Free God Don't Like Haters 2 by Jordan Belcher

something's on your mind
because you're not on your phone."
    I sucked my teeth. "Real funny, Archie." But
he was right.
    "Are you worried about whether or not we can
get rid of all this cocaine?"
    "No. I know we can. We never have any
problems hustling together. True hustlers can hustle any product
and I'm motivated."
    He smiled. "I raised you well."
    "The only thing I'm concerned about is how
long is our run gonna last. The coke game is wide-open now because
the Feds just swept the city in another mass drug conspiracy ...
but will we be round up in the next sweep? Seems like every three
or four years in Kansas City there's a new team that gets taken
down. I don't wanna get caught up in the next indictment handed
down by the federal grand jury."
    "The law only catches wind when you involve
too many players," Archie rationalized. "It's just gonna be me and
you at the top. Same program as the pills, and look how many years
we went without getting caught. If you want, in four more years we
can switch up the hustle again."
    "I don't care what we sell. I just wanna win,
Archie."
    "And we will. We  are!  See,
those public indictments don't talk about who got away, who beat
the system. There are people in the city that have hustled cocaine
through many indictments. And I'm not talking about snitches. I
know a few real ones still doing well. I know what I'm doing,
Kirbie. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
    I thought about the fake robbery and how he
allowed a man I never met in my life to put his boot on my
face.
    "Have I?" he asked again.
    "No," I said.
    We were driving in peace for a while when I
finally decided to pull my phone out. Archie tossed out a slick
comment about me being a social media junkie and made a playful
grab to take my phone, but actually I wasn't logging into The Site
right now. I was doing an internet search to find out what Julian
Beltrán had said to me.  Farewell, novia ... En otra
vida . I learned that  novia  meant "fiancé"
and  en otra vida  meant "in another life." I was
confused. Did Julian tell me he'd marry me under different
circumstances? Or was the kiss a customary sign of respect and he
was simply congratulating my engagement to Archie?
    "Did Julian kiss you?" I asked.
    Archie's face was weirded out. "What did you
just say?"
    "Did Julian kiss you? You know, like a sign
of respect that mafia people do."
    "Fuck no he didn't. I would've flipped the
table over and went Denzel on them niggas. Did he
kiss  you?"
    "Yes."
    "On the lips?"
    I should have kept my mouth shut. Archie was
really starting to grow upset.
    "No," I lied. "Just on the cheek."
    "Oh okay. If he had, I would've whipped this
bitch around so hard and shot back to that restaurant so fast
..."
    I giggled. "Assuming we know where the
restaurant is and they're there, what would you have done?"
    "Broke a couple arms. Maybe a leg or
two."
    "You would've took on all those Beltrán
cartel members by yourself? Really, Archie?"
    "For my fiancé and future wife, I'll take on
the world. Seven billion people, three at
time,  Crouching Tiger  style. Line 'em
up!"
    "That's sweet. Thank you, Archie."
    "I love you."
    "I love you too."
    I said the words, and I meant them, so why
was I logging into The Site a few seconds later to check on Coras's
profile? Something was wrong with me. I was starting to think that
I wasn't as loyal as I thought I was.
    As my thumb went up to the app's searchbox to
type in "Coras," I noticed a trending topic in my newsfeed. The
hashtag of choice was currently #SprintCenter. I tapped the link
quickly and started reading the comments.
     
    Wendy 'youlovetotaste' Hartley: A shooting at
the Sprint Center??? C’mon, this can’t be real smh
    Thorton Jones:  Niggas can't do shit
right. That's why famous people never wanna perform in Kansas City
#SprintCenter #Hoodlums
    Problem Child:  I heard Yayo Love is
dead! Good riddens. He was washed up and overrated anyway.
#SprintCenter 
    Makea WorkingWoman Price:  Yayo love