The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque) Read Online Free Page B

from the undergarment. “Something tells me I need to spray this place down before I touch anything.”
“Whatever.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
Tsking and shaking her head, Selma inched farther into the room while her gaze darted around. Everything was covered in confetti, stringy things, beer cans, and plastic cups. “It must have been one hell of a party.” From the corner of Selma’s eyes, she noticed what looked like two bullet holes in the wall. “Please don’t tell me your uncle Willy threw this party.”
Solomon shrugged. “He was trying to cheer me up.”
“I see it worked wonders.” She sucked in an exasperated breath and tried to venture farther into the living room. “How long has this place been like this?” The moment she asked the question, Selma caught sight of Brandy eating leftover cake from off the coffee table. “Brandy, no!” She stepped over piles of only God knows what to shoo away the Doberman.
“Solomon, you can’t let the dog eat this kind of stuff.” She gathered up paper plates.
“Oh, it’s not going to kill her,” he grumbled.
“Maybe not, but Marcel will kill you if anything happens to his dog.” She turned sharply and grumbled the whole way to the kitchen, where more chaos loomed. The very thought of the kinds of germs lurking in the piles of dishes and strewn beer cans had Selma bolting from the room like an Olympian.
Returning to the living room, she was more than ready to give her friend a dose of tough love, but his pain-filled voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Selma, I really screwed things up.”
Ophelia. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to draw. “So how are you going to fix it?” she asked, unwilling to participate in a pity party.
Solomon didn’t answer, but instead stared up at the cathedral ceilings as if waiting for a sign from above.
She jumped at the unexpected sound of giggling. In the next second, two scantily clad model types sauntered into the room. Selma immediately sucked in the small pouch around her waist and frowned at her physical opposites. “Sol, baby, Willy wants to know if you’re coming back out to the pool?”
“He’s busy,” Selma snapped.
The women’s gazes jumped to hers and then performed a slow drag over her attire. As if concluding that she wasn’t a threat, sly smiles curled their lips.
“Hey, you’re more than welcome to come out and join us if you want,” one of them offered, undoubtedly knowing that she wouldn’t.
“ I’m busy, too.”
“Tell my uncle I’ll be out later,” Solomon said. His gaze was still glued to the ceiling.
“Whatever you say, Sol, baby.”
“Please stop calling me that,” he said. “I hate that name.”
The women shrugged and gave Selma a final once-over before they turned, with most of their butt cheeks hanging out, and walked out.
Selma rolled her eyes and marched to one of the large windows. She pushed aside a long curtain panel and glanced out. The pool, about fifty yards from the main house, was crawling with half-dressed women.
“So this is how you’re planning to get over Ophelia—surrounding yourself with a bunch of chickenheads?”
“It worked for the first twenty-four hours,” he confessed.
She turned away from the window to see he still hadn’t moved. ‘So what’s plan B?”
“Die of a broken heart, I guess.” He huffed out a breath. “It seems to be working.”
Her frown deepened as she stared at him. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone more pathetic.”
He dropped his head again and puffed out a long breath. “That’s nice to know.” He shook his head. “When she told me, I couldn’t say anything,” he said. “I just stood there.”
“It was bound to happen,” Selma said as gently as she could. However, her words just seemed to crush Solomon.
The phone rang. Solomon glanced over at the silver and black cordless.
“I’ll get it.” She rolled her eyes.
“It’s her. Let the answering machine pick it up.”
“How do you know it’s her? It