Page 5 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming

Ho-lee crap ! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity . If I nail an assignment involving the Hamilton family, this could put me in demand .

“I don’t want to hurt Momma Dola or Lee, but I also can’t afford to be on the receiving end of my father’s ire,” Ranson continues. “This whole situation has the potential to divide our family, which is why I need you and Roger's help to mitigate the situation.”

“Mr. Hamilton—” Lyric starts.

“Please call me Ranson,” he smiles.

The combo of his velvety voice, dark brown eyes and breathtaking smile almost do a one-two punch on Lyric, but she keeps her poker face intact.

She smiles back. “Of course. Ranson, if you don’t mind me asking, you’ve made a tremendous amount of money with this venture. You can afford to buy your father out, can’t you?”

“I can, but that’s not how Parker Hamilton operates. He has to have his hand in everything we do. The only people to escape are Kimber, Kordell and Yusef. And they all have significantly less money since they got out of my father’s grip. As I’m sure you’re aware, he’s been known to hold a grudge.”

That’s an understatement .

Rumor has it that if there’s one thing Parker Hamilton is, it’s vindictive, even with his own kids.

Kimber’s husband took a job elsewhere after Parker offered him a position at Hamilton Media and she was cut off.

Nobody knows what went down between Kordell and his father, but Kordell was quoted as saying, “He’s dead to me,” leading to Parker releasing a rare statement announcing that Kordell’s inheritance would be split among his other kids, just like Kimber.

And Yusef—born Marlon Hamilton—renounced his wealth and married a girl from Zimbabwe, changing his name and taking her surname.

Apparently, Parker was not pleased and responded in kind to Yusef.

Ranson continues speaking. “Momma Dola has suffered enough at the hands of my father, and Lee’s business deserves a shot.

Parker will not be pleased, and he’ll take it out on some very fine people whose businesses will suffer because of his tantrum.

He’ll swallow them all up and spit them out like they’re nothing.

These folks worked too hard planning, building and dedicating every waking hour to their dreams just to have him take it all away. ”

Lyric nods.

The passion with which he talks about helping people’s dreams become reality makes Lyric want him to win.

During negotiations for the job, she made it abundantly clear to Roger that if an assignment comes her way and she doesn’t align with the clients, she won’t take it.

This is the type of client and assignment that’s right up her alley.

A Black man trying to help struggling Black businesses flourish, and that may be in danger due to petty family nonsense?

Not on her watch. Ideas are already brimming in her head.

“You formulating a plan, aren’t you?” Roger asks her.

“I am,” Lyric replies.

Roger smiles. “This is why I’m putting you on this assignment. Please email all the info necessary regarding the Eliza fallout to Artie. He’s taking over. Ranson Hamilton is your focus. This is priority one.”

“Got it. Thank you, Roger.” Lyric turns to Ranson. “Ranson, please come to my office where we can discuss the details of our next steps.”

“Of course. Thank you. Both of you.”

Roger nods.

Ranson and Lyric exit Roger’s office. His phone buzzes.

“Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“Certainly. My office is straight ahead when you’re done,” Lyric states.

Ranson gives her a grin as sweet as honey paired with hooded eyes.

Lyric heads into her office, and as she’s trying to push thoughts of how delectable he is from her mind, there’s a knock on her door, startling her.

She jumps.

“You okay, Fuqua?” Artie smiles, standing in her doorway.

She smiles back. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Artie is one of her favorite coworkers. He has the unique distinction of being best friends with two of The Firm’s biggest clients—Christopher Rossmore, CEO of Rossmore Wine, and his fiancée Izzie Taylor, CEO of Taylor Made Hair Care.

This gives him an insider perspective to the inner workings of rich folks.

He looks like his usual sharp self with his Vera Wang suit and tortoise-shell glasses. He’s a good-looking fellow. His brown skin is similar in complexion to Suchi’s and his eyes are a haunting shade of gray. He gives Aaron Pierre vibes. Lyric knows men eat out of his hands easily.

“Sorry, my mind is just buzzing about this new assignment. I was about to send you all my info on Eliza.”

“Thanks, and I’m not even going to mention how unfair it is that you got assigned to handle the Hamilton situation, even though I know one of them.”

“You just did.” Lyric smirks.

“Well, can you blame me for being a tad bit jealous? That man is finer than frog hair, and I’m stuck with a spoiled princess who says goofy shit about breast feeding. Like other people’s titties are her business.” Artie rolls his eyes.

Lyric chuckles. “Don’t worry. I made sure she understood how detrimental her words were.”

“Did you make her cry?” Artie jokes.

“Shut up.” Lyric laughs.

“Yeah, you made her cry.” Artie laughs, too.

“Don’t talk shit. These are our clients.”

Artie waves away her concern. “Well, if these rich kids would just get a group chat or a fucking diary, they wouldn’t have all these problems.”

“We also wouldn’t have jobs, sir,” Lyric jokes.

“Touché.” Artie grins.

Ranson returns. Artie moves out of his way and lets him in.

Ranson looks at him. “Artie! How are you? How are Chris and Izzie doing? Tell them congratulations for me.”

“I’m doing well, and so are they. I’ll tell them you asked about them. Congratulations on the newest member of the Hamilton brood.”

“He’ll be a Lawrence but thank you. Mike is very excited to be a mom.” Ranson smiles tellingly.

Lyric sees how excited Ranson is to be an uncle again. She also thinks it’s cute that he calls his sister, Michaela, Mike.

Stop it, girl, focus . Remember your poker face . This man is a client . A fine ass, kind - hearted, sexy client that smells hella good, but a client none-the-less .

“It was good seeing you, Ranson. I bid you both adieu,” Artie says.

“Bye, Art,” Lyric replies.

Artie leaves, and Ranson closes the door behind him before taking a seat in front of Lyric’s desk.

“Ms. Fuqua?—”

“Lyric. You can call me Lyric.”

“Lyric Fuqua. That’s quite a name.”

“Lyric Annalise Fuqua. And my mother said she knew I was meant for greatness, and she wanted my name to stand out.”

“Good job, Momma Fuqua.” He smirks.

“We’re supposed to be talking about how we can assure that your father doesn’t tear down your business.”

“Of course, but you can’t blame me for wanting to get to know you. We are going to be working closely together.”

The way he says closely makes Lyric’s poker face slip for a second. She bites her lip, then quickly realizes what she’s done and corrects herself.

“Nice save. You fixed your face almost quick enough for me to not catch that lip bite.” He winks.

Heat creeps up her cheeks, but she tells herself to stop tripping before her brown skin reveals her innermost thoughts.

“Focus, Ranson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Was that a twang I heard ?

Can’t be. All the Hamiltons are born and bred in Los Angeles.

Lyric was born and raised in Memphis, but her family relocated when she was five.

Her accent isn’t nearly as heavy as it once was.

She wanted to fit in at school, so she taught herself how to speak without one.

It’s not that Lyric didn’t like her accent, she just didn’t want to be teased.

On the contrary, she loves Southern dialects.

Especially on Black men! Truth be told, Southern brothers are her kryptonite.

“Good. Now the plan I have will call for you to let the businesses you’ve helped know that there will be changes coming down the pipeline. Is there a way for you to find another source of capital without your father getting wind of it?”

“Doubtful. Again, he has his hands in everything concerning us. He has ears everywhere. If we’re the Lannisters, then Morris is his own personal Lord Varys.”

Morris being Morris DuBose. The personal assistant to Parker Hamilton. He’s known for doing sneaky underhanded things to help Parker get the upper hand on his competitors.

“Then we’ll just have to be sneakier than Mr. DuBose,” Lyric proclaims.

“I like your confidence. I’m just not sure I feel the same,” Ranson replies.

“You let me worry about that.” Lyric smiles. “For now, aside from Morris, who else do I need to know about?”

“He’s pretty much it. Morris is the one who commands all the ears listening. He’d be the one to tell my father about Lee and Momma Dola.”

“Then we’ll concentrate on him. Here’s my card with all my info.”

Ranson puts her info in his phone and sends her a text, so she has his number.

Her phone buzzes.

Ranson

Call me anytime, day or night.

“Will do. I’ll let you know what I find,” Lyric replies.

“Sounds good. Thank you again, Lyric.”

You have got to stop saying my name like that .

“You’re welcome, Ranson.”