The Thomas Brief

By Toni Mills

At 32, as one of the city's most eligible divorce attorney's at Bailey, Brooks, and Bailey law firm, Kenneth Thomas has all the right ingredients that make him the perfect man. He's tall, dark, handsome, intelligent, successful and can have any woman that he wants. But at his age he's made the decision that at this point in his life, it is time to settle down with the one woman whom he will potentially marry and start a family with. However, before he begins his journey of finding the right woman, Kenneth knows he must terminate his intimate relationship with Susan. Susan seems to be the ideal woman for him but there is one major dilemma. She is currently one of the firm's executive assistants and could possibly harm Kenneth's reputation and jeopardize his chances of becoming partner someday if their relationship carries on.

Through his eyes, follow this tantalizing case as Kenneth is trapped in a chess game of joy and turmoil when his efforts to end his lustful office romance takes a turn for the worst and interferes with his quest to find true love. Will Susan calmly back away from their affair or will she turn into the nightmare Kenneth never saw coming? For the first time, he will see what it's like to be on the opposite side of the witness stand as his unsightly dreams become his reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456725273

Toni Mills

Toni Mills better known as Antoinette M. is a writer/model/entrepreneur currently living in NY. This is her first novel which she began writing while attending Norfolk State University in Norfolk, VA, where she obtained a bachelor's degree in Mass Communications. Presently, she is the editor-in-chief of the online magazine for young entrepreneurs www.FBENOW.com as well as a contributing writer for African American Golfer's Digest. As a model, she has appeared on the Wendy Williams show in September 2010 and in the Fall 2010 issue of Jones Magazine.

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© 2011 Toni Mills. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/17/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-2526-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-2527-3 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

To Mr. Thomas

The Beginning

Drunk with anger, the sound of her voice stung the skin on my neck like alcohol spilled on an open wound. Kenneth! she bellowed my name. She was heated, and I could feel the burn. Although my back was turned and I couldn’t see her face, there was something about her voice that could be detected even if I was a blind man. I couldn’t believe she was back again following me. The shadows of her feet coordinated with my every step, fading into one.

What do you want? I called out to her. There was no answer. Hello? I said.

Suddenly she responded, Kenneth, can you just do me a favor and shut up! She was so loud that her voice shrieked in the back of her throat and irritatingly tickled at my eardrums. Her voice grew deep and left her sounding more like a crazed beast and far from the delicate flower that I used to know and who she used to be. Suddenly the weight of my skull felt light like I had been poisoned with a toxic substance. An array of fine bumps quickly bred against my body as the clicks of her heels accelerated towards me like a car speeding up a sharp hill. My heart began to beat uncontrollably fast, feeling like it was seconds from bursting out of my chest. I stopped walking and took a deep breath. Just as I was desperately trying to regain control of my mind and my body, the clicks grew louder, and her pace became slow. As I sluggishly gasped for air, I could strangely see a cloud of my breath before me, as if it were an icy winter day. But it was far from cold. It actually seemed as if the sun was following me, stabbing me with heat each time I moved. I wanted to see her face, so I slowly turned around, but the rays in the sky gradually grew wider and brighter, transcending into white light. I put my hand up to create shade, but everything just transcended into black. Turn back around! she yelled. Her voice unbearably sliced through my brain. Covering my head with my left hand, I instinctively reached for my sunglasses in my pocket, but I didn’t feel them. Unexpectedly, I heard what sounded like them fall to the ground. "Looking for these?" she asked.

How the hell did she get my sunglasses? I thought to myself. I distinctly remembered putting them in my right pocket. I began to feel a prickly, excruciating pain at the back of my head. It quickly surged down my spine and extended to the tip of my toes as fast as lightning, leaving a tingling sensation throughout my entire body. Though I couldn’t see anything, I could feel her presence grow closer to me. What is it? What do you want from me? I yelled at her.

Just shut up! she screamed powerfully.

Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you? I asked her.

Shut up! she said again.

No, I won’t! This is unnecessary. Why are you acting like this? I said ignoring her roaring voice.

Shut up! she yelled again.

You know, I’m really getting tired of living like this. You can’t keep following me!

I can do whatever I want! she replied.

Well, can you let me know when this is going to end? I said frustrated.

Right now! she quickly said to me. Within seconds, she erratically put her arm around my neck and pulled me towards her. Then she pressed a cold tool against my back, clenched her palm tight, and just like that it was over.

Chapter I

This is Kenneth Thomas, and in his words here is his brief.

My body jolted upwards like a launched rocket. There was darkness all around me as I woke up in a cold sweat. With my eyes bulging out of my head, my chest hastily moved up and down searching for air. My hands hurriedly stretched across my body, making sure I was still intact. I pursed my dry lips and swallowed hard. I looked over at the clock; it read 5:35 a.m. I slowly leaned backwards to lay back down, but my skin instantly met the top of my cold, wet sheets. My body shot back up, setting me in the upright position. The sun quietly peaked its way through the clouds. My mind immediately reflected into the dream (or rather, the nightmare) that I just had. This was the second time this week that I had this dream, and I couldn’t figure out why. I sat in a daze with my chin rested upon my knuckles, unable to unravel the meaning behind this reoccurring vision. It was like something out of a movie. Its airy and mind-boggling connotations left my mind racing and disarrayed. And what was even stranger was that, though I did have the same dream for the second time this week, it had never ended like that. I usually woke up at the point of the dream where I realize she has my sunglasses. I eventually brought myself to understand that it was just a dream and that entire scenario would never happen in real life. Well of course, not in my life. Right? I thought. I looked at the clock. I needed to start getting ready immediately. With all this thinking that I was doing, I was sitting at the edge of my bed wasting time. I would be late to the office if I didn’t get a move on it. Most of my clients were pretentious, nervous, or irritated, and there was nothing worse than having me as the tardy lawyer handling their case. I sluggishly stretched my arms up over my head and yawned very wide as I got out of bed. I guess if I was late, somehow I would find a way to charm my way around it. It was a dash of intellect, pinch of style, a bit of charisma, and a sprinkle of good spirit that makes me the appealing and delectable person that I am. I’m pretty fly, if I might say so myself—a catch, more like the ideal man. I’ve always been like this. For as long as I can recollect, I’ve always had to be and have been the best at whatever I did. If it was breaking barriers and being successful or getting that special girl to have a twinkle in her eye for me, I always got it. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t walk around conceited or egotistical as some have assumed I am, but I enjoy the successful instrument that my life plays. I know what it feels like to come a long way in the game of life and played it pretty well. Having the focus and discipline to make it was hard work. My father taught me everything I needed to know about being a strong and wise man. He always told me to never compromise for anyone or anything, to always take care of my responsibilities no matter what they are and to always look behind both shoulders. He was a cool guy who also had everything in order without raising his voice at anyone. People respected him, and I respected that. Growing up, my mother was the one that was very hard on my brother and me. She fought to keep us in line and was determined that we’d make something of ourselves no matter the circumstances. She cut no corners when it came to telling it like it is and making sure you followed what she said.

Keep ya head in ya books and off di streets young bwoy, she would say in Patio from time to time when I misbehaved. I always admired the thought-provoking advice she gave me to handle life’s challenges. Both of my parents equally instilled in me that no matter whom or what may try to dishevel and bring me down, I should always look at it as one of life’s tests. Only the strong survive, they would say. My mother was not only an intellectual driving force in my life, but she gave me a sense of style and the swag that I possess. See no matter how strict or mean some of my friends may have thought she was my mother was a more than an awesome lady. She was sort of like the Mahogany of the islands with a fiery New York attitude. She loved fashion and dressed very chic, always keeping herself well-maintained from head to toe. My father used to tell me that when they first met in high school, all the guys wanted a date with her, and he got into a few scuffles because of her. I could believe it because she was still stopping traffic today with her exotic features and trendy, yet classic elegance. And I know exactly where she got it from. Her name was Miss Phyllis Marie Clarke; my maternal grandmother was an enchanting woman. There was none quite like her; she was one of God’s angels. I have to admit that of the many strikingly beautiful women that have crossed my path, none compared to my Granny Phyllis. And I am not just saying that because she is family but it’s because it’s the truth. Now I’m not sure if it was her wise mind or merely her warm heart that intrigued me so much, but I was just always in awe every time I had the privilege of being in her presence. She possessed beauty inside and out, and it continued decades after her fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth birthday. She became the reason that I knew what the word flawless meant. Her saucer shaped eyes had an unusual, dark gray tint, bordered with long separated lashes that curled at the tip. Each time I looked into them, I was instantly engrossed in her knowledge and morals without her saying a single word. Her wrinkle-free, coco-butter complexion was dusted with a natural golden sheen that highlighted her high cheekbones and petite nose. Granny’s long, shiny, gray hair draped half her body, almost falling to her thighs. She always wore it in a carefully orchestrated bun that took a few times to wrap so it was just right. The gentle Caribbean breeze that brushed across her skin daily kept her looking fresh and rejuvenated. Along with raising the nine children that she birthed, she turned a natural knack for sewing into branding herself as one of the town’s most sought-out seamstress. Ms. Phyllis, as they all addressed her, always masked herself and the townspeople with effortless stitching that was precise and crisp. People used to walk from near and far for their threads to be tailored or to have something they saw custom-made by her. They trusted her fashion intuition because her own clothing looked as good as the ones she made. Not a scuff or a scratch lay on any of her shoes because she took care of her things and knew how to preserve the oldest things and make them look new. I will always remember her telling me, No matter how much money you make or how prestigious you are, never be frivolous or foolish with others and your success. She instilled these theories in her children and all twelve of her grandchildren. For some reason, though she gave us all the same teachings, I think I was the only one that listened to every word she said. She passed away after five long devastating years of Alzheimer’s. I was about fourteen when it happened, and I took it hard. There was something powerful about the relationship between a grandparent and a grandchild, and I had the pleasure of experiencing that relationship. Strangely, now that I think about it, a couple of months after she passed away is when I began to have a strong interest in girls.

For me, the summer before junior high school was great for me. And when I actually got to junior high school, it just became my haven for meeting all kinds of women. It was there that I realized women were the most beautiful beings that graced the earth, and I wanted to get my hands on as many as I could. It was just something about them that set me into a trance. If I liked a girl, I had to have her. The end of my junior and senior year of high school was the platform for my fascination and victory with females. I mean, I’m not going to lie—things started out a little rough; there were moments of rejections here and there. It took a while for me to get the hang of it but contrary to what my friends thought at that age, girls were a lot smarter than we thought. But after I stopped listening to my clueless, knuckle head friends (who knew less than I did about the female species), things began to work out. I realized that if I just ‘be myself’, they would come to me.