A rush of air brushed the side of Marcus’s face. Adam blasted past him and smashed his helmet against the guy’s head. “You like that, huh? You, racist asshole.” He tossed the headgear and balled his fists. Marcus shook his head at Simon. Adam was not one to let a good brawl go to waste, especially one where he got to pummel a bunch of bigots. It was his hobby of sorts.
Two more preppie hooligans charged at Adam. A stranger sprang out of nowhere, taking one of them down with a kick to the gut and an elbow strike while Adam decked the other. Fists clenched, he looked over at his new comrade. A street lamp shone on half of the tan man’s smug smirk that reached up to his angular eyes. “Yeah,” Adam stretched his neck from side to side and puffed his chest, “let’s do this.” Marcus, Simon and Brandon joined the affray.
It was time to take on hate.
3-Precinct
“You can sit over there with the rest of your gang.” The stubby policeman shoved Faisal in the direction of a row of chairs. He leaned his muscular frame against the wall and poked at his swollen eye. Pain shot from the cut on his lid straight to the back of his head. The stark light blaring down from the police station ceiling only made it worse. I can’t believe they got in a punch. I need to find a ring out here. He gazed down at the seats filled with three of the five men who came to his aid—despite him being a stranger.
He didn’t know anybody at the college. The encounter between him and some of his schoolmates/future clan leaders was the first “welcome” he got since transferring to Boston College less than a week ago to get from under his father’s thumb. When they ambushed him on his way to dinner, Faisal was prepared to take them all down, or at least as many as he could. It felt damn good that he didn’t have to do it alone. “Thanks,” he nodded at the men nursing various scrapes and bruises, “I appreciate you guys havin’ my back.”
The Black man who first stepped in flexed his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. They needed to be taught a lesson.” Faisal grinned at the familiar Long Island resonance in his deep voice.
The Asian man in the next seat messaged his square jaw. “Yeah.” He patted the Black man on the back. “Marc and I know how to handle their kind.” Faisal accepted his hand. “I’m Simon.”
“I’m Faisal Khan.” There was no mistaking the Queens accent either. Not only were they stand-up guys but fellow New Yorkers too.
All their gazes pivoted to the dude in the dress shirt and slacks that exhibited some serious martial arts skills earlier that night. He glanced up from cleaning his blood-encrusted nails and raised his brows over angular eyes. “I’m Quinn Ang.”
Simon smiled. “I think we take the same civil procedures course. Thanks for helping out, man.”
Quinn crossed his legs and smoothed his hand over his torn trousers. “Of course. I was getting in my car and heard “racist asshole,” he scraped at more blood on his pants, “so, I figured there was work to be done.” The desk sergeant grimaced at the row of banged up men laughing their heads off.
Brandon and Adam emerged from the office at the back of the precinct followed by the sergeant in a coffee-stained shirt and tie. “Let’s go.” Brandon waved at them and strode towards the exit.
“What,” Faisal pushed of off the wall, “all of us?”
“Yes.” Brandon stopped, his gaze followed Adam strutting past him. “Adam called his dad, who contacted his friend—the Mayor, so yeah, everyone.”
“You shoulda let me call him earlier.” Adam strode into the hallway, raising his voice the further away he got from them. “We would’ve been home by now.”
“You shouldn’t have to call your father to pull strings.” Brandon followed. “We didn’t commit any crime.”
“We attacked them.”
“No, we were defending,” Brandon looked over his shoulder, “what’s your name, again?”
Faisal joined them in the hall. This looked like it was about to get ugly. “Faisal.”
“We were defending Faisal.”
“Okay, Brandon. We were in the right, and when has that ever helped anyone? Look around,” Adam spun with his palms up, “where are those goons that started all of this trouble? Gone, ‘cause the cops let their White asses out hours ago. Look, I’m the spoiled son of a rich White man. So, I used my privilege like those little punks, but instead of just myself, I got my friends off too,” he crossed his arms over his bulky chest, parts of it exposed at the tears of his shirt, “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
Marcus stepped between the bickering buddies and pulled Adam by the arm. “I suggest we settle this after we’ve gotten the hell outta here.”
4-Diner
Simon squinted and held his hand over his eyes like a visor. He descended the precinct steps, deleting yet another one of multiple incessant messages sent by a very irritated half-naked female. Way too needy. I’m glad I didn’t hit that. He scrolled through his contacts for the names of woman who would be just as willing but not so clingy.
“Yo, Simon.” Marcus jogged down the stairs with the rest of the fearsome warriors in tow. “Faisal, offered to buy us breakfast.”
Faisal fluffed his hair flip. “It’s the least I could do. Besides, I didn’t get to eat last night because of those jerks.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Quinn pulled his sleeve cuff and stopped next to Faisal.
Simon shoved his phone in his pocket and rubbed his growling belly. “I can eat.” He glanced at Brandon and Adam, slipping scowls to each other. “We can continue The Great Debate.” He had similar arguments with Marcus as well as other hard conversations about racism and the law. Learning how to listen to each other made a big difference in preserving their friendship. Adam clearly didn’t appreciate Brandon’s perspective.
“I know where there’s a decent diner not too far from here.” Quinn led the group down the busy Boston street.
The tall, fair-haired waitress stopped on her way to the kitchen and suspended the coffee pot in the air, gawking at the diverse crew of gorgeous men swaggering into the diner—none of them the worse for wear after a night in a police precinct. They filled a table and commenced with their morning meal. Lethargy didn’t dull any of the deep and witty conversation during breakfast.
“You need to understand where Brandon is coming from, Adam.” Marcus poked a mound of eggs. ‘Sure, your Kane connections got us out, but there are so many People of Color steamrolled by a racist justice system—Blacks get it especially bad.”
“I know.” Adam’s massive hand dwarfed the coffee cup he put to his lips.
“Then you realize that you were successful in getting just the six of us off, which is not enough.” Simon chimed in and dragged his gaze up a white woman at the counter smiling at him and twirling a lock of her long red hair. He smiled back. She descended her stool and sashayed towards them on a pair of long legs in tight jeans. He pulled out a business card, rested his elbow on the table and held it in the air. “Brandon is fighting for people without money or connections and whose race is often a big deficit.” She took it and continued towards the exit. He watched her hips sway away. Things were looking up.
Marcus rolled his eyes.
Adam smirked and glanced at Brandon. “I don’t know about all of that, Simon. My father is one of Brandon’s biggest clients.”
“Yeah,” Brandon shoved a triangle of toast in his mouth and washed it down with coffee. “He hired me to babysit you, but that’s not all I do. I’m working with groups to get people real justice.”
“I see nothing wrong in doing both.” Quinn motioned for the server and pointed to his plate. “I’m sorry, but this steak is not rare enough.” The simultaneous eyebrow raising by everyone staring at the red blood oozing from the hunk of meat that barely had grill marks confirmed that it was.
“I’ll get you another, sir.” She continued to look back at Quinn as she headed towards the kitchen. What was the deal with him?
“That thing is going to be mooing when she brings it.” A chorus of gu
ffaws joined Marcus’s and resonated off the chrome and Formica. The men finished their conversations and breakfasts.
They parted, agreeing to a basketball game the next day. By the end of the week, the Brothers in Law solidified their friendships for life.
Sweet Love, Bitter Fruit
Thank you for reading the Brothers in Law Short Story. Be on the look out for Sweet Love, Bitter Fruit - Book 2
Enjoy this excerpt from Sweet Love, Bitter Fruit
Marcus sipped some cold coffee from a mug. “You said you cleared your schedule. What are you doing with the rest of your afternoon?”
Toni shifted in her seat. “Well, I have an appointment with Dr. Algiers.” She jumped at the sound of the ceramic cup hitting the hard wood. “Marc.”
“So that’s what this little lunch visit is about?” He plopped the rest of the burger on the open wrapper. “What do you need?”
“I was hoping you would come with me. We can talk some more on the way there.”
He wiped the coffee off his hand and desk with a napkin. “I’ve said all I’m going to about this.”
Toni raised and leaned across the desk. “Well, I haven’t. I’m ready to start treatments.”
“You do what you want, but I’m not signing on for another fertility sideshow.”
It was his turn. Marcus ducked and jumped at the crash of the stapler through the window. Sounds of the city seeped through the hole. “What the hell, Toni?”
My Published Short Stories
Available on Amazon Kindle
Available on Amazon Kindle
An Ode to Simon and Regina
The most amazing thing!
I'm honored that my writing inspired the phenomenal poet ALKEBULAUN to create a beautiful poem as an ode to interracial love.
In My Way to You: An Ode to Simon and Regina, Simon proclaims to Regina that he doesn’t care about what people think and will do whatever it takes to be with her.
As a special thank you, enjoy a reading of this heart-warming and inspiring poetry from the poet himself!
Click here. Contains musical background.
About Lyndell Williams
Lyndell Williams (Layla Abdullah-Poulos) has a B.A. in Historical Studies and Literature, M.A. in Liberal Studies, and an AC in Women and Gender Studies. She presently teaches history as an adjunct instructor.
Williams a cultural critic with a background in literary criticism specializing in romance. She is the managing editor of the NbA Muslims blog on Patheos, a cultural contributor for Radio Islam USA and a writer for About Islam.
She received 2017 The Francis Award from The International Association for the Study of Popular Romance (IASPR). Her peer-reviewed journal article The Stable Muslim Love Triangle – Triangular Desire in African American Muslim Romance Fiction was published in the Journal of Popular Romance Studies November 2018.
Lyndell has contributed to multiple anthologies interracial short story collections, including - Saffron: A Collection of Personal Narratives by Muslim Women, Shades of AMBW and Shades of BWWM.
My Way to You (Brothers in Law Book 1) Page 30
