked up. I was staring him right in the eyes, shocked.
Coras had a knowing grimace on his face. "It was Archie, wasn't it? That sounds about right."
"How did you know?"
"That nigga been hating on you since I met you, Kirbie. I’ve been telling you that for the longest. He wants to see you lose."
"It's not about him hating on me. He just needs help. He has a gambling problem and I get caught up in his schemes—"
"I bet that robbery didn't have anything to do with gambling. You need to look past your love for him. He set that robbery up to prevent you from having the money to put into this music. Every time you're late for the studio you tell me it's his fault. When is it gonna dawn on you that he's intentionally trying to crush your dreams?"
I feared Coras was right.
"He loves me, Coras. He brought me up from nothing. Why would he do that?"
"The same reason any man would if they had an incredibly talented, good loyal woman like you—it's to ensure that you never leave him. If you succeed in the music industry, he feels like he'll have to compete with the successful men you'll end up being around. He knows you'll leave him when you find out what's out there. He's insecure. I hate it had to come to this for you to stop fucking with that nigga."
"I don't know if I can leave him alone," I muttered.
"What?!"
"I've never been alone before."
I was hoping Coras could read between the lines. Steal me away from Archie! Please, Coras? This is your chance to steal me. I'm vulnerable.
He said, "I could've sworn you just told me you’re Ms. Independent. Now you're talking about you don't wanna be alone?"
I lowered my head and tried to wipe my tears on my hoodie.
His voice softened. "You'll never be alone, Kirbie. You got Swope Records. You got me, Gee, and Ashleigh."
I stared at him and sucked my teeth. "Did you really just say Ashleigh? That bitch hates me."
"No she doesn't. She's just tough on you. Some people need that tough love, and you're one of 'em. She tells me all the time how much she sees in you." He saw the doubt on my face. "I'm serious," he added, and I couldn't tell if he was hiding a smile or not. "She wants you to win just like she wants me to win."
Ashleigh, believing in me? C'mon now. Her being my manager was a joke.
Behind us, we heard someone coming down the steps. It was Gee Beats, making a reappearance. "Don't mind me," he said, as he came over and grabbed his Hennessey bottle. He turned and went back upstairs.
I pointed after him. "Did that fool just interrupt us for his damn liquor?"
Coras laughed, then sat down in Gee's swivel chair. The producer's chair. Coras's smile was weak, as though he still felt bad for me. "Kirbie, what do I have to do to convince you to leave that nigga Archie alone?"
I gulped. He was holding his crotch. And he had on sweatpants so there was an obvious bulge. Is that why he sat down?
"Tell me what I gotta do and I'll do it. I'll do anything. You want me to kill him for you?"
I gasped. "No!"
Was he serious?
"I didn't think you would," he said. "And that's sad to me. Did you listen to the lyrics from my verse on Convenient For Me?” I paused. And I must have took too long to answer because he said, "Don't play wit' me. You heard my shit. And I heard your shit too. You said you wanted to show me how much of a freak you can be."
"No, I didn't."
"You did too. Why are we playing games? Do you want me to play the CD right now for you?"
"It's just music," I said mockingly. "Music is a muse. It's not reality."
He chuckled. "Sit down, Kirbie." He patted his thighs. "Come fuck wit' a real nigga one time. Just one time. C'mere."
My face was pretty dry by now, but I still wiped away what tears were left with my palms. I sat down in his lap, more so on the edge of his knee. But he took my waist and pulled me into him. Now his dick was in my ass practically. I sighed, as if he was doing too much, but inside I was thinking, Oh my goodness, is this his dick poking me or a goddamn spare tire?!
"I flirt wit' you, you barely ever flirt back unless it's on a song," Coras was saying. "We can't keep playing with each other like this."
"You already have your hands full," I replied, referring to Monifa and Ashleigh. "And I'm loyal to Archie."
"Your loyalty should be expired, Kirbie. It's run its course."
"I owe him."
"I wish I was the one that found you when you were fourteen. Then I'd have that loyalty. Difference is, I would know what to do with it. You never cheated on him, have you?"
"No. Can I get up?"
"No. You may not."
His hand caressed my thigh, and I watched his fingers roam curiously. He was making his way between my legs and I didn't stop him because I had on jeans and there wasn't much he could do. But then he rubbed against the mound of my pussy not-so-gently and I felt a jolt of invasive bliss. Reflexively, I snapped my thighs closed, trapping his fingers.
"Unhand me, young lady," he said.
"No," I said.
He yanked his hand free and grabbed me by the neck, forcing me to turn my lips toward his. He stared at me for several heartbeats, then he kissed me. Instantly I felt fireworks exploding inside of me.
Our first kiss!
But it ended before I got a chance to enjoy it.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
We turned and saw his girlfriend Monifa Chavis standing at the base of the basement steps. I jumped off of Coras's lap. A second later Gee was stumbling down the steps with his bottle, as if he'd tried to prevent Monifa from coming down but got ran over.
"So this is what the fuck you been doing in the studio?!" she yelled at Coras. "I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!"
She frantically started going in her purse—and my instincts told me she had a gun.
"Monifa, chill!" Coras shouted, springing out of his seat.
I lifted my hoodie and grabbed my own pistol. This was about to get ugly …
Chapter 2
La'Renz "Buddy Rough" Taylor
"This is my home," said Sundi.
As she shut the door behind me, I walked carefully into the living room of her lavish townhome in quiet awe. Though I wouldn't let my expression show it, I was amazed by the modern splendor before me. Fine-cut white stone and masterful exposed brick was the theme. It was spacious and strikingly well-lit. And there was no sacrifice of taste and culture in the design principles. Afrocentric carvings were moored in the wood beams.
When Sundi told me she lived in Brooklyn, I was thinking Bed-Stuy or Brownsville—two of the poorest neighborhoods in the borough where crime and failing public schools correlated with low household incomes—not here on Willow Street in af
fluent Brooklyn Heights where she was a hop-skip-jump from Pierrepont Street and its authentic mansions.
I used to live on Pierrepont.
"Can I get your jacket?" she asked me.
I started taking it off, and she helped me. "Nice place," I said.
"It's a'ight," she threw back nonchalantly, then added a little laugh. "No, I love it. I really do. I'm blessed."
I helped her with her coat. As I stood behind her peeling it off, my fingers brushed her shoulders that were left bare by a plunging halter top. Her skin was butter soft and magnetic. I immediately thought back to our reunion kiss in the alley moments ago, and how we were shooed off like kids by a beat cop who had discovered us.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked me.
"Certainly."
"Red or white?"
I frowned. "So ... uh ... are you admitting that you forgot what I like?"
She rolled her eyes playfully. "It's been seven years, La’Renz."
"That's no excuse," I said back, flirting. It felt so good to flirt again. "But I'll forgive you this one time. Red, please."
I watched her pour the drinks at the kitchen counter, paying careful attention to her womanly figure. There was a time, pre-prison, when her body wasn't this advanced. During our affair days, I remembered gripping her small hips from behind and stuffing her tight pussy with all the dick I had, all that she could take. I'd play with her titties, which were half the size as they were now, while she sucked me off. It was fun then; and I could only imagine what life inside Sundi Ashworth was like now.
We sat in her living room in rustic armchairs made of cow hide, drinking and catching up. I had my legs crossed as I sipped and listened to her tell me about her part in helping Mount Eliyah ENT rise in the ranks. It pained me to hear this, but I listened respectfully. She said that Eliyah had no real key to success other than knowing how to hire the right people.
He got that talent from me, I thought.
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