God Don't Like Haters 3 by Jordan Belcher

Author:Jordan Belcher
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: urban fiction, kansas city, street lit, black author, donald goines, david weaver, felony books, paper plug, black celebrity
Publisher: Felony Books

Chapter 13

Milo Chavis

Los Angeles, California

I was standing in an alley blindfolded. This was something I never thought I would've done voluntarily but ... here I was, somewhere in Los Angeles, California, blind, nervous, and waiting for instructions. My righthand man Oyeah Mason was here with me—or so I thought. I hadn't heard him speak since Mark Beltrán, who was my OG Tahoe connection, picked us up from the airport and brought us here and tied a rag over our eyes for "security reasons."

This is bullshit, I thought.

"Oyeah, when's the last time you been blindfolded?" I asked just to make sure he was still here with me.

Oyeah chuckled. "Grade school. Field Day."

"Sssh," said Mark, hushing us. "Here they come."

I heard a screen door open and a man's voice, in Spanish, ask some kind of question to Mark, who answered back in the same dialect. Then, in English, Mark told us that he'd be waiting outside for us after our meeting was over.

This is bullshit.

I felt hands grab onto me and usher me inside a building that was unmistakably in the business of serving food. I could smell seasoning in the air, hear a gas burner igniting (we were in a kitchen), before I was eventually brought to a room where I was seated at a table and left there.

I was startled when I felt a hand touch my thigh under the table. I swatted it away immediately.

"Just making sure you're still there," Oyeah said. "Making sure they didn't separate us."

"Keep your fucking hands away from me, nigga," I said with humor in my voice, but overwhelmingly relieved that he was still near.

This meeting wasn't necessarily by choice. For the most part I was forced to come to California. Since Coras stopped buying OG Tahoe from me, things had went bad. Coras had been my biggest serve, roughly 75 percent of my gross profit, and when he refused to cop from me after the shooting incident at the Sprint Center, I could no longer afford to purchase my normal bundle. And there was no "buy less product" option, Mark informed me. It was either I afford the normal amount, or I got nothing at all. It wasn't Mark's rules. It was the familia's. And in order for me to be an exception to the rule, I had to meet with the head of the family in person and explain my situation. In simple terms, I needed time to build up my clientele to replace what I lost in Coras.

I was in the hot seat right now. And this was a foreign thing to me, because I was usually the one putting niggas in the hot seat for fucking up my money.

Then my phone vibrated in my pocket and startled me.

Mark had told me and Oyeah to turn our phones completely off before we came inside but I opted for mute mode. I knew it was my sister Monifa calling again with the same questions—Are you okay? Have you made up with Coras

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