Page 1 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
(Los Angeles International Airport)
This trip is part of their New Year’s resolution to celebrate themselves more often and take extra chances.
They’re all forty and older, educated, and accomplished Black women, and that alone is worth celebrating.
However, as joyous as it is to celebrate themselves, they do live in a world where women’s safety isn’t guaranteed, which is why Lyric’s cousin, Cochise, a.k.a.
Big Head—nicknamed for how often he gets hit on—owner of a security company, has two guards escorting the women on their trip.
Lyric looks at the two gentlemen, Roc and Pete, who are walking advertisements to stay the fuck away from them.
Roc is a huge bald Black man, and Pete is Afro-Latino with short locks and the sides of his head shaved.
The two men look like they bench press Buicks for fun.
They both agreed to keep their distance during the trip, but will stay nearby in case some shit goes down—and with men existing everywhere, some shit will inevitably go down.
Still, they’re going to New Orleans; it would be nice if the two of them could enjoy themselves, too.
“Is there anything you gentlemen plan on doing when we get to the Big Easy?” Lyric asks.
“Keeping you ladies safe,” Roc answers.
“Y’all aren’t going to take time off to go explore anything?” Bridget asks.
“No,” Pete says.
“What about the culture? You two have to be excited about that,” Suchi adds.
“Nope. This is a job for us. We’re only interested in making sure you ladies are safe on your trip,” Roc replies.
“But we’re going to get gumbo, right?” Pete asks Roc.
“Oh, yeah, we gon’ fuck up some food.” Roc nods.
“If you boys are still hungry after, I know something you can eat,” Aimee purrs, her eyes hooded.
Both men look at her, speechless and eager to take her up on her offer. Their eyes are wide, and they’re both grinning.
“Aimee, that reminds me. Big Head told me to tell you to stop fucking his employees,” Lyric says.
“Wait, you’re that Aimee?” Roc asks.
“I take it Dominic has been talking about me.” Aimee grins.
Both these big-ass motherfuckers have the nerve to be chuckling with their heads down, looking embarrassed.
The effect Aimee has on men seriously needs to be studied , Lyric thinks.
Suchi’s phone buzzes. She looks down and shows Lyric the picture she received of Mrs. Rodriguez and Ginger, Suchi’s dog. Mrs. Rodriguez is Suchi’s neighbor and occasional dog sitter.
“Aw,” Suchi and Lyric coo.
The picture shows Ginger, a.k.a. Gingie, a.k.a. Ginge, a.k.a. little momma, sitting in Mrs. Rodriguez’s lap while snuggling up to her. Ginger’s an adult dog, but she’s so cute she might as well be a puppy. She’s an American Cocker Spaniel and looks just like Lady from Lady and the Tramp .
Bridget and Aimee look over and smile.
“That dog is spoiled as hell,” Bridget comments. She takes Suchi’s phone and shows Ginger to Roc and Pete.
“Yep, baby girl is definitely spoiled,” Roc agrees, while Pete nods.
Suchi playfully rolls her eyes and takes her phone back.
“Bridget, stop talking like you’re not a contributing spoiler,” Aimee teases.
“I’ll admit, Ginger has been the recipient of her fair share of treats thanks to me, but I’m not nearly as bad as y’all. Hell, look at how much you ladies spoil my kids,” Bridget defends herself.
“Hey! LJ and T are our godbabies. We’ve been watching over them since birth. We earned the right to spoil them,” Suchi replies.
“I guess. But y’all do tend to go overboard, Ms. Let’s Help LJ Get his First Car.”
“First off, it’s Dr. Let’s Help LJ Get his First Car,” Suchi corrects, making Bridget laugh. “And can you blame me? You saw how excited he got when we all made the agreement.”
Lyric smiles at the memory. They all told LJ, or Lamar Jr., that if he got into one of his top five choices—UCLA, UC Berkeley, Howard, Tuskegee or Dartmouth—his aunties would chip in with Bridget to get him a new car.
He just found out he got into two of the schools, so he’s getting one.
His worthless piece of shit daddy is only chipping in for insurance because he has to pay for his upcoming wedding, happening next year.
While it was Suchi’s idea to help with LJ’s car, Lyric was all too happy to chip in, too.
LJ is her baby boy, but Lyric also felt generous and wanted to celebrate her own win.
Helping Bridget and LJ is just phase one.
This trip is phase two. She starts her new job after the holiday break, and she couldn’t be more excited to be working for not just a firm but Theee Firm.
The Firm—which is its actual title—is a Black-owned and operated PR firm that specializes in being fixers for the rich and famous, especially the wealthy Black community.
Actors, singers, socialites, and athletes all clamor to have a publicist from The Firm fix their fuck ups.
The Firm stands out among other PR firms because their Founder and CEO, Roger Tyson, places character and integrity over profits.
They gained a positive reputation by representing the survivors of famous abusers, making sure that their side was heard, not drowned out by the media.
Instead of making the rich and famous shy away from them, this bold move put them on the map.
To no one’s surprise, a lot of female and femme celebrities have horror stories of their own, and a good number came to Roger to finally tell their truth.
This helped legitimize The Firm and because women are the driving force behind everything, men soon followed.
The client who solidified them was Grammy-winning, multi-platinum selling rapper, The Emperor Julez.
He hired The Firm during his divorce from Danissa Carter.
She tried to paint him as a deadbeat financially when there was no evidence of the sort.
She fucked up by demanding more money in child support when Julez was already paying her $150,000 a month.
He hired The Firm and a lawyer specifically recommended by Roger.
In the end, he got full custody of his three little girls.
His attorney argued that if his monthly payments weren’t enough, then the girls would be better off living with him.
Since then, The Firm’s business has been booming.
When Roger offered Lyric a place there, she jumped ship from Evans, Pell and Linford—a place where she was the only Black face—to The Firm with the quickness.
She and her girls are celebrating this job opportunity along with their fresh outlooks on life. New beginnings are happening everywhere.
The ladies board with their bodyguards when their group is called.
Bridget and Aimee added more words to the respective works-in-progress during the four-hour flight, while Suchi and Lyric napped.
They touch down in New Orleans before making their way to the luggage carousel, and soon, they’re in the back of an SUV on their way to the hotel, Roc and Pete sitting in the row of seats in front of them.
“Girls, I know this is a fun trip, but I’d really like it if we could pay our respects to the ancestors and visit a plantation,” Bridget suggests.
“I don’t know, Bridge. I don’t think I can mentally handle that,” Suchi confesses.
“And I don’t know if I have the temperament to handle that. I might just punch a white person purely on principle,” Lyric adds.
Aimee chimes in. “I guess it’s just you and me, Bridge.”
“Okay, we’ll map out which ones are closest to the hotel and try to visit at least two.”
“Sounds good.”
“I admire your commitment ladies ’cause whew, chile … I don’t think I could stomach visiting one, let alone two,” Lyric comments.
“Bridge and I like to think of it as giving remembrance to those who came before us. After all, they built this country. We think they want to be remembered for it,” Aimee explains.
“Yeah, and it’s fun to make the white tourists feel guilty. Aims and I have this thing where when the tour guide shares something really fucked up, we look the nearest white person in the eye for a really uncomfortable amount of time,” Bridget confesses.
“Okay, now I kind of want to go,” Lyric remarks.
The four friends share a laugh. Roc shakes his head and chuckles.
Pete says, “Big Head warned us about you ladies.”
“What did he say?” Lyric asks.
“His exact words were, ‘My cousin and her girls be wildin,’” Roc answers.
“We’ve only been with y’all a few hours and Aimee’s propositioned us, and you all are talking about scaring white folks,” Pete adds.
Lyric shrugs. “We’re good at keeping men on their toes.”
Thirty minutes later, the ladies enter their suite in the New Orleans Park-Barrington Hotel, with Roc and Pete next door.
The four friends smile at each other in excitement.
The suite is large enough to accommodate the four of them.
It has common areas—the living room and a full kitchen—and there are individual bedrooms. It’s like they have their own apartment.
After showering and getting dressed, Lyric waits for her friends by the door of the hotel room. Out comes Suchi first, prompting Lyric to whistle, which makes Suchi blush and giggle.
Suchi is gorgeous. She has honey brown eyes and a smile that will take your breath away.
Her copper skin glows, and her cute light brown, blondish curls are styled in a bun.
She’s rocking tight dark blue jeans, black leather boots that come up to her knees and a black bustier top, with a bow in the front that makes her already big tits pop.
She matches it with a black swede jacket.
Suchi is the sweet-hearted love bug of their group, so her choice of outfit is definitely out of character for her.
Lyric shakes her head and chuckles warmly.
“What’s so funny?” Suchi playfully looks at her with suspicion.
“Aimee picked your outfit, didn’t she?”
“Yep.” Suchi does a twirl.