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about: when he and Tai had come to Los Angeles and found out more about their eighteen-year-old daughter than they ever wanted to know. It was the moment that they were forced to realize that Princess was no longer their little girl but a grown-ass woman with a mind of her own. “But I’ll be there to help you get through it, dog. Complete with Kleenex and everything.”
    “I wish I could tell you to store your hankie, dude. But a brothah might break down for real.”
    “Naw, you can’t do that. You’re not only the father giving away the bride, but the officiating minister. Responsibility trumps emotion. You’ll hold it together.”
    “I’d better, otherwise I’ll have to answer to Rafael. I must admit I’ve never seen a man want to get married more than my soon-to-be son-in-law.”
    “From what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me, he’s a solid young man. Congrats again, King.”
    The two fist bumped. “Thanks, Derrick. It’s good to have you here.”

7
    Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
    “P rincess!” Joni swatted her friend’s bootie-clad foot off the ottoman. “It’s your big day tomorrow. Go to your room and go to bed!”
    It was near midnight on the night before the biggest day of Princess’s life. It had been a full Friday. Last minute fittings, mani/pedi/massage marathons, the fairly flawless rehearsal dinner, and now this: the final day of singlehood before Princess became a married woman. Instead of a bachelorette party, nine of Princess’s friends had joined her in Hawaii last month where in her words they’d “done everything I can’t do once I get pregnant.” On this topic both she and Rafael were in agreement: they wanted to be young parents. So the women had snorkeled and parasailed, flown over volcanoes in helicopters and flown over the beautiful Hawaiian expanse attached to parachutes. Everyone had agreed that skydiving had been one of the most beautiful freedoms they’d ever experienced, and an absolutely perfect way to see the world. Well, since Princess’s best friend, Joni, had kept her eyes tightly shut until feeling terra firma, she couldn’t quite cosign on this last claim.
    Princess grabbed a pillow and crushed it to her chest. “I know that I should leave y’all, but I’m too wired to sleep! This moment is so surreal. I can’t believe it. I’m getting married!”
    “It’s no big deal,” Joni said, in an attempt to calm her frazzled friend. “All it means is that you get to start washing dirty drawers and, in your case, cooking very bad meals.”
    “Forget you, heifah!”
    “As your maid of honor, I’m just doing my job. Urging you to get your beauty rest and wiping that rose color off your glasses.”
    The women laughed.
    “Princess,” Sarah said, her light, melodic voice wafting across the room from the king-size bed on which she sat Indian style. “Don’t mind, Joni. In a few short years you’ll become the next Oprah and, like her, you’ll be able to hire all of the help you need to do the dirty work.”
    “Hey, speaking of Oprah types, are you sure you want to share your nuptials with the world?” This question came from Brittany Williams, the bridesmaid who’d known Princess since they were both four years old. Brittany’s family had moved from Kansas City to Chicago when Brittany was thirteen, but the two women had kept in touch.
    “Yes,” Princess said. “But it’s only because of how much I trust Carla. I know that she will do a story that uplifts and inspires. Plus, it will be a ratings bonanza and I’d be lying to not admit how much I feel I owe her. She and Lavon are why I’m so successful, plus they’re friends of the family. They’ll be arriving tomorrow, and staying at the same hotel as Uncle Derrick and Aunt Viv.”
    Carla Chapman was the host of the hugely successful talk show, Conversations with Carla . For the past several months, Princess had served as a once-a-month cohost and off-site correspondent for stories involving the