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She laughs. “Nuttier as ever, but that’s still my girl.”
Angel’s her best friend since junior high school. And she’s the thorn in Persia’s side. For some reason, Persia has never liked her. I believe it has to do with the fact that the two of them are very close; almost like sisters. Although Persia will deny it, I think she’s jealous of Angel and feels threatened by their relationship. Why is beyond me since the three of us—though we’ve had our share of cat fights and misunderstandings like any other siblings—we love each other dearly and are extremely close. Come to think of it, Persia has always been overprotective of Paris and me, even when there was no reason to be. And she has always seemed to have a problem with anyone who she thinks might get in the middle of our relationship.
“Some things never change,” I say, chuckling.
“They sure don’t,” she agrees. “I can’t wait to see my sistergirl. We are gonna cut up something terrible.” I smile, knowingly. “Anyway, I need to find something fierce to wear.”
“What time do you wanna go?”
“Right now. Something Gucci and cute is calling my name.”
I laugh. “Come to think about it, it’s calling mine, too.”
“Good, then. It’s settled. I’ll swing by to pick you up and we’ll be on our way. See if Persia wants to go.”
“Uh, it’s you and me, boo,” I say, walking into my closet to find something to wear. “Persia’s out somewhere reeling in a new customer.”
“Good for her. We’ll pick her up something cute.”
“See you when you get here,” I say before hanging up. I glance out the window, looking at the sky, deciding today’s a nice day to wear a denim wrap dress and a sexy pair of heels. I hop in the shower, wash myself good, then hop out. Wrapping a towel around me, I strut out into my bedroom with beads of water still rolling down my skin to answer my ringing cell. Glancing at the screen, I frown, not familiar with the number. “Hello?”
“Hey, cuz. Long time, no hear.”
“Gaaaaaaaaaarrett,” I scream into the phone, excited to hear his voice. “How’s my favorite cousin doing? Where the hell have you been, man? I haven’t talked to you in ages?”
“I know, cuz. I’m real sorry for not staying in touch. Things were real hectic for a minute. But, I’m good. How’ve you been? You’ve been in my thoughts, babe.”
“And you’ve been in mine,” I say, applying lotion to my legs. “I’m fabulous, boo; still fly and sexy as ever. You know how I do it.”
He laughs. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. How are Persia and Paris?” I tell him they’re good. He wants to know how my parents are doing. My father and his father are brothers. Although Garrett’s a few years older than us, growing up we spent a lot of time together; especially during the summers. He was like the son our father never had, and the big brother we dreamed of. “Dad’s doing wonderful. Mom, well...you know her. She’s still mom. Still fussing about something every chance she gets.”
He chuckles, knowingly. “That’s good. Tell them I asked about them.”
“I sure will.” I ask him how his parents are doing. He tells me well. Tells me they’re thinking about moving to Florida to get away from the brutal Jersey winters we’ve been having and all of these high-ass taxes. I tell him I definitely understand.
“How’s business treating you, Miss Big Time Boutique owner?”
“Believe it or not, it’s been good this year. It was a little scary the first two years, with the economy being all crazy. But, surprisingly, things have picked up and I can keep the bills paid.”
“That’s definitely a blessing,” he says. “I always knew you’d be successful.”
“Awww, thanks,” I say, sliding into a purple thong. “It’s definitely a blessing.” I toss the matching bra back into the drawer, deciding to let my titties bounce freely. “Listen, enough about me. I wanna hear all about you and your blessings. What in the world have you been up to? Daddy told me you had a baby.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I have a son. His name’s Garrison. He’s almost a year old, and into everything. But that’s my little man.”
“And why don’t I have any pictures of him?” I ask, feigning hurt. “I thought I was your favorite cousin.”
He laughs. “You are, babe. Charge it to my head; not my heart. Bianca handles all that kinda stuff.”
“Oooooh, Biiiiiiiaaaaaanca...Do tell, now. So she’s yo
ur baby momma.”
He laughs. “She’s actually more than my baby momma; she’s my fiancée.”
“Fiancée? Oh nooooo. You didn’t clear this with me,” I tease, walking into the bathroom to comb out my wrap. “I need to meet homegirl, ASAP.”
“Most definitely,” he says, sounding really happy. “You might have seen her before.”
