Page 1 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
PROLOGUE
December 29, 2024,
12:30 P.M., LAX
(Los Angeles International Airport)
Lyric Fuqua sits at gate 3B of Voyage Air, waiting to board. She looks at her girls and smiles. Dr. Suchi Brown, a renowned child psychologist; Dr. Aimee Turner, an educator and the author ofThe Prince’s Journey,a book series that Aimee has dubbed a Black adult fairytale; and Bridget Nelson, or BR Nelson, a popular adult fantasy author ofThe Queen’s Dilemmaseries. These phenomenal women have been her best friends since their freshman year at UCLA. They’ve been there for each other over the past twenty-two years, through undergrad, grad school, PhDs, career changes, new relationships and breakups. And for Bridget, that included marriage, childbirth, and divorce. But through it all, they have remained each other’s constant support system.
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 thatalone 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’rethatAimee?” 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 fromLady 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.
