Ever since I started being Butterfly I could confidently say that every night was different.
The music was different, the weather was different, the vibes were different but most importantly, the people were different.
That was exactly what I'd craved when I decided to become Butterfly. I wanted a difference, I wanted change.
Never in a million years did I imagine that my boss was different too when the sun went down.
I honestly couldn't fathom that Carson was capable of doing many things other than boss me around, I couldn't imagine that he was capable of being human.
That was what intrigued me the most. That he could show emotion.
We were at the beach, sitting among the rocks, gazing out at the lapping waves while the gentle breeze flirted with my hair. The sky looked like a velvety blue-black drape had been spread above us reaching out into the horizon.
“You know, if someone had told me two weeks ago that I'd be baring my soul to a semi-stranger I'd have probably drove that person back to the loony bin,” Carson chuckled.
I didn't know how Carson was able to pull it off but as the wind carried his voice to me it sounded both husky and gentle at the same time. And for the umpteenth time since I'd moved our little party out here little flickers of electricity shot through my spine and spread throughout my entire body, speeding up my heart and causing my skin to be super sensitive to the cool air around me.
“No . . . You'd probably have someone else drive that person to the loony bin,” I joked, knowing fully well Carson Miller did not suffer fools gladly.
I saw a flash of white teeth before he turned his smoldering gray eyes to me. I was immediately transported to that brief time in the elevator.
Whatever that was was at the same time scary and delectable, a combination that produced a big fat rock that landed squat in my stomach squishing the butterflies that'd formed.
Despite that I still let him touch me. I still liked it even though I knew exactly how this was going to end. With me heartbroken and jobless. I didn't do relationships and seeing the number of women I had to send flowers with repudiatory notes attached, neither did he.
With that thought I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen next.
I'll tell you what happens next. That man isn't just hanging out with you because he's actually interested in you. Oh no, honey, don't deceive yourself. He only wants one thing, to get into your pants, and once that's achieved he'll throw you away so fast you'll get whiplash.
I deflated at the words from my inner voice. It was saddening the fact that it was true. What else could he want with a nobody like me?
“Hey,” he cut through my musings with a hand to my cheek. I shivered and hoped he'd think it was from the wind. “Are you ok?”
I looked into his narrow eyes and as if by magic all my insecurities vanished.
“I'm fine,” I nodded and swallowed. After a while I said, “I'm sorry.”
His eyebrows twisted. “For what?”
I let out a breath. “Believing the gossip. I'm on Instagram a lot and the verdict on you is . . .” I shook my head. “Yikes.”
He removed his hand and folded them on his lap. I adored the way his glossy hair moved in the wind.
I was really apologizing for believing that he was a cold hearted robot sent from hell to destroy my sanity. But of course there was no way he would know that.
He took a deep breath. “What do they say about me? Come on, don't hold anything back.”
I picked at my nails, reluctant to divulge anything.
Finally — after I could practically feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of my head — I cracked.
“Fine. People seem to think that you're great at business but outside of that, you're an emotionally immature hedonist whose meagre IQ resides in his penis.”
His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets and roll into the lapping waves.
“What? You're kidding.”
“Believe me, I couldn't make it up even if I tried.”
I gave him a few minutes to digest this and before I knew it he burst out laughing.
For a moment I was stunned stiff, completely mesmerized by the rarest sound in the world. It was like music and I wanted nothing more than to hit the replay button.
Much to my disappointment it didn't last long and he stopped laughing almost immediately and looked away, like he was embarrassed to be caught doing something people give little thought to.
“That's ok,” he said in that gentle voice I was beginning to grow fond of. “I don't really care about what other people think about me. What I really care about is what you think.”
“Me?” I asked surprised that for once he wanted my opinion.
“Of course. So, Butterfly, what do you think about me?”
A thousand thoughts rushed into my head, a thousand things that I'd wanted to tell him fighting for the chance to be the first one out of my mouth.
It was a tough battle but eventually I was able to still the turmoil in my mind by reminding myself that the end result of spilling my guts would be unpleasant.
So I decided to offer the least offensive opinion I had of him.
“I think that you're misunderstood, and that people have gone on with this misconception for so long that you don't bother trying to change them. And even worse, you're starting to believe these misconceptions yourself.”
I scooped up a handful of sand.
“So my question is, why are you ok with people believing the wrong thing about you?”
It took a while but he finally answered. “You want the real truth?”
“Of course. I want to know what goes on here,” I tapped the side of his head.
He sighed and as if someone was draining him of every last drop of blood, he told me. “Well, it's easier to project that than letting the world know that the person at the helm of Miller Inc is a sad husk of a man who just shows up to work every day to go through the motions.”
And then, just like that, it clicked.
He wasn't making me miserable because he was enjoying it, he was making me miserable because he was miserable.
Suddenly everything made sense. The reluctance to speak to his mom, the groans before meetings and the gloomy stares. It all made sense.
“Wow! Saying it out loud feels really weird.”
I chuckled knowing that it probably did. “If it makes you feel so bad why don't you just quit?”
He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. “I can't ‘just quit’,” his eyes found the neon sign of his company. “It's my family's legacy, it's all we have. And my family trusts me to keep it going, I can't let years of hardwork go to waste.”
“But you don't enjoy what you do, I don't see the point in continuing if it doesn't make you happy.”
“Oh, there is a point, one with approximately seven figures I get at the end of every day.”
He shot me a cheeky smile and I frowned, my displeasure showing on my face. “Money isn't everything,” I slowly let the sand in my hand trickle out.
He sighed. “Of course not . . .”
“So why don't you quit?”
“Because seven figures a day for three hundred and sixty-five days is motivation enough to stay?”
“Really?” I couldn't believe this man. “That's your reason?”
“I don't know what you want me to say, Butterfly, reason or not, I can't quit . . .” He sighed. “I just can't.”
I knew otherwise but I decided not to push it.
I stood up and planting myself in front of him, I cupped his downturned face with both hands and raised it up until he was staring at me.
“One thing I've learnt is that life is short and you can't waste it pursuing the frivolous. I get you have responsibilities but at the end of the day, it's your life and only you can decide how best to live it. I just hope your reasons are worth giving up happiness.”
And then I let my hands settle on his broad shoulders.
“Where have you been my whole life?” He asked while his grey eyes bore through my soul.
“Somewhere over the rainbow.”
He chuckled and drew me closer until I was flush against his hard chest. Being this close to him was intoxicating and before I could stop myself visions of kissing him came flooding in. I chided myself and just as soon as the visions came they receded, tucked safely behind my walls.
And with that I knew it was time to end this night.
“I have to go,” I whispered as I traced the silky hairs on his face.
“You know you don't have to,” He settled his hand on top of the one on his cheek and traced it with his thumb. The feeling it produced was so satisfying I almost sighed.
I nodded. “I know but I really should.”
He tucked a hand under my chin and made me look up at him. “I enjoyed talking with you.”
I smiled a genuine smile. “Me too. It was very insightful to say the least.” You have no idea.
“I've never told anyone about the whole hating my job thing.”
“Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.” I winked and extracted myself from the cage of his arms.
He walked me to Baby and watched me get in before leaning closer, his narrow eyes taking on an adorable glint.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
I laughed and clicked my seatbelt. “I highly doubt it.”
He sighed. “You know I worry about you, right?”
I reached out and lightly pinched his cheek. “Isn't that just adorable but there's really no need. I can take care of myself.”
He sighed. “I really wish there was a way to know you were ok during the day.”
“Maybe there is,” Carson's eyebrow perked up in interest. “What's your favorite song?” I asked with a cheeky grin.
He groaned. “And here I was thinking you were being serious.”
“I am! Just tell me. I know what I'm doing.”
He looked doubtful as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Don't be shy,” I took his hand.
“I'm not being shy, love, I just don't have one.”
“You . . .” I stopped. “Oh! You mean you can't pick one. Oh, I get.”
He shook his head and I watched his face light up with amusement. He was clearly enjoying this.
“When I say I don't have one, I mean I don't have one. I'm not a music sort of person.”
You would've thought he called my grandmother a whore with the way I took offense to that. “What? You don't . . . I'm sorry, we can't be friends.”
He laughed. “Really?”
“You can't be friends with a DJ and not be a music sort of person.”
He just shrugged and I realized he was just a bumbling fool.
“Tell you what, you can use tomorrow to find a favorite song and I'll hear it when I see you Monday night.”
As soon as his face broke into a smirk that tugged his perfect lips upward I knew I was a goner.
• • •
Sundays usually consisted of brunch with Inés and Willow and this Sunday wasn't any different.
But as I walked towards Inés and her husband, Kevin's modest three bedroom house with the least crappy bottle of wine I could afford, my mind was feverishly running over how I would keep my secret from them.
Not that I was Butterfly but that I was starting to really like our boss. To understand him.
Yep, that sounded crazy, even to me.
There was absolutely no way one would come out without the other and I wasn't sure I was ready to divulge my biggest secret. But I needed to talk to someone, to find out what I should do next because I found the thought of just ditching Carson cruel and insensitive.
And I was anything but cruel and insensitive.
I manoeuvred through the discarded toys on the front lawn and laughed inwardly.
I loved children but I'd sooner rip out my uterus than have six of them. Inés deserved to be sainted.
Walking up the stairs there were more toys on the porch swing and on the porch. Haphazardly thrown legos, stuffed animals with exposed fluff and a few one-armed Barbies were among the chaos.
Before I pressed the doorbell I bent to look into the birdcage beside the door.
“Hi Captain,” I greeted the parrot with the multi-colored plume. I always greeted him whenever I came by because for some reason he reminded me of myself when I was fully dressed.
“Captain,” he squawked, shifted on his swing before going in for a gulp of water.
Chuckling, I ruffled his soft feathers before ringing the doorbell.
I heard a loud shout and someone scream in Spanish before the door was yanked open and Inés appeared in a white tank top that had a curious orange stain and light blue boxers. Her normally tame black curls were everywhere and in the morning sun her brown skin looked flawless.
Her eyes were a stunning russet as she wiped her brows. “Alex! Welcome.”
“This is for you,” I handed her the bottle of wine I held. “Is everything ok? I heard yelling and . . .”
“What? No, everything's fine, come in, come in,” she moved aside. “Non-alcoholic wine, really?” She asked as she read the label.
I shrugged and entered. The door closed on Captain squawking away.
Inés' house was, strangely, cleaner inside than it was out and seeing as six children under 15 lived in here that was saying a lot. The checkered linoleum floors gleamed, the white contrasting sharply with the red roses on the runner going up the stairs.
“How are you Alex?” Inés asked as she led me to the modern kitchen.
“Well, not too shabby. I finally scheduled Morgan's vet trip, he's not going to be too happy but he needs it,” I said as I leaned on the granite tabletop. That was the last thing on my mind but I had to stay distracted until Willow got here and I could finally decide if I would clue them in on the real issue. “Where's Jack anyway?”
Inés gave me a knowing smile, like she knew it was only a matter of time before I asked after my cute godson.
“Kev took them all to church and after, abuela's so we have time to talk, just us girls before the pack comes back.”
I nodded and for the first time noticed the ingredients laid out on the counter.
“Oh la la,” I picked up the cardamom and gave it a sniff.
“I figured you'd want to work your magic in the kitchen while I change. Willow said she'd be here soon, by the way.”
I rolled my eyes. That girl was always late.
I tied on an apron and got round to making brunch.
The only other reason I came to brunch every Sunday — aside from hanging out with the only other females I managed to befriend — was to cook. Granted, I cooked at home but it was only for my mom and myself and seeing as how she was my mother she was pretty much obliged to tell me my food was great.
With Inés and Willow I could get real critique and honestly that was the only way a cook could grow.
Also I got to see the looks on their faces when they took the first bite. When their eyes widen and you could practically see their tastebuds sing. Honestly, there was no better feeling than seeing someone enjoy what you've spent hours toiling away at.
I was in the middle of flipping my special banana pancakes when a plate clattered behind me. I turned startled, wielding the spatula as a makeshift weapon.
The intruder as it turned out was a buzz cut-wearing, tattoo-covered woman whose upper half was clad in only a polka dot bra and who was currently gobbling up my poor waffles.
“Sonia!” I shrieked so loud you'd have thought I'd been stabbed before lunging forward and smacking her maple syrup-covered hand.
“Ouch!” she cried and unhanded the waffle. “Oh come on babe, I was just helping myself.”
“Well, if you wanted some you could've just asked,” I sighed, plated a few waffles with skillfully arranged strawberries on top and stretched it out to her. “Here, next time don't stick your grubby fingers in my food.”
Her brown eyes lit up as she accepted the plate. Then she came round and sat on the counter and I saw that her lower half had even less clothing. If anyone who was not familiar with Sonia's style entered now, they would probably not have eaten anything from the kitchen where a half-naked woman with a butterfly tattoo on her hip sat comfortably in.
“Remind me again why you're still single?” Sonia licked her fingers.
“Does your sister know you're here?” I asked before turning back to the pancakes.
“Please,” I could practically hear the eye roll. “Do you know we've been fighting all morning? Santa Inés has six children but if I bring a girl back I'm the slut.”
I chuckled and gathered the pancakes in a delicious brown heap before turning off the gas and facing Sonia. My job here was done.
“She just doesn't respect me.”
“Maybe it's because you're still sleeping on her couch?” I offered as I meticulously started doling out blueberries.
“You know, you're right. I'm getting my own place.”
With a knowing smile on my face I said, “Yeah, you should definitely do that.”
This was how every Sunday went. Sonia would complain about her sister, I would remind her that she had no place else to live, she'd resolve to get her own place, repeat.
“You're looking quite yummy this morning, Alexandra, don't tell me you finally found a girlfriend? I'd be heartbroken because I've been applying for that position for ages.”
I found myself blushing. “And I've told you Sonia, the minute I realize I'm gay, you'll be my first call.”
At that point loud footsteps from upstairs traveled down and Sonia quickly leapt from the counter.
“I should go,” she told me. “Sister dearest doesn't like when I hit on her friend.”
“Her friend doesn't like it either.”
“One way or another, you will be mine,” and with those parting words Sonia slipped out the back door.
I liked Sonia. Sure she was semi-crazy but she made for good banter.
Within seconds Inés appeared — now presentably clothed in a strapless red crop top with sleeves that extended to her wrists and a pair of black jeans — curly hair thrown over one shoulder and big eyes that took in my work.
“Alex! Dios! Look at all of this!”
“Too much?” I asked sheepishly.
“What? Of course not! I just . . . You're very good at this, makes me wonder why you even work at Miller Inc when you could do this full-time.”
I didn't need to say anything because Willow skidded to a halt at the kitchen door.
“Thank God I'm not late,” she breathed.
We took the food out to the back patio while Willow went on about her elderly neighbor that prevented her from hosting parties.
As we sat down to eat I was suddenly on edge again, all relief gotten from focusing my mind elsewhere evaporated into the slightly humid air.
The pancakes felt like leather in my mouth and I made sure it was constantly full to keep from joining in the casual conversation.
It didn't take long for Inés to notice.
“Alex? What's going on? You haven't said a word.”
“Wait,” Willow leaned forward, her signature gray hair following the path of the wind. “Are you still mad about the whole George thing?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. I begrudgingly forgive you.”
Willow stuck her tongue out at me before topping up her wine glass so that it was almost full. She said she knew I'd bring rubbish so she'd stopped by and gotten the ‘good stuff’. Like it was my fault I didn't drink.
“So what is it?” Inés picked a crumb off my flowery chiffon shirt.
“Do you really want to know?”
Inés nodded before Willow said, “I know I do,” and took a sip of her wine.
I looked at both their concerned faces and decided that if I could trust them with what happened to my sister, I could trust them with this.
“Fine, but what I'm about to tell you cannot leave this place. I mean it.”
After I took a deep breath I told them everything from the beginning.
At the end I explained my dilemma: continue with this facade or pull out now before either of us got hurt.
My audience looked dumbstruck and I groaned. Was there really no one to tell me what I was supposed to do?
“Hold on,” Willow held one finger up and downed the entire glass of wine in her hand in two gulps. “I needed that. Now, come again?”
“You and Carson?” Inés asked, black eyes as bright as buttons. “That's an interesting combination.”
“Let's not forget he's also our boss. Stuck up, arrogant, and he can laugh? I honestly thought he was a robot from hell!” Willow set her glass down and raised her booted feet on the table. Inés smacked it down and glared at her.
“Yes, yes, it's all fascinating, now can we get back to the main issue please?” I urged.
“You're beating yourself up, querida. The way I see it you should just take it one day at a time. Worrying about what will happen in the future won't change it. Life is short and honestly you need some bad decisions right about now,” Inés lightly punched my shoulder.
I couldn't believe my ears. “You mean you're ok with me lying to him?”
She just shrugged, it was Willow who spoke, “After everything he's done to members of our gender I'd say he deserves a bit of lying to.”
The strain on my conscience lifted and for the first time I was able to breathe. It was probably bad advice but right now it was the only one I had.
“Now that that's over with, let's back up to the part where you're Butterfly . . .”