God Don't Like Haters (9 page)

"He needs a bottle."

"I need a Ferrari."

"Have a heart, Jason."

I said his name like I knew him. But all I
really knew about him was what he posted on The Site, which was the
avenue I used to contact him. Jason Carell had a hellavuh following
and an impressive track record in promotion. And I was sure he knew
that I managed two of the hottest artists in Kansas City.

His eyes were checking me out. He stuffed
his hands in his slacks pockets, shifting his weight to one foot as
if trying to look behind me at my ass. He was wearing a suit. And I
was wearing a suit for girls—a classy white jacket with a
bootytight skirt.

"My daddy was a wino," Jason said. "He drank
day and night."

"So you understand the struggle then?"

"Yes. He killed himself by jumping off a
bridge. He was holding my mother when he jumped."

I gasped.

"Your producer can have his bottle," he said.
"But it's at your own risk. If your people under-perform, they
won't be welcomed back. The whole city will be watching."

"Thank you, Jason." I gave him prayer hands
and a little bow. He shook my hand and walked off.

I stood there in the aisle with my purse
strap on my shoulder, looking around at this enormous indoor arena.
There were more than 19,000 seats. The Sprint Center's first
concert was by the English singer and songwriter Elton John, and
now this stage would be blessed by the up-and-coming rapper Coras
Bane.

I hated that I had to ask Jason to allow Gee
Beats to carry his liquor bottles into this prestigious venue. It
was a waste of a favor. We were nobodies, basically, making
ridiculous requests that should have only been reserved for
celebrities. I had talked to Coras more than once about starting a
new team. Gee Beats had a horrible addiction and Kirbie Amor
couldn't be counted on. But Coras, as bullheaded as he was, swore
we had the best of the best.

Blind, 
I thought.

But who was I to call Coras
blind? Here I was, a college-educated woman of God, competing for a
drug dealer's love against a jobless female who expected hand-outs
(Monifa) and an even younger girl who was not only a negligent
singer but a pill-selling hoodrat (Kirbie).
 Where did my standards go?

Andre "Coras Bane" McDougald was just
supposed to be a one-night stand. I hated that I welcomed him into
my life and agreed to help his career. Now I couldn't pull away. I
was invested. At first I tried to tell myself that he was just a
good dick, a fun disposable thug that tickled my happy place every
so often, but then his sex became an integral part of my health and
well-being. He became more than meat. I had fallen in love.

My phone started ringing.

I sat down in a fifth-row seat as I went in
my purse for my cell. My shoes were killing me! These steampunk
stilettos were no joke. I crossed my legs.

"Hello?" I answered.

"May I speak to Ashleigh Hedgman,
please?"

I didn't recognize the voice.

"This is she. Who's calling?"

"Hi, my name is La'Renz
Taylor. I'm the CEO of Taylor Music Group. I just came across a CD
titled 
Swope Park Gritter Vol.
2 
that I found very interesting. On
the back I saw your contact info."

Oh my God! This was La'Renz "Buddy Rough"
Taylor! I had followed his outstanding career and accomplishments
long before I even had an interest in being in the music business.
La'Renz had been a multi-millionaire before he went to prison.
Taylor Music Group was a brand name. I had just recently read a
blog that he'd been released.

And now he was calling me!

This could be Coras's big break!

I gathered myself. "Yes, I'm Coras's
manager."

"Do you also manage Kirbie Amor?"

"Kirbie?" I echoed.

"Yeah, the girl singing on the mixtape. Do
you manage her?"

"Uh, yes."

"I'd like to set up a meeting with her—and
you, of course. I'll fly the both of you out to New York and we can
talk about how we're going to make Kirbie the biggest superstar the
world has ever fucking seen. We're gonna force-feed these
muthafuckas Kirbie Amor soup every waking day of their lives. How's
that sound?"

I was flabbergasted. "Um ... Did you listen
to Coras Bane's rapping skills?"

"Yes. He has talent. I like his style."

"Would you be willing to work with him
instead?" I asked.

There was a pause on the line.

"I'm not interested in a
rapper. The industry has enough. I'm specifically calling about
Kirbie Amor right now. She captivated me with her voice. Then I
listened to her the second time through and actually heard her
lyrics. She's singing about selling drugs! That floored me. I need
to sign her. 
Now
."

I looked up at the stage, watching the
workers set up for tonight's show. I didn't know who was performing
tonight. Coras and the gang were to perform next week.

"Hello?" La'Renz said.

I started thinking about what would happen
if I connected Kirbie with La'Renz. The former mogul surely had the
resources—or at least used to have the resources—to make Kirbie
Amor a household name. She could be a millionaire in a matter of
months. With the sudden success, I knew that bitch would be quick
to forget about all of the things I'd done for her. She'd rub her
fame in my face. She'd take Coras from me.

"Hello?"

"I'm here," I said.

"In what names do I need to make the plane
tickets?"

"I'm sorry, La'Renz. Kirbie isn't for sale.
You wouldn't want that lazy girl anyway. Bye."

"Hold on. We can work something—"

I hung up and put my phone back in my
purse.

CHAPTER 15

Kirbie Amor Capelton

"I can drive back if you want me to," I offered to
Archie. "I know you're leg still hurts."

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head in an over
exaggerated way. "Absolutely not. Last time I let you drive we got
pulled over."

"I've learned my lesson since then. No
speeding."

"I got this."

"You sure?"

"You don't wanna drive anyway. You're too
busy on your phone."

He was right. I was doing just fine sitting
here in the passenger seat surfing The Site. The only reason I
drove last time was because I knew that Archie wouldn't have driven
fast enough to get me to the studio on time.

But I didn't want him to know he was right
about my internet sweet tooth so I stuffed my phone in my pocket
and decided to give him a couple minutes of talk time ... even
though I still had some statuses to read.

"Thank you, Archie," I said to him.

He looked over at me, then back at the
highway. "For what? For driving?"

"No, for making this trip sooner than we
normally do and for agreeing to buy more pills this time. I'm
really-really gonna need the extra money for Coras's mixtape tour
and for big-name features on my own mixtape. I know you think I'm
wasting my money, but thanks for giving me the chance to try."

He shrugged. "I waste my money gambling, so
who am I to say no?"

"You really love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I’m been thinking about
this whole thing. I realized that you're just chasing your dream.
My dream is to be the biggest hustler ever, and I've seen some
major progress in the last four years. You've helped me get to
where I am now. So I need to return the favor. I guess I just
wanted yo dream to be my dream but that's just not what it is. You
have yo own aspirations and I gotta respect that. I'm here to help
now. Whatever you need to make yo dream happen, I got you. I just
don't wanna lose you."

I took my seatbelt off and reached over and
gave him a hug. It was awkward because he still had one hand on the
steering wheel, but I still squeezed him tight as ever. I tried to
give him a kiss too but he pushed me away.

"You better stay in yo seat," he warned.
"They'll pull us over for anything."

I strapped my seatbelt back on, then dug my
cell back out of my pocket.

"Couldn't wait to get back on The Site, could
you?" he remarked.

I barely heard him. I was too focused on a
status update that was at the very top of my timeline. Ashleigh
Hegdman had just posted a snippet of her little evil thoughts.

Ashleigh
Hedgman:
 Some people don't deserve
success.

I stared at each word. I wondered if the
"some people" was really meant for me. I knew Ashleigh hated me. I
knew she only tolerated me out of respect for Coras, and this stat
summed up the vibe I repeatedly got from her. There was a chance
her stat wasn't about me, though. She had plenty of people
contacting her, wanting her to manage them, and her post could have
something to do with that. But this wasn't the first time I thought
she was talking about me on The Site. I brought it up to Coras once
and he just said I was being insecure.

I started reading Ashleigh's comments:

Rita RealSpit Gibson:
True, some people don’t
deserve success, but who are we to judge?

Alexa Leonard:
I can name plenty of people I
see on TV that don’t deserve what they have! That shit pisses me
off!

NorthEastRapGod:
Ashleigh I posted my newest
song off of my mixtape to yo page yesterday Did you see it? Let me
know what you think and if you’ll be my manager

Rebecca Flynn:
I’m in agreeance with you
Ashleigh. I have an uncle that’s rich and he only gives me money on
holidays. If I had money I’d give it to everybody.

Michaela McDonnell:
And I hope that the ones
that don’t deserve it never get it. Especially my brother’s
wife.

I wanted to comment too, but what I had to
say wasn't appropriate so I did the next best thing—I Liked her
status. So if it was in fact directed toward me, she now knew I was
fully aware of—

"Get out the fucking car!"

My door was thrust open and I was yanked out
of our Toyota rental car. I caught a glimpse of Archie being
snatched out on the other side, before I was slammed to the
concrete by a brown-skinned man with gold teeth.

We were being robbed!

"Archie!" I yelled.

"Just do what they say!" he yelled back.

The gold-teethed man put his boot on my
head, flattening my cheek into the concrete. My face was being
painfully pricked by the loose little rocks on the ground. My eyes
were jumping around searching for an escape and I saw that we were
on the lot of one of our storage units. There were orange garage
doors up and down this aisle. I hadn't even realized we had gotten
here already.

And that posed a
question—
how the fuck did these niggas
know to hit us here?!

Me and Archie were always discreet and aware
when coming to or leaving one of our storage units. Yeah, I was
just looking down at my phone for an hour not paying attention but
Archie should have been! We had another unit on the northside of
town. We used these units to store pills. They acted as stash
houses for us—easier and safer access than riding around the whole
city with drugs in the car. If we had sales on the northside, we
used our northside unit to pick up pills. If we had sales on the
southside, we used this unit.

"Hurry up!" my attacker yelled at his
friends.

I heard the Toyota's trunk pop and someone
rummaged through our bullshit. We had luggage with clothes and
California souvenirs in there just in case we got pulled over on
the way back and had to explain that our trip was just pleasure.
One of the robbers threw the luggage out, and then I heard the
prying sound of someone tampering with the spare tire with a
crowbar.

They're gonna find the
pills!
 I panicked.

"Do you know who the fuck we are?!" I
shouted. "We will hunt you down and kill you!"

"Kirbie, shut the fuck up," my attacker said,
pressing harder with his boot.

The robber knows my name!

"Why are yall doing this?" I said.

"It's business, not personal, baby girl. I
like yo music."

"Who are you?"

"Kirbie, just shut up!" I heard Archie
shout.

Then I heard the crinkling of cellophane.
"Got it!" someone exclaimed.

They found our packaged pills. I tried to
push off of the ground, and I immediately wished I wouldn't have—my
attacker stomped on my head, made me scream. 

"Kirbie!" Archie yelled.

"She's okay," said gold teeth. He bent down
far enough to put his gun to my head. I could smell the alcohol on
his breath. "If you want to live to sing again, you'll stay on the
ground a full ten minutes after we leave. Okay?"

"Let's go!" another one yelled.

My head was released suddenly, and I heard
the whole jack team running away. They were laughing as they fled.
I got up in a flash and saw them jumping inside of a black BMW.
Under my passenger seat in the Toyota rental I had my .380 handgun.
I was inside grabbing it when I looked across the car and saw
Archie still facedown on the ground with his arms out obediently.
It was a sad thing to see.

I spun around with the gun, hoping to get a
good shot at the BMW. It was too far away. But I still fired five
shots.

Now Archie was on his feet. "Kirbie, what the
fuck are you doing?!"

I looked at him like he was crazy. "They
stole our pills!"

"We'll get more," he said. 

"When?"

"When we sell what we already have in the
northside unit. Just get in the car."

"Archie, I needed that new batch of pills. I
have things I need to do with my music!"