The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque)

by Byrd, Adrianne

  “So are you mad at him or Ophelia?”

  “Both,” he snapped.

  Diana rubbed his back to encourage him to calm down. “I haven’t known them as long as you have, but maybe there’s something more going on than we know. Ophelia seems to be like a very practical woman.”

  “Too practical for her own good, if you ask me.”

  “Maybe we need to face up to the fact that maybe she’s really in love with Jonas…and that Solomon has missed his chance.”

  Marcel was silent for a long time before he said, “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

  * * *

  Solomon had a difficult time paying attention in his meeting. He wasn’t even sure what the damn thing was about. His thoughts were preoccupied with the wedding invitation that was accidentally mailed to him.

  Or maybe it was a peace offering.

  Either way, he had no intention of attending.

  It had been three months since he’d last seen or spoken to Ophelia. Three months since he had constructed the perfect wall around his heart. However, the invitation delivered a serious blow and even managed to cause serious damage.

  For the millionth time, he reviewed the morning she appeared at his place. She had started to tell him something but was interrupted. Wondering what that something was had become an obsession.

  The way she stormed out, however, left a sour taste in his mouth. A part of him wanted to chase after her; the other part was tired of it. She had made her choice and, come hell or high water, he was going to honor it.

  When the meeting adjourned, he managed to flash the drifting employees a plastic smile; but he remained rooted in his chair long after everyone had left. Leaning back, he swiveled toward the large, wall-length windows to stare out at the city landscape.

  He needed a change.

  After the thought drifted across his mind, he nearly laughed out loud. Wasn’t that the same thing Marcel spouted shortly before he fell in love and got married?

  Maybe that’s what he needed—to find a nice girl and settle down. It seemed to have worked wonders for Marcel. The man was positively glowing and cracking jokes at every possible turn. Quite frankly, it was starting to get on Solomon’s nerves.

  Then there was the possibility of transferring to T & B’s New York office. There was no longer any point of both him and Marcel working out of Atlanta.

  The more Solomon thought about it, the more he liked the idea. A change—that was exactly what he needed.

  The conference room’s door bolted open, and Marcel poked his head inside. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you. Your uncle’s here, stirrin’ up trouble. Can you handle it before we get slammed with sexual harassment suits?”

  Solomon groaned, propped his elbows up on the table, and buried his face in his hand. “Lord, please, not today.”

  “Well, I can always call security,” Marcel joked.

  Moaning, Solomon pushed himself out of his chair. “As tempting as that offer may be, I have a feeling that I’d never live it down.”

  “That makes two of us.” Marcel stared at Solomon as he approached the door. “You all right, man?”

  “Never better,” Solomon lied, but he was forced to stop in his tracks when his friend blocked the exit.

  Marcel slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Not to get all mushy on you or anything—”

  “Then don’t,” Solomon huffed, meeting his friend’s level gaze.

  If his buddy was put off or surprised by his surliness, Marcel didn’t show it, nor did he step away from the door. “You know, Diana and I have invited Jonas and Ophelia over for dinner. Why don’t you stop by? We’d love to have you.”

  Solomon laughed. “Nice try, but I’ll pass.”

  “How long are you two going to keep this up? It’s ridiculous.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Solomon squared his shoulders. “I really do appreciate the concern, but it’s not necessary. I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”

  Gazes still locked, Marcel nodded, and then finally stepped aside.

  Solomon crossed the threshold and stopped again. “I’m thinking about moving to our offices in New York.” He shrugged with a casualness he didn’t feel. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  This time, Marcel blinked in surprise. “We’ll certainly miss you around here. But if you gotta go, you gotta go. I understand.”

  Solomon met his gaze again, nodded, and then strolled off. Minutes later, a woman’s hysterical scream pierced his eardrum, and he raced to find out what was happening. What he found was the makings of World War III.

  “You bastard! I’m going to kill you,” Nora Gibson screeched, struggling to reach his Uncle Willy.

  Luckily, there were six other women fighting equally hard to keep her back.

  “I was still going to call,” Willy said, shrugging and smirking. “I’ve just been tied up…literally.”

  Just great. Solomon moaned and approached the scene with a rising furor. “Ms. Gibson, get a hold of yourself,” he thundered.

  Everyone froze.

  Nora’s angry glare landed on him, but quickly cooled when Solomon gave one of his own.

  “Now what the hell is going on here?” he asked the circle of employees.

  Uncle Willy stepped forward with a cocksure grin and his chest puffed up. “Oh, it nothing, li’l nephew.” He slid his arm around Nora’s waist and squeezed her close. “It’s just a little lover’s spat.” He winked and unfortunately didn’t see that right hook Nora sent his way.

  The women gasped, Willy went down for the count, and Nora stormed off, mumbling, “Selfish bastard!”

  All in all, it was the highlight of Solomon’s day.

  The security guards came and helped prop Willy on the couch in Solomon’s office. Chelsea was kind enough to make an ice pack for his eye, and Solomon made him a drink.

  “Ooh, that’s going to leave a mark,” Chelsea said while inspecting Nora’s work.

  “Hey, you don’t need an excuse to get close to me.” Willy smiled and slapped his knees. “Just pop a squat, sweetheart. I’ll take you on a ride you’ll never forget.”

  Chelsea dropped the ice pack back on his eye and smiled when he yelped in pain. “Keep it up, and I’ll blacken the other one for you.”

  Willy’s boisterous laugh followed her out of the room.

  Solomon sighed and shook his head as he sat behind his desk. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Uncle Willy, but I’m going to have to ask you to not come by the office anymore.”

  “Aw, come on. That was nothing.” Willy chuckled, reaching into his pocket and removing a cigar.

  “This is a place of business not the W.W.E.” Solomon eased back in his chair and folded his arms. “You’re loud and obnoxious—”

  “I’ve never claimed to be an angel—”

  “You offend the female staff—”

  “Oh, they love me. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.” He stuck the cigar in his mouth.

  “Don’t smoke in here.”

  “Hey, a buddy of mine is throwing a party next weekend. You wanna come?” He lit the cigar.

  Solomon’s eyes narrowed as he pushed out of his chair and walked around the desk. “I said, no smoking.” He removed the cigar from his uncle’s mouth and dropped it into Willy’s drink.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey, yourself, old man,” he snapped back, and then drew a deep breath. “How do you do it?”

  Willy set his ruined drink down on a nearby table. “How do I do what?”

  “Just breeze through life, going from one party after another—drifting from one woman to another.” Solomon tossed up his hands. “I mean, what is that? Is this fun for you? Tell me, because I must be missing something. Boxing, stabbings, shootings—aren’t you getting a little too old for this crap?”

  Willy looked at him like he’d never seen him before.

  As the silence thickened, Solomon, too, began to see cracks in his uncle’s
happy mask. Sadness dulled his eyes, and signs of weariness surfaced from nowhere.

  “Not everyone has what you have,” his uncle said dully. “Or should I say, what you could’ve had?”

  Solomon thrust up his chin.

  “I, unfortunately, never ran across a soul mate. And believe it or not, I’ve looked for her from time to time.” He chuckled and then drew a long breath. “Now, my brother—your father, on the other hand, was just like you. When he was eight, he fell in love with a cute little girl next door to us. The entire family used to laugh at how he would follow this girl around like a long lost puppy. He’d carry her books to school, create homemade valentine cards, and taken her to every school dance. This continued through junior high and high school. They were inseparable.”

  Enthralled, Solomon leaned back against his desk and asked, “What happened?”

  Willy shrugged. “When he turned eighteen, he enlisted in the army and married her.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yep. Your mother. He was the luckiest sonofabitch I ever knew. That is, until you came along.” Willy met Solomon’s gaze. “Course, we know you story is going to turn out a little bit different, don’t we?”

  Solomon’s chest tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Willy stood up, handed over his ice pack, and adjusted his jacket to leave. “Yeah. You just keep telling yourself that.”

  Chapter 21

  “I’m having a lot of chest pain,” Ophelia complained to her doctor while perched on an examining table.

  Dr. Thomas, a handsome African-American internist, scrunched up his face with instant concern and asked, “Show me where you’re having the pain.”

  Ophelia obligingly pointed to the area just above her heart. “It doesn’t hurt all the time, which is why it might be indigestion.”

  “Are you feeling any pain right now?” the doctor asked, flipping open her chart.

  “No, not right now. It sort of comes and goes.” Suddenly, she felt silly for even bringing it up; but as long as she was there for a physical, she might as well mention it.

  “Are you under any type of stress—maybe work related—?”

  “I’m getting married in less than a month,” Ophelia offered.

  “That will do it.” Dr. Thomas’s expression relaxed to an easy smile. “What you’re experiencing is likely a combination of stress and anxiety. It’s actually pretty normal, but do try to do some activities that are going to relax you. Stress can cause major damage to your body.”

  Ophelia nodded. Stress, yeah. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Maybe she would relieve some stress if she could decide on a dress. Four weeks until the wedding, and she had two wedding dresses. Actually, she seemed to have trouble deciding on everything. Jonas had picked out the wedding colors (blue and white), the wedding location (Château Élan), the menus, and the cake.

  And sad to say, her mother and Kailua had picked out Jonas’s wedding band—though she had narrowed it down to four. The whole thing was pathetic. All her life, she had been praised for her organizational and managing skills, but when it came to her own wedding, she was a blank and more than willing to let others take over.

  All she had to do was show up.

  Of course, sex was a great stress reliever, too. Maybe she was tense because she wasn’t getting any until her wedding night.

  “Now, there’s a thought,” she mumbled under her breath. Driving through downtown, Ophelia’s eyes were drawn to T & B Entertainment’s office building. Fleetingly, she wondered what the guys were doing—more specifically, what Solomon was doing.

  Three months, she thought sadly. She didn’t intend for so much time to pass, despite the ultimatum from her fiancé. It’s just that each day it grew harder to muster an apology. Then she began to hope that Solomon would call her.

  He never did.

  Solomon wasn’t going to be a part of the wedding—hell, he’d failed to RSVP after receiving his invite. Then again, what did she expect?

  Ophelia turned her gaze from the glass office building and then slammed on her brakes. Despite the loud screeching, she still managed to tap the bumper of the car ahead of her. She cringed when she noticed it was a black S-series Mercedes, but her gaze also skimmed across the personalized license plate: SGRDADY.

  “Uncle Willy.”

  The Mercedes’s door opened, and the familiar profile of the often rude and crass but lovable Uncle Willy squeezed out of his car. He strolled to the back while the rest of the traffic maneuvered around them.

  As he inspected his bumper, Ophelia also climbed out of her car, wearing a wide smile.

  “Well, well, well,” Willy boasted and stretched his arms wide. “It’s the little filly that got away.”

  Unsure of what he meant, she still allowed him to sweep her into a bear hug.

  “You know, I still haven’t received my invitation to this glamorous wedding I keep hearing about. Don’t make me lay you across my lap and give a good spanking. You know how much I like parties.”

  Laughing, Ophelia pushed out of his embrace. “Then consider yourself personally invited.”

  Willy’s smile broadened. “Well, can I put you over my lap anyway?”

  She tossed her head back with a hearty laugh. “You’re still a riot,” she complimented. “Don’t ever change.”

  “You have my word on it.” He winked. “So how do you want to work off the damage to my car?”

  “Is it bad?” She rushed around him to take a peek for herself. Yet, when she leaned forward for an inspection, she couldn’t find so much as a scratch. “I don’t see any damage.” She stood and glanced over at him.

  “Damn. I could’ve used a personal sex slave,” he said, and snapped his fingers.

  “I thought you had plenty of those.”

  “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

  “You can try, but it’s never gonna happen, old man.” Chuckling, Ophelia rolled her eyes and headed back to her car.

  “Are you on your way to see my nephew?”

  Her knees weakened and she hurried to slide behind the wheel. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Mind if I ask why?”

  She blinked and stammered for a moment. “I—I’m running some errands today. I’m sure I’ll catch up with him another time.” Ophelia closed her door.

  Willy leaned against it, until she rolled down the window. “You know, I’m a firm believer that you should never put off till tomorrow who you can screw today.”

  Ophelia laughed and shook her head.

  “C’mon. You’re here, he’s right over there.” He held her gaze. “What’s a little harmless visit?”

  * * *

  For months now, Jonas had subjected himself to private dance lessons. So far he had learned the waltz, mambo, rumba, and the tango. He wasn’t going to win any dance contest, but he was definitely going to be able to impress his wife on their wedding day.

  Wife. His chest ballooned with hope for the future. He didn’t want to waste any time waiting to have children. He desperately wanted a little girl with Ophelia’s beautiful eyes, and a boy who would one day take over his financial empire.

  They would have homes around the world, and he would see to it that they had the best of everything. The daydream brought a smile to his face, and a sudden rush of anxiousness for the first day of the rest of their lives together.

  However, there was one man who threatened everything: Solomon. Sure, he hadn’t heard Ophelia so much as utter his name lately; but the man still had a tangible presence between them.

  But for now, he’d gotten his wish. Solomon was out of the picture. Yet something in the back of his mind wondered for how long.

  “So, are we ready, Mr. Hinton?” his dance instructor, Cici Castillo, asked, entering the studio.

  Jonas stood, took a deep breath, and clapped his hands. “Sure. Let’s get started!”

  * * *

  Ophelia parked outside of Solomon’s office building and
waited for her courage to build. What possible explanation could she offer for not speaking to him? She had decided to sever ties before Jonas’s ultimatum. She had made the selfish decision to throw away their twenty-five-year-old relationship.

  And she missed him.