The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque)

by Byrd, Adrianne

  Chelsea looked physically ill. “I’m out of here.”

  “Whoa. Where’s the fire?” Willy puffed up his chest as his twinkling gaze soaked in her profile. “I see you still don’t have a ring around that finger. You know I could change all of that.” He winked.

  “Not if you were the last Negro—”

  “Chelsea,” Solomon sliced into the conversation. “That will be all.”

  Undaunted, Willy’s smile only grew wider. “I like them feisty.”

  “I guess that explains why you hooked up with Nora Gibson,” she added.

  “Jealous?” He spread out his arms. “If you like what you see, fight for it, baby.”

  Chelsea gave him the universal brick wall sign and headed for the door. “I’m out of here. It’s five o’clock, and I don’t do overtime.”

  “I’ll make a note of that in your next evaluation.” Solomon beamed a smile at her, and it had the same effect as if he’d done so in the face of a starving tiger.

  “You’re not funny,” she sassed and turned on her heels.

  “C’mon and drop it like it’s hot one time for me.” Willy chuckled.

  She rolled her eyes and kept moving.

  Willy blew a kiss at her back, and then released a hearty laugh when the door slammed closed behind her.

  “Why do you insist on pissing her off?”

  “Cuz I can.” He winked again and then made himself comfortable in the chair in front of Solomon’s desk. “I see you’re feeling better. Didn’t I tell you there’s nothing like a house full of women backing it up to put a smile on your face?”

  Solomon had to laugh. “Well, it must have worked,” he said, unwilling to rain on his uncle’s parade.

  “Good, good. I was afraid that Selma chick had ruined things for you. Who is she, anyway?”

  “Just a good friend of mine. We’ve known each other for about seven years now. She’s an entertainment lawyer and represents a few of our groups.”

  “Humph. She acts more like your wife by the way she was bossin’ everyone out of there.”

  Solomon laughed at the direction their conversation had taken. “She’s somebody’s wife, just not mine.” He could tell his uncle’s interest had been piqued by the way he stroked his chin.

  “Married, huh? Well, she’s still an attractive woman—little meat on her bones, but I can give her a good workout.”

  “Do you ever turn that off?”

  “What do you mean?” Willy asked.

  “Everything leads to sexual innuendo with you. Do you ever think of anything else?”

  “Money. But I have plenty of that, too.” His laugh filled the room. “Come on, relax. I just like to have a good time.”

  “All the time?”

  “Life is short, nephew. You should know that better than anyone.”

  The reference to Solomon’s father wasn’t hard to make. Solomon would be lying if he didn’t admit a fear of dying like his father had, at the age of forty-nine.

  “I have a couple of eager beavers lined up tonight. What do you say? I told them all about you.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I already have plans.” Not to mention he was starting to be a little creeped out that his uncle was finding him dates.

  “Cancel them.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Can’t means ‘I don’t want to.’”

  “Fine. I don’t want to. I’m taking Selma over to Ophelia’s tonight.”

  Willy appeared speechless for a moment—a rare occurrence. “Why, you sly dog,” he thundered. “Creeping with a married woman. I knew you had it in you. We are related, after all.”

  “No, no. It’s—”

  “Hey, hey. You don’t have to explain nothing to me. I’m a slick cat from way back. ’Tween you and me, there ain’t nothing like a married woman. Am I right?”

  Solomon frowned. “Please tell me you’re neutered.”

  Willy just laughed and reached inside his jacket for his trademark Cuban cigars.

  “No smoking in here.”

  Willy ignored him and lit up. “You can make an exception for your favorite uncle, can’t you?” Willy puffed out a small cloud.

  Solomon squashed his annoyance.

  “Great.” His uncle’s attention advanced to one of the silver-framed photographs nestled on the corner of his desk. “Ah, check her out,” he said, ogling Ophelia. “I never did understand why you didn’t get with this pretty filly. Everyone knows you two have a thang for each other.”

  “What?” Solomon’s eyes rounded. He’d never told Willy anything about his feelings toward his best friend—mainly because his uncle had a big mouth.

  “C’mon. I might be getting old, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”

  Solomon suddenly glanced at his watch. “Hey, look at the time. I guess I better get going.”

  “Oh, what’s your hurry?”

  Standing, Solomon reached for his jacket from the corner hook and quickly slid his arms through the sleeves. “I have dinner plans, remember?”

  “Ah, I must have touched a nerve.”

  “No, I just don’t want to be late.”

  “Uh-huh.” Willy didn’t attempt to get up, nor did he place the picture back down on the desk. “I know this question is a little late, but who was the chick you were trying to drink out of your system the past couple of weeks?” He met Solomon’s gaze. “And try to be honest.”

  Solomon held on to his stiff smile and headed out. “I’ll never tell, old man.” He pulled open the door and was surprised to see Selma.

  “Oh.” She smiled. “Perfect timing.”

  “Ah, if it isn’t the old ball and chain,” Willy said, finally setting the picture down and pushing his way out of the chair. “I’m surprised I recognized you without a Black & Decker in your hand.”

  “And you without a group of porno star rejects.”

  “Sassy.” He winked at Solomon. “I can see the attraction.”

  “I’ll catch you later, Uncle Willy.”

  “Fine by me. I’ll give you two some privacy.” He winked again. “We’ll talk later.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Solomon replied.

  “You know, Selma, you should come to one of my parties some time.”

  “And hang out while you liquor up underage hoochies?”

  “Hey, everyone knows my motto—you have to be eighteen to come, but twenty-one to swallow.”

  Solomon groaned. “And on that note, we’ll be seeing you, uncle.”

  Selma managed to keep it together until the door finally closed. “That man is off the chain. How on earth do you put up with him?”

  “He grows on you.”

  “Yeah…like fungus.” She chuckled, and quickly changed the subject. “I decided where you’re taking me for dinner.”

  “Uh, about that.”

  Selma moaned and dropped her head back. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out.”

  “No, no. We’re still going to dinner…but there are a few things you need to know first.”

  * * *

  An angry Jonas paced outside the bathroom door. “I can’t believe you invited him to dinner,” he barked.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Ophelia responded nonchalantly.

  “Of course you don’t,” he mumbled, but then he shouted back through the door. “I, kind of, had a romantic evening planned for just the two of us.” He paused and shook his head. “I mean, can’t you call him and cancel?”

  The door opened and Ophelia stepped out, wearing a red dress that lovingly hugged her curves. Jonas’s jaw slacked as suspicion crawled around the back of his brain.

  “Don’t be silly.” Ophelia tilted her head to slide on a pair of earrings. “I can’t cancel now. They’re probably on the way over.”

  “Why are you wearing that?” He paused. “Did you say they?”

  She dropped her gaze to her dress. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

  “You said they,” he repea
ted.

  Looking back up, Ophelia frowned, and then walked over to the dresser mirror. “Solomon is bringing his girlfriend.” She twirled around and examined every angle. “You don’t like this dress?”

  Jonas blinked and stilled his excitement until he made sure he understood what he’d heard. “Solomon has a girlfriend?”

  She faced him again with a look of incredulity. “And why wouldn’t he have a girlfriend? He’s a handsome, charming, and successful man. I’m sure he has plenty of women begging for his attention.”

  “Okay. That was a little more than I asked for.” He folded his arms and ignored the crawling sensation in the back of his head. “I’m just surprised. You never mentioned he had a girlfriend.” Was I wrong about this guy?

  “Well,” she said, turning toward the mirror again, “I guess it’s because I just found out today. Course, I was also the last to know about Marcel getting married. But, hey, I’m not complaining.” She inspected her figure again and flapped her arms down at her side. “You’re right, this dress makes my butt look too big. I’m going to change.”

  Jonas frowned. “I didn’t say—”

  “Oh, I know. I can wear that bright blue number you liked.”

  Remembering the ring in his pocket, he nodded with a crooked smile. “Yes, I love blue on you.”

  “Humph. You’re about the only one. My mom says it does nothing for me.”

  “You don’t like blue?”

  “Oh, what about that fuchsia Chanel dress I bought yesterday? Solomon always said I looked good in that color.”

  “Did he now?” Jonas jammed his hands into his pockets to hide how they had curled in irritation.

  Ophelia pulled the dress off the rack and showed it to him. “What do you think?”

  “I hate purple.”

  “It’s fuchsia.”

  “It’s purple.”

  The sound of the doorbell jingling throughout the house halted his next words, which would’ve surely led to an argument.

  “They’re here.” Ophelia fretted and turned back to her rack of clothes. “Go ahead and greet them,” she instructed, seeming unaware of his rising anger. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  The bell rang again.

  “Honey.” Ophelia turned and blew him a kiss. “Now, go. Go. Go.”

  Amazingly, the airborne kiss was enough to cool his temper. Besides, he no longer had to worry. Solomon was coming to dinner with his girlfriend. Girlfriend.

  He exited the bedroom with a sudden spring to his step. As he crossed through the living room, he heard the low hum of voices in the foyer. He rounded the corner just as Benton, his butler, accepted the couple’s jackets.

  “Good evening,” Jonas greeted him with outstretched arms, but his gaze immediately sought the ebony beauty at Solomon’s side.

  “Good evening,” they replied.

  “I can’t tell you how much of a pleasure it is to meet you…?”

  “Selma,” she supplied her name, and then displayed two rows of pearly white teeth.

  “Selma,” he repeated, taking her hand and brushing a brief kiss along her knuckles. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jonas Hinton.”

  She blinked. “Not Jonas Hinton, as in the new owner of the Carolina Panthers?”

  Jonas’s smile widened. “Guilty.”

  “Wow. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze swept her surroundings. “You have a nice place. It’s so big and…clean.”

  Solomon’s gaze narrowed.

  “What?” she asked.

  At the sound of heels clicking across the floor, everyone turned.

  Solomon sucked in a breath at the sight of Ophelia, resplendent in a fuchsia dress that hugged her voluptuous curves like a second layer of skin. His heart thumped wildly as a warm heat radiated throughout his body.

  “Purple,” Jonas said. He slid an arm around her small waist, and then leaned over to plant a kiss against her offered cheek. “Interesting choice.”

  An instant ache throbbed where Solomon’s heart once resided. How in the hell was he going to get through this night?

  Chapter 9

  “You must be Selma.” Ophelia stretched out her hand, while struggling to maintain a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Nice to finally meet you.” A smile fluttered weakly on Selma’s lips.

  It took less than a nanosecond for Ophelia to size up Selma and note that although this married woman was attractive, Ophelia wouldn’t have figured her to be Solomon’s type—not that he had a type.

  Releasing Selma’s hand, Ophelia took note of the large diamond on the woman’s finger. “Well, tonight’s menu is Italian.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Solomon and Jonas chuckled in unison. Their gazes cut toward one another and all amusement faded.

  “As you can tell, these two know Italian is my favorite,” Ophelia informed Selma.

  “And my chef is the master,” Jonas added. “You’ll love him.”

  “I, uh—” Selma glanced at Solomon “—don’t normally like Italian, but, uh, sure, why not?”

  Ophelia’s smile tightened as her brain scrambled to figure out how to fix the situation. “I can get Raul to prepare something else, if you’d like?”

  “No, no.” Selma reached for her hands. “It’s all right. I’m sure whatever you have prepared will be fine.”

  “Oh, you’re engaged?” Jonas’s attention lowered to the ring, and then to the band beneath it.

  At his frown, Ophelia tugged him on the arm. “Honey, why don’t we see if Raul can rustle something else up on short notice?”

  Selma opened her mouth.

  “It’s not a problem,” Ophelia said, cutting her off and still tugging on her fiancé. “Why don’t you two just make yourself comfortable in the living room? We’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  At their host and hostess’s sudden disappearance, Solomon and Selma glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

  “I guess she hasn’t told him,” Selma snickered, wiping at a stray tear.

  “I think that’s a safe assumption.” He led her toward the first room adjacent to the foyer, and then leaned close to her ear. “Again, thanks for doing this for me.”

  “Yeah, the things I do for a free meal.” She stopped in the center of the living room and took her time looking around. “Will you just check this place out? It’s beautiful.”

  Solomon shrugged, unimpressed. “My place is just as nice.”

  “Maybe.” She waltzed around and studied a few of the knickknacks. “You know, I fail to see what you hope to accomplish by letting Ophelia think you’re dating a married woman. Not that I’m not flattered.”

  “I told you. I choked—I wasn’t thinking. Besides, she was just seconds away from pushing one of her girlfriends on me.”

  “You know, I don’t get it. You’re a very handsome man. Surely you don’t need friends and a perverted uncle to find you a date. I mean, look at your office—that place is crawling with single women.”

  “Never mix business with pleasure. I learned that one from Marcel.”

  “The same Marcel that just married his secretary?”

  Solomon cleared his throat. “Yeah, that one.”

  Selma rolled her eyes. “You need to just tell her how you feel. There, I said it.”

  “Again.”

  “Yes—again. Your problem is that you don’t know how to take sound advice. It’s no sweat off my nose if you allow the love of your life to walk out the door. I have my knight in shining armor waiting for me back home in New York.”

  “Yeah. Just wait until he hears that you’re cheating on him with me,” he joked.

  “If anything, he’ll have a good laugh.” Her eyes rested on a picture of Jonas accepting an award of some kind. “I tell you what, this guy is pretty easy on the eyes. Those two will make some pretty babies, that’s for sure.”

  Solomon’s chest tightened.

  “What is it?” Selma rushed to him.

  “I-it’s nothi
ng.” He massaged his chest.

  Selma’s maternal instincts kicked in, and she quickly placed a hand over his forehead to check his temperature.

  “I’m fine, Selma.” He removed her hand and then placed his hands around her waist to physically move her away from him.