Read Online The Last Goodbye by Reed Arvin - Free Book Online

the money in the room was the hungry variety, always ready to attach itself to a rising tide. Ralston shook hands with a vaguely interested expression, clearly aware of his position. This was the new black elite: the wife, nonconformist and artsy, the husband, impeccably dressed in Armani, playing the white games to perfection.
    The couple separated quickly: a handler led Michele into the crowd, while Ralston headed in the opposite direction. The crowd near her fell on her in that polite way rich people have who are in awe of artists, especially when they’ve paid two hundred and fifty bucks for the chance to demonstrate they have good enough taste to deserve being wealthy. I let Ralston go; I was there for Sonnier. I followed from a distance, watching her greet people who were loving her safe, calculated funkiness.
    Of course, from my perspective, that of the Fulton County Criminal Court system, Michele Sonnier was about as street as Girl Scout cookies. Nobody who sings opera is going to carjack you, if you see what I mean. And being black, I figured she knew that as well as I did. Which made me figure that what I was watching was a little bit like opera itself. She could have broken out into song right where she stood, something about liberal white guilt and a mule and forty acres. But instead, she just worked the room, letting her new best friends tell her how great she was.
    I watched her for a while, wondering about Doug Townsend and his obsession. In her shoes she seemed tall, but I estimated she was only about five-six without them, with slender but well-defined arms. She had fine features, delicate and precise, with dark brown eyes, and spectacular hair—brunette, with reddish-auburn highlights—swept back into a ponytail. My God , I thought. Poor Doug never had a chance. Finally, she made it around to where I was standing, and she stopped in front of me. Her handler was speaking to someone a few yards away; for the moment, we were alone. She put out a beautiful, smooth hand. I took it and introduced myself. “Jack Hammond.”
    â€œHello, Mr. Hammond.” Her voice was cultured, educated.
    â€œQuite a soiree they put on for you.”
    She smiled. “I hate all this fuss.”
    â€œAt least it’s in your honor.”
    Her smile softened. “I suppose.”
    â€œSo how do you like playing a man?”
    â€œA challenge, but well worth it in this case.”
    â€œBecause of the music?”
    She shrugged. “The music’s alright.”
    That was a little bit of a surprise. “Just all right?”
    Sonnier leaned forward. I couldn’t place her scent; it was citrus, subtle and clean. “I’ll let you in on a secret, if you promise not to tell,” she said.
    â€œI think I can manage that.”
    â€œThis particular opera’s not one of my favorites. I do it for another reason.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThe rather delicious irony, obviously.”
    â€œI’m a little new to the opera thing,” I said. “Maybe you could paint me a picture.”
    She leaned closer. She was being confidential as hell. I had to remember to ask Blu what that scent was. “That surprises me, Mr. Hammond,” she said. “You have the air of an expert.”
    I smiled, I was also slightly annoyed, because even though I knew she was playing me, I couldn’t help falling for it. She knew that I knew, too, and it didn’t make any difference. Really beautiful women get to break all the rules. I couldn’t take my eyes off her glossy, soft mouth. She was actually starting to piss me off, until I realized it was Charles Ralston I was hating, simply for being the guy who got to kiss her. “In Shakespeare’s time,” she said, “Juliet was played by a man. All the roles were. Women weren’t allowed on stage.”
    â€œYeah, I’d heard that. So that balcony scene . . .”
    â€œTwo Englishmen