Page 39 of D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

“My statement still stands,” I said with another shrug, smiling widely at the way D’Vaughn’s face flushed as she tried to redefine what her mother and sister had walked up on. It was fun, teasing her like this, especially when she was such a good sport about it.

Narrowing her eyes at me, she shook her head. “You always wanna misbehave in public. I’mma stop taking you places.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to her mother, who was watching the two of us in amusement, a soft smile on her face as her eyes volleyed between us. “Ms. Miller, please tell your daughter to stop being such a spoilsport.”

The woman giggled and gave her eldest child a knowing look. “You’d better cherish the silly moments, D’Vaughn.”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, D’Vaughn threw her hands up in the air. “How did you manage to steal my mama’s loyalty so quickly?”

“Oh hush, girl!” Ms. Miller exclaimed. “I’m always on your side. I want to see you happy, and since Kris seems to make that happen—at least as far as I’ve seen—I’m going to advocate for her. If that starts to change, then you should be worried.” Both D’Vaughn and D’Niesha were staring silently at their mother, pure astonishment on each of their faces, but she ignored them both in lieu of turning to face the building. “Now, tell me about this place you picked, since you wouldn’t even consider the church even though we just redid the sanctuary.”

D’Vaughn quickly shot me a look and I nodded my acknowledgment. She’d already warned me how her mother might react to the venues, so I was more than prepared to handle the blowback. I began to rattle off the information.

“The Starlight Palace is the premier one-stop shop for weddings and receptions in the Greater Houston area.” Since I was essentially parroting the bullet points that had been included with our tasks for the week, I waved a hand in front of us as if I was Vanna White.

The Starlight Palace was a nondescript anchor in a mostly unoccupied shopping strip. Half of the signs on the marquee were faded, and there was grass growing straight through the asphalt in several places across the parking lot. Standing outside felt like we were in some dystopian-era video game where zombies randomly appear out of nowhere and run headfirst to attack you. I didn’t like that feeling. The place already gave me bad vibes and we hadn’t even stepped foot inside yet. I hadn’t been expecting the show to pick the venues, but I supposed it made sense since they were not only covering the costs, but also wanted to guarantee good television.

“Hold up!” D’Niesha called. “Um, who is that and why is he filming us?”

I looked over my shoulder to see that D’Niesha was pointing to Felix, who’d been standing off to the side with his camera on his shoulder, trained on us. I’d forgotten that he was there. Raising my eyebrows, I turned back to D’Vaughn who quickly took over, giving her sister the story we had agreed to use.

As close to the truth as possible.

“Oh, Kris is big-famous on the socials. She’s filming content for her fifty-leven million followers.”

D’Niesha’s eyes swung over to me. “You’re not exploiting my sister, are you?”

“OMG, Niesha.” D’Vaughn covered her face as I jerked back in surprise.

“What?! Hel—ahem. I mean, of course not. I never even post her.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because her eyes narrowed into tight slits.

“You’re social media famous and you never post the woman you’re about to marry in five weeks? That sounds highly suspicious.” She looked back and forth between me and her sister. “Whose idea was this?”

D’Vaughn sighed. “It was mine, Niesha. So you can back down now.”

“Nah, not yet. Not until I know that you didn’t suggest this after being made to feel like you weren’t good enough to be posted.” She turned back to me. “Are your followers hostile to anyone who isn’t family? Does your brand depend on you appearing single?”

“Leave them alone, Niesha,” Ms. Miller scolded. “Vaughn hasn’t implied anything like that is going on.”

D’Niesha shook her head. “No, Mama, because I refuse to see my sister get taken for a fool behind a pretty face and nice tatt—”

“D’Niesha,” D’Vaughn snapped, cutting the other woman off sharply. “I appreciate your concern, but this is not what you’re making it out to be. I requested that Kris keep me off of her pages because I don’t want to get caught up in a viral moment that could possibly affect my job in a negative way. Even if I don’t go viral, if Kris happened to post an opinion that isn’t shared by the directors of my school, it could have less than stellar consequences for me. You, of all people, know how much my career means to me. Kris knows as well, and because she loves and respects me, she in turn honors my decision, even if it goes against what she would prefer.”

“Hey,” I interjected, facing D’Niesha and using the soothing and melodic voice that I usually reserved for calming unruly preteens. “I love that you’ve got your sister’s back. It makes me feel good to know that she has you in her corner going hard on her behalf.”

D’Niesha smirked. “I’m glad you feel that way, because since y’all robbed me of the opportunity to grill you before you even got to the engagement stage, you’re going to be getting more of it as I get to know you. Your bad.” She smirked, not at all resembling the sweet woman with the powerful voice who sang the building down at their church on Sunday.

Ms. Miller just shook her head. D’Vaughn’s groan made me chuckle. She rolled her eyes toward her sister.

“I swear you get on my nerves sometimes.”

“And that’s fine. But you’ll also never be able to say that I’m not your rider, and that’s more important to me.”

As D’Vaughn giggled and pulled her sister into a hug, I shared a smile with their mother. From the way she was mostly quiet during the confrontation, it was clear that she was used to this. Glancing at my watch, I noted that my parents were about ten minutes late. As I pulled out my phone, ready to call and check their ETA, I heard the familiar rumbling of an SUV. I looked up to see Papi’s Tahoe turn into the parking lot at no less than forty miles an hour.

“Oh my,” Ms. Miller murmured as the Zavala clan climbed out of the three-row vehicle. “That’s some entourage.”