My Way to You (Brothers in Law Book 1)
My Way to You by Lyndell Williams
Printed in 2018
All Rights Reserved
My Way to you is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
For more information, address: laylfied@gmail.com.
Warning: This book contains strong language, sex scenes and elements of violence, racism, and sexual abuse.
Published by:
Deen Love Books
New York
Cover designed by Taria Reed
http://www.tariareed.net/
Content Edited by Tiffani Burnett Velez
Copy Edited and Proofread by Nakia Jackson
ASIN: B07K3PZXHY
www.laylawriteslove.com
MY WAY TO YOU
A Brothers in Law Novel
Book 1
By Lyndell Williams
Deen Love Books
New York
For all the interracial couples struggling against bigotry and intolerance to be in each other’s arms.
And in this gauntlet of Love—that life has put us through—Beyond the hurdles of your heart—Is how I’ll find my way, to you.
ALKEBULAUN
Table of Contents
1-Back in New York
2-A Working Dinner
3-Can You Go Somewhere?
4-Dinner and a Cab
5-You Forgot Me
6-Vince Deckland
7-Enjoying the Ride
8-Let’s Keep This Between Us
9-Basketball with Marcus
10-Jamaica Station
11-Samantha
12 - Am I Forgiven?
13 – Strap on a Helmet
14 -Regina Makes Breakfast
15 - Cocktail Party from Hell
16 - Simon’s Place
17 – Kimchi
18 - Regina Meets Alice
19 – Subway
20 – Instagram
21 - Be a Man About Yours
22 - Marcus Confronts Simon
23 - Heart to Heart
24 - You Can Go Now, Regina
25 - I Need to Find Her
26 - I Love You Too
27 - Condom Break
28 – Boardroom
29 - Red Line
30 - Skinny Girls’ Pill
31 - I Need Space
32 - Regina and Jeremy
33 – Emergency
34 - Shower
35 - Eggs with Alice
36 - Courthouse
37 - Give it to Vince
38 - Doin’ It Well
39 - Justine Young
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Chapter 1
Back in New York
Simon’s chest swelled as he let the box of books hit the wood floor with a loud thud. He surveyed his new digs. Although the Brooklyn Heights apartment was not the same as his mother’s sprawling house in Jamaica Estates, it was good to be officially a New Yorker again. He achieved his goals in Boston, but his longing for home nagged him the entire four years he’d lived there. He also couldn’t wait to get away from the pain and bad memories.
There wasn’t much left to do in the apartment. Save for a few boxes and pictures leaning on the walls where they were to be hung, he was pretty much set. All the furniture was in place, the handiwork of his mother, who oversaw the deliveries like a drill sergeant. Alice Young had gotten straight to business. She made certain that her son’s new abode was as comfortable and organized as his childhood home. Getting his bearings at the new law firm that recruited him after his first summer internship was challenging, and the last thing he had time for was to supervise painters and handymen. I have to do something nice for her as soon as things settle down at work.
He reached for the buzzing phone on the counter. “Hi, Ma.” Simon pressed the phone against his ear and began stocking small jars from a bag on the floor into the empty refrigerator.
“Hello, Simon. Are you all settled?”
“Yes.”
“Did you put the kimchi in the refrigerator?”
“I did.” The last jar rattled against the rest. “Thanks for making them for me.” He closed the refrigerator and rubbed his growling stomach. As good as his mother’s kimchi was, he had a hankering for something else.
“Of course. Let me know when you want more.”
“Will do.”
“I packed the rest of your things here. I can have them mailed to you.”
“No, Ma. That’s okay.” Simon grabbed the keys off the counter and shoved his wallet into his jacket pocket. “I’ll get them the next time I come out there.”
“I’ll leave them in your old room then. Have you eaten?”
“That sounds good.” Simon stood in front of the entryway mirror, combing his fingers through the top of his hair, still amazed at how intuitive his mother was. “I’m going to get somethin’ now.” The soft click of the apartment door’s lock echoed down the hall as he headed for the elevators.
“Eating out? You know you can’t live like that, Simon. It’s not healthy.”
“I know, Ma. Don’t worry. I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow. Lots of fruits and vegetables. I promise.” He endured his mother’s subsequent lecture about proper nutrition all the way to the subway platform, injecting the requisite yeses, confirming that he was dutifully listening. “Ma, I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“I’m sure you will.” Alice’s tone conveyed the perfect combination of sarcasm and warning. “But I’ll be busy getting ready for my trip, so we can talk when I get back. Love you.”
“Okay, ma. Love you too,” Simon shouted into the phone, unsure if she heard him over the screeching sound of the train.
***
Simon weaved through the rows of tables, then sat and inhaled the glorious mixture of aromas wafting around him. He typed I’m here, man before setting down his phone. The tapestry of people testified to the popularity of Sylvia’s Tiny Kitchen and proved that it was worth the subway ride from Brooklyn to dine. Sitting in the middle of the soul food restaurant reminded him of days spent travelling on the train across the city with his dad, who was a hard-core fan of the cuisine and passed it onto his son.
He raised his hand to catch the attention of a waiter. After weeks of newness, it was finally time to enjoy something that solidified that he was truly home. Just like the traditional Korean and Irish dishes served at the Young residence, the steaming plates at the Harlem landmark represented a staple of his life. He scanned the menu. I want some catfish.
“Welcome to Sylvia’s. What would you like today?”
He opened his mouth to order, but was interrupted by a voice from across the crowded restaurant. “Simon!” He turned, and his gaze fell upon two men weaving towards him. The tall, muscular man led the pair. His eyes flashed recognition; the corners of his mouth pulled back exposing shining white teeth. Simon bolted out of his seat and gripped the broad forearm.
“Hey, man.” Familiarity fueled Simon’s excitement at the sight of his best friend Marcus Kent's warm, brown face. He wrapped his free arm around the brawny man, giving as firm a squeeze as he got. Marcus stepped back, keeping one hand on Simon’s shoulder.
“You look good, man. Did you have an easy time findin’ the place?” Marcus’s hand came down on Simon’s shoulder in a few hearty pats.
“Please,” Simon gave Marcus’s bicep a playful
jab, “I’ve been coming to Sylvia’s since I was a kid. You’re the Long Islander.
Marcus belted out a baritone laugh. “True. I hope you don’t mind, I brought my intern.” Marcus slapped the back of the young man next to him, whose head towered over even a man of his stature. “Simon, meet Jeremy Stacks. He’s pursuing a future in law as well.”
“Absolutely. Nice to meet you, Jeremy.”
The waitress cleared her throat. Simon looked over to the woman standing, tapping her order pad. “So, that’ll be three?” Her tapping moved from her pad to the floor with her foot.
“Yes, thank you,” said Simon with a sheepish smile. The men sat and quickly ordered before returning to their conversation. Simon read his phone.
Missy: How about we chill tonight?
Simon: Sure, I can’t come until later tonight though.
Missy: I’ll wait up.
He smiled at the sexy picture that appeared on his phone.
“So,” Marcus leaned back in his chair and smirked, “you still have the women fallin’ all over you and that sexy Asian game of yours?”
Simon let out a soft chuckle. “I do aight. How’s Toni?”
“She’s good. Her practice is thriving. Now, let me guess, you’re at that big law firm that was sniffing after you?”
“Pretty much. As I recall, the headhunters were chasing you big time too. Did you choose a firm?”
Marcus shook his head. “Nah, man. I decided against churning in the legal machine. I launched a small, multi-service not-for-profit. I want to make a direct difference for folks catching hell around here.”
The waitress returned with drinks and bread. Simon bit pensively into a roll. “You always said you wanted to get involved in community organizing. I just thought it would be after you established a legal career.”
Marcus took a long drink from his glass before setting it down. “Well, there are more than enough lawyers ready to work for rich folks. It’s the poor who struggle for justice. Now I’m helping them with that struggle.” The playfulness vanished from his eyes. “I remember when that was important to you as well.”
Simon shifted in his chair. Marcus always shot straight from the hip and made no apologies. His former college roommate was particularly careful at making sure he didn’t stray too far from his humanitarian commitments while he pursued success. “Yeah, it still is.” The waitress placed the hot plates on the table. Simon reached for the pepper and sprinkled his catfish. “I haven’t forgotten how important it is to give back. Didn’t I always volunteer with you?”
Marcus grinned while he cut into the chicken in front of him. “Indeed, you did.” He lifted the forkful of food and pointed it at Simon. “You stayed committed to whatever needed to be done. So, what are you doing to give back now?” The fork disappeared into his mouth.
A pang of guilt grew in Simon’s stomach. “I haven’t found an endeavor of interest,” he said before putting his glass to his mouth.
Marcus’ brows shot up. “Really? I find that surprising that no organization wants to avail themselves of someone as shrewd as you.”
“Yeah, go figure.” Simon chomped down on his fish. He shifted his gaze to Marcus’s young companion, who he’d forgotten was even there. Does he even talk? What am I gonna do? With this busy schedule of mine, I never considered volunteering anywhere, but Marc is right. “Maybe,” Simon raised his eyebrows at Marcus, “there’s something I can do for you?”
Marcus lifted the napkin from his lap and wiped his fingers. “We do offer free legal services. Would you be interested in volunteering?”
“Definitely. Where are you located?”
A card appeared from Marcus’ shirt pocket. “Harlem.” He dropped it on the table next to Simon’s plate. “We’ve a committee that meets once a month to strategize about initiatives and funding. I think it would be a good idea for you to come and sit.”
“Sounds good.” Pulling the wallet from his jacket, Simon shoved Marcus’ card in before retrieving his. “But I’ll need two or three weeks before committing to anything. I’m still gettin’ my bearings at work.”
Marcus flipped Simon’s card front and back before placing it into his shirt pocket. “Uh-huh.” He jabbed at his plate until his fork was refilled. “You were always organized and quick on the uptake. Unless things have changed, I’m sure you already have your bearings.” The last mound of food disappeared and Marcus signaled for the check.
Simon rubbed the back of his neck. Marcus made it obvious that he would not be put off and expected a shorter time frame for his friend to join him in the cause. “One week?”
Marcus slammed his hand on the table as he rose, rattling the plates and glasses. “Great. I knew you still had it in you. We’re meeting this Thursday at 7:30.”
“That’s not one week.”
“The address is on the card.” Marcus thanked the waitress and grabbed the check.
“No, Marcus. I got it.” Simon attempted to take the small slip from his friend, but it was moved out of his reach.
Marcus surveyed the check, then pulled a bunch of bills from his wallet. “Too late,” he smiled at the waitress, “Keep the change.”
The waitress’s eyes lit at Marcus’s generosity. “Thank you, sir. Enjoy your evening.”
Stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, He looked down at Simon with a smug grin. “I plan to.”
Jeremy reminded the men of his existence by rising and standing behind Marcus. “It was nice meeting you,” the young man said pushing his glasses up his nose. Was this the future of law? His face was so smooth, it indicated that shaving wasn’t even necessary.
“So, Simon. I’ll see you on Thursday?”
Simon raised his hands in defeat. “I’ll put it on my schedule.”
Marcus clamped down onto the back of his neck like when they were in college. “I knew you would. Great seein’ you, bro.” The two men weaved their way out of the restaurant and disappeared into the street.
Simon asked the waitress to put the rest of his meal in a to-go container, and headed for the subway. A series of notifications—each containing an image of his friend in fewer clothes—reminded him that he wasn’t going straight home to Brooklyn and needed to take different train.
***
The following morning, Simon strode through the maze of cubicles. His black leather backpack flung behind his back, he navigated the twists and turns while balancing not one but two coffee cups. It only took a couple of weeks for him to devise a system to efficiently navigate through the entire building, which involved walking past the right offices while avoiding others.
“Good morning, Agnes,” Simon smiled at the executive assistant for one of the senior partners, tilting his coffee in celebration of the day.
“’Morning, Simon.”
The matronly-dressed woman’s smile revealed a set of highly-polished dentures. Simon was always generally cordial to people, but he made it a special point to charm the firm’s staff. It never hurt to have them on your side.
He turned a corner. His assistant, Corella was working at her desk.
“Good morning, Corella.” His face beaming like a school boy with an apple for the teacher, Simon presented a coffee cup to her. “Two creams, no sugar.”
Corella pulled off her reading glasses. “Thanks, Simon.”
He dipped his head. “You’re welcome.” He stood in front of the desk, immobile, while his assistant checked out the caffeinated morning libations.
Corella’s nose crinkled a little. She sniffed, carefully took one sip and smiled “You didn’t have to.”
Simon turned on his heel. “But I did.” He strutted into his office.
She was the best assistant the firm had to offer. Years working with attorneys from associates to senior partners not only meant she had tons of experience but knowledge of the firm’s inner workings. She knew where the bodies were buried. As a result, many feared her, but more so, they respected her.
She was valued enough at
the firm that she could choose her own assignment. Simon was fortunate. Corella had tired of working with the last attorney and was looking to team up with another when he started. She selected him after a 10-minute conversation in his office. She was smart, organized, and efficient, and he did his best to make sure that she knew he appreciated her hard work.
Simon sat at his office desk. It was a small but respectable workspace. One wall hosted built in shelves and a closet, where he kept extra clothes. His L-shaped desk held his computer and a few drawers. On one side of the desk was his chair and opposite it was another for clients. It was a lot better than being stuck in the maze of cubicles, and there was a huge window that let in plenty of light.
Simon hung his jacket on the back of the door, sat at his desk and rolled his sleeves.
“Simon?” Corella called from the doorway, concentrating on her tablet screen.
“Yes, Corella?”
Without looking, she glided to the front of his desk. “I have an email you sent me yesterday. You need to clear part of your afternoon schedule one Thursday a month?”
Oh boy, Marcus. Simon scratched his head and swung his chair back and forth. “Yes, I’m going to be doing some pro-bono work for an organization in Harlem.”
Corella’s groomed brows drew close together as she looked up from her tablet.
“It’s important. I just need to switch my schedule around to accommodate leaving an hour early on some Thursdays.”
“Okay.” Corella returned her attention to the screen. “That can be arranged. What’s the name of the organization?”
Simon stood. He pulled out and searched his wallet. Retrieving Marcus’s card, he held it in front of himself and tilted his head.
“May I see the card?” Corella held out her hand. “I’d like to enter the information in your contacts.”
“Sure.” Simon smiled and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Corella slowly disappeared behind the closing office door.