Read Beautiful Liars for Free Online Page B

had been kidnapped by her married lover, who was coked out of his mind and paranoid that she was cheating on him with his nephew. As it turns out, the club promoter was his nephew. Really, though, how could she have known? It seemed like everybody in France had the same last name.
    Simone’s homecoming was fraught with rude awakenings.In her absence, the company that her father worked for had imploded in financial scandal, wiping out retirement accountsand inciting a federal inquiry that buried top executives,including her father, in legal bills. Without Simone’s permission, her parents raided her savings, depleting every dollar she had ever earned. And yet they still lost the house and were forced to move into an apartment.
    Ultimately, the stress and humiliation proved too much for her father. He died of a heart attack at the age of forty-six. Her mother moved into a smaller rental unit and accepted a job behind the Guerlain cosmetics counter at Neiman Marcus. And Simone moved to New York with less than a thousand dollars to her name.
    The stateside modeling opportunities turned out to be middling at best, and playing agency hopscotch did nothing to improve the situation. It was infuriating to settle for departmentstore catalog work while Queen Latifah signed on with CoverGirl for millions. Where was the justice?
    On a lark, Simone had signed up for a one-day acting class taught by Pamela Anderson at The Learning Annex. It was two hours well spent.With her new thespian skills she vaulted into acting and got lucky with a semi-regular series of one-offguest shots on episodic TV shows, most of them hourlongprocedural dramas of the Law and Order variety. Usually, she got selected for uppity model or junior society type parts. Casting agents did not see her as the gritty prostitute, the stone-faced government worker, or the around-the-way girl with an out-of-wedlock child by an NBA star, which accounted for ninety-nine percent of available roles for black actresses.
    For the past few years, Simone had been cobbling togetherincome from random modeling assignments and bit player acting jobs, subsidizing cash, lifestyle, and clothing needs with credit card accounts that seemed to grow like sea monkeys.
    An envelope emblazoned with the words YOU ARE APPROVED seemed to arrive in her mailbox at least every other day. It had actually been good for her self-esteem. On a morning when you got passed over for Burn Victim Number Two on Rescue Me , sometimes a girl needed a pair of Christian Louboutin platform Mary Janes in red leather, even if they did cost seven hundred dollars.
    Simone’s cellular hummed to life to the tune of I Dream of Jeannie . Cautiously, she checked the ID screen, saw TILLY CALLING, and felt a moment’s relief, followed by a frisson of irritation.
    Tilly was arguably her closest friend, but sometimes Simone struggled to get past the fact that Tilly came from a wealthy family (that managed to hold on to their fortune), married a rich husband (who was also gorgeous), had been blessed with a gorgeous baby (with no stretch marks to show for it, thanks to obsessive slathering of belly balm by Biggs and Featherbelle), and earned a mint as an endorsement model for 24/7 Cosmetics, a job that required ten days of work per year at the most, five of which (all in-store appearances) Tilly refused to show up for because she hated to shake hands with strangers. It was not just an embarrassment of riches. It was obscene.
    â€œHi, Tilly,” Simone half-sang, half-sighed.
    â€œWe just got back from Starbucks and barely escaped with our lives. Some horrible woman touched Cantaloupe’s face with her icky fingers. She seemed like the sweet grandmothertype, but she could’ve just as easily been a terrorist. I’ve already given Cantaloupe a bath. It’s her third one today already. I feel like I’ve been assaulted.” She breathed a dramaticsigh. “How are you ?”
    â€œNot so good. I