Page 30 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, that works for me, too.” He nods rapidly.
She giggles at his antics.
“That makes up for all the times I got made fun of for my name.” Ranson takes a bite of sausage.
“Really? What was the worst you got teased?”
“Let’s see. I got called ‘Rancid.’ Oh, then there was my personal favorite,‘We’re going to kidnap Ranson and hold him for ransom.’”
Lyric burst out laughing.
“What the hell, woman? Being kidnapped is a huge fear for rich kids,” Ranson complains.
This just makes Lyric laugh even harder.
“That’s cold.” Ranson shakes his head.
Ranson dropsLyric off at work. She leans over and kisses him. Soon, their mouths are locked, with them each taking a nibble of the other’s bottom lip.
“What time do you usually take lunch?” he asks.
“Around one, why?” She wipes her lipstick off his lips.
“I’ll make you lunch, then drop it off later. What would you like?”
“Not you being a house husband already,” Lyric jokes.
Why are you talking about marriage this soon?Really, L?
She chalks it up to how comfortable Ranson makes her feel. And he doesn’t seem phased.
“I still have to work for a living, so I’m not exactly at house husband status. Not to mention, I have to put a ring on it first.” Ranson takes her hand and kisses it.
Lyric smiles. “We’ll give that some more time. I’ll see you later with my Cobb salad.”
“Yes, you will.” He grins.
At one o’clock on the dot, there’s a knock on Lyric’s office door.
“Come in,” she says.
The door opens and instead of Ranson, she’s sees Morris DuBose, Parker Hamilton’s assistant/henchman.
Ranson
Ranson takesthe elevator to The Firm’s floor. When he gets off, there’s a weird vibe in the air. He instinctively rushes to Lyric’s office, and sees Lyric at her desk, looking like she’s two seconds from serving someone a two piece and a biscuit, and not the kind from Popeye’s.
He smells the cause of her mood before he sees him.
Morris.
He’s worn that same cologne for as long as he’s worked for Parker. And he’s been his lackey since Ranson was fifteen. He’s only four years Ranson’s senior, but he looks decades older. That’s what working for Parker gets you. A lot of stress and not much else of value. Yes, Morris is compensated handsomely, but at what cost? He’s unmarried, no kids, and dedicates his life to having his head up the ass of a man who wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire. Morris is Smithers to his father’s Mr. Burns.
“Lyric, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, still looking at Morris like he can still catch some hands.
“Ranson, good to see you. I was simply congratulating Ms. Fuqua on your new coupling. It is very new indeed. It’s almost as if you two aredatingin order to deflect from something more important.”
