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Jasper, purchased an eighty-seven-hundred square foot mini-mansion on three acres of sprawling property. It’s where the entire wedding celebration will be. I pull the white and red embossed invitation from out of my top desk drawer, then stare at it:
    I N THE CELEBRATION OF LOVE...
M RS. H ARRIET A LLEN
R EQUESTS THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE AT THE MARRIAGE OF
HER GRANDDAUGHTER
Pasha Alona Allen
TO
Jasper Edwin Tyler
O N S ATURDAY, THE T WENTY -S EVENTH OF A UGUST
T WO THOUSAND AND ELEVEN
A T FIVE O ’ CLOCK IN THE EVENING
    She sighs. “...It seems like everyone else’s daughters are getting married, except for my own.” She sounds disappointed. I toss the invitation back into my drawer, rolling my eyes up in my head, again.
    “ She’s marrying a damn convict and drug-dealer, for crying out loud! ” I snap in my head. I keep my thoughts to myself. Decide to fuck with her instead. “Well, don’t worry, Mom. We’re waiting for that right man to come along to sweep us off our feet, a man who will honor and obey us, handle our ravenous sexual appetites, and submit to our freaky whims.”
    “Ugh! For the love of God,” she says, disgust dripping from her tone. “I know the three of you aren’t entertaining no nasty shit like that?”
    “Why not, Mother? It’s no secret we sleep with the same men. And we’re raw-dogging it and sharing each other’s spit every chance we get.””
    She lets out a disgusted grunt. “Persia, who in the hell are you talking to like that? Have you forgotten who the fuck I am to you? I want to know if you girls have even considered what would happen if the three of you end up pregnant by the sameman, and you have the audacity to want to make smart-ass comments.”
    “Of course we have,” I taunt, grinning. “We’ll give you beautiful grandbabies who’ll be cousins and half-siblings all in one.” The line goes dead. “Love you, too, Mother,” I say, laughing.

Paris
CHAPTER FOUR
    “Paradise Boutique, this is Paris speaking. How can I help you?”
    “Hi, yes,” the woman on the other end says. “I, um...was in your consignment shop a few days ago...”
    “We’re not a consignment shop, ma’am,” I inform her, slightly annoyed that I have to keep telling people this. “Nothing in our boutique is secondhand. And most of our merchandise is one-of-a-kind exclusives.”
    Geesh. This shit never ends. I’ve worked hard to build up my boutique’s reputation as one of the premier shopping experiences in the Tri-State area, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone refer to it as a damn consignment shop. After graduating from college and several jobs later, I realized that working a traditional nine-to-five was not something I could successfully do, so I decided that opening my own business was the most practical thing to do, for me.
    After college, I landed a job as an assistant buyer for Bloomingdale’s on Fifty-ninth Street in New York. Although I loved my job, I realized after six months of being there that it wasn’t something I wanted to do for someone else for any long period of time. I worked there for two-and-a-half years while going back to school to get a degree in Fashion Merchandising at FIT—Fashion Institute of Technology, for those of you whomight not know, then did an internship at a major fashion house for a year.
    Two years later, with savings and a small business loan, I opened Paradise Boutique—a chic, upscale clothing and handbag store in Montclair, New Jersey that specializes in one-of-a-kind fashion by new and up-and-coming designers, as well as, highend designer handbags. Then two years after I opened its doors, Persia and Porsha bought into the business, and have become partners. Persia maintains and manages the website and does all of our marketing, while Porsha handles the bookkeeping, utilizing their degrees in marketing and accounting, respectively. And thanks to them, Paradise Boutique has become one of the hottest boutiques