Read God Don't Like Haters Online
Authors: Jordan Belcher
Tags: #urban fiction, #street lit, #david weaver, #felony books, #jordan belcher
He flushed the toilet.
When he came out of the stall his head was
down as he was buckling his jeans. I was sure he saw me standing
here in a purple hoodie but he was so drunk that he assumed I was
just another male sharing the bathroom. He had on the same boots he
used to press my face into the ground.
He bumped into the sink in a way that looked
accidental, then he started washing his hands. I was just standing
here watching him; I was completely out of place.
Leave, Kirbie,
leave,
I told
myself.
Don't do this.
Leave!
The robber's phone rang. He fished it out of
his pocket and tried to swipe his screen but realized his hands
were wet so he wiped a hand on his denims—frontside, backside, then
sort of scanned his palm and fingertips against his thigh in a deep
drying motion—and answered the call.
"Hello?"
I heard the voice on the other end loud and
clear because there was an echo in here: "Bro, I need you to get
those pills back to me. Can you bring 'em through tonight? She's
gone."
I heard the
word
pills!
Discreetly, I went and washed my hands next to him. I kept my
head down so he couldn't see my reflection in the mirror, and I
kept the water low so I could continue to hear good.
"I don't know if I can make it tonight," gold
teeth said into his phone. "I'm northbound and you're all the way
out south."
"Bro, I need those pills back. I'll meet you
halfway."
My heart stopped. I recognized the caller's
voice. It was my boyfriend Archie Waters!
"Where are you?" I heard Archie ask.
"Why you wanna know?" said gold teeth. He was
actually looking at his teeth in the mirror, licking them. "I'm
where I'm at."
"Why do you sound like that? Are you drunk?
Did you pop some Purple Gorillas?"
"I popped two."
"I told you not to open 'em!"
"Why'd you have me and my niggas steal 'em if
we can't have a couple?"
"I swear whatever's missing I'm getting
reimbursed for. I knew I shouldn't have paid yall until after the
robbery."
"Don’t be like that, Archie."
"Give me my pills back!"
The robber laughed. "Yes, sir. Tonight. Text
me where you want us to meet you."
"I hope yall ain't out partying. I think my
girl is out looking for yall. Yall better be laying low."
"We ain't scared of no bitch."
"Call her a bitch again and I'll cut your
throat."
The robber laughed again, then hung up and
stuffed his phone back in his pocket. His hand lingered in there
for a couple seconds longer—his fingers were searching—and when he
pulled his hand back out he had a purple pill in his palm. He
popped it in his mouth and swallowed.
"Hustling just to make a
way/ each and every day I pray, that I make it out
this
gaaaame!"
he sang on his way out of the bathroom.
My heart was still racing after he left.
Before I could even get my thoughts together my phone made a
buzzing sound. I checked it and saw that I had a new text
message—from a number I had saved as "BAE." That was Archie.
BAE:
I won't be here when you get back.
I gotta go meet up with somebody. I hope you're not still out
looking for those niggas. What happened should have been a wake-up
call. You're always talking about signs from above. I think what
happened is a sign that you should stop trying to rush that
music. Put it on hold for a minute and let's work on us. Love you.
I hope you're there when I get back home.
Oh, I will
be,
I
thought.
Damn right I will be.
I cocked my .380, which slid a hot bullet in the
chamber, then I tucked it back in my pants and covered it up with
my hoodie. I left the club in a hurry.
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