My house was empty and cold as I stepped into it.
Throwing my keys I didn't bother to check where they landed with a forlorn jingle.
Not bothering to turn on a light I trudged over to the kitchen and opened the enormous freestanding fridge. The light from it filled the room with a ghostly white light as I reached in and plucked a beer from its place.
After closing the fridge I twisted off the cap and took a swig. I was immediately reminded of why I hated beer but I needed alcohol and I wasn't in my house back in Miami where I could easily get some whisky.
Drinking from the cold bottle I made my way upstairs.
Turning right in the hall I walked to the last bedroom and twisted the doorknob open.
The wind from the open French doors was kicking the white curtains up as I entered.
Since I'd arrived in Orlando yesterday I had set up shop in this particular room of the house because with only one window and a pair of French doors it was the least brightest in the entire house.
That and because technically it wasn't really my house.
Sure it was owned by Miller Inc. but by now it was abundantly clear that anything owned by the company was not owned by me. The last thing I wanted was to assume otherwise.
Dropping my now empty bottle on the table next to my MacBook I took off my smartwatch and dropped it beside the bottle. I removed my jacket and tossed it aside.
Plopping on the unmade king-sized bed, the bowtie was next.
I rubbed my hand across my eyes feeling suddenly tired. Like I hadn't offered to sit through a two hour movie.
Luckily for me Butterfly had let out one of her bewitching laughs and said it was best she got back to her hotel.
I was about dropping off to sleep when the muffled ring of my phone rang out.
Groaning, I patted the pockets of my pants hoping to find the irritating device.
Coming up empty I swore and sat up.
The ringing seemed to be coming from my jacket carelessly splayed on the black carpeted floor.
Scooping up the material I dug out my phone and answered without checking the name on the screen.
“Carson Miller, sounding sleepy and it's not even twelve-thirty, what sort of alternate universe did I wake up in?” asked the cheeky voice with the unmistakable British accent.
I chuckled. “Well, if it isn't Jamie Crawford junior, you finally deign me worthy of a phone call. When I told your office I was going to be in Orlando you replied with a text. A . . .” I stopped remembering the dare. Even though it was ridiculous I was determined to follow it. “freaking text!”
I sat on the bed and started on the buttons of my white shirt.
“Come now, Carson my love, there's no need to get all riled up.  I'll make it up to you, I promise.”
I rolled my eyes as I finished the buttons.
“Are you rolling your eyes at me now?” She asked like she was right in front of me.
Jaime and I went back a long time. My family — in other words, my mother and grandmother — collected art works for some weird, misguided reason and Jaime Crawford senior was the best art dealer ever. She would shadow her father most times and we would end up together when the grown ups wanted to talk alone. Just two lonely teenagers who got along.
“Why are you calling, Jay? Need someone to keep you company? You sound alone, where's Juliet? Are you two still together?”
“Jesus Christ you dipshit, keep my girlfriend out of this. And not that it's any of your business but we're still together, thank you very much. I'm planning on popping the question soon, so, there's that.”
“Is that why you called?” I leaned back on the bed and supported my head with my palm. “You need advice on how to deal with your lady friend? I hate to be the one to tell you this but I'm retired.”
She let out a frustrated groan. “And you wonder why I don't call! No you dumb piece of shit, I'm not calling for advice.”
I snickered. Provoking Jaime would never not be entertaining.
She took in an audible breath. “No, I'm calling to check in. You were at the Place yesterday but you didn't come down for a game, care to explain why?”
Her question took my mind back to last night. To the things I'd heard from Butterfly.
My blood had run cold from what she told me. Partly because of the fact that I was right about her getting hurt in the past and also because of what that son of a bitch did to her.
How she went through all that and still came out bubbly and optimistic was beyond me.
In that moment, as she sat there vulnerable and small I felt this odd surge of protectiveness shoot through me with the intensity of a million suns. I knew she could handle herself but I found I wanted to wrap my arms around her and never let go.
It was just a pity she never gave the bastard's name. I don't know what I would have done had I known his identity.
“What can I say, Jay? I only came for the art.”
“Since when have you ever only come for the art? You always drop by downstairs. Always. You're terrible at the game but you've got an excellent poker face.”
“Hey, I know you rig the game somehow, Jay, I'm on to you. Just know that.”
“Oh bugger off, Car! Americans are such sore losers,” she scoffed.
Then it was quiet between us. That comfortable silence when words aren't necessary.
“Did I catch something about you being retired? When did that happen? I must have missed the cataclysmic event that led to that.”
“No cataclysmic event, I assure you. I just, met someone, that's all.”
“Well, color me surprised. Is she a robot you designed yourself? Because I seem to recall something you said about how women are quick to bore you.”
“If you're going to be so assuming I might as well not tell you anything.”
“Fine, fine, sorry. Who is she? Do I know her? Is she a socialite? German? I know you had a thing for German girls once. I never could understand you, Carson.”
“Ugh! There you go assuming again, Jay. And for the record, Estelle was French. No, you don't know her. She's . . .” I grappled with the right words to say but I couldn't find the words to quantify the magnificence that was Butterfly. “Different.”
“Lost for words, are we? Wow, you really like this woman don't you?”
Is it that obvious?
Out loud I asked, “How was it like for you? When you first met Juliet. Did you immediately know you were gonna be so attached?”
“God no! I was still clinging unto this notion that daddy dearest put in my head that any relationship other than a man and woman is abominable when I met Juliet. I knew she was special the minute I set eyes on her but the thought of us together repulsed me. Needless to say, we had to go through a lot of crap to get where we are today. So no, no you don't immediately know. And you don't know by some sudden lightening strike or a bolt to the head. Its usually more subtle than that, one day you look at the person and go ‘holy shit, how have I been alive this long without you?’.”
I stared up at the canopy even through nothing interesting was up there.
Jaime was the last person I'd ask for advice but I was out of my depth here and I really did not want to screw things up.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be talking to a friend about liking anyone. I thought I'd die alone.
“Hey,” Jaime spoke up. “I know you're worried . . .”
“I never said that.”
“And that's how I know. You tell everybody everything except what really bothers you. You're a great guy, Car. No matter how annoying you are.”
“Thanks, Jay, I think. Congratulations, by the way, hope I get invited to the wedding.”
“If I had any say, you wouldn't, but Juliet seems to like you for some reason. I have to go, need to get some sleep, brunch with the parents tomorrow. Oh, and Carson? Yesterday Mona Lisa was going on about how she was missing her favorite boy toy. I think you should call her . . .”
I cut the call.
• • •
When I opened my eyes again I knew it was five by the light — or lack thereof — coming from the sky.
My first thought was of how today was going to suck because I couldn't use my favorite profanity.
After a shower and a change of clothes I hurriedly made a cup of strong black coffee to take to work because God knew I would need it. I had no idea where Alex got my coffee every morning and it was times like these that I missed it.
Getting into the car I took a gulp of my coffee, sighed and started my smartwatch's countdown for eight o'clock. The time of the party.
It was in a different location but at least I would see Butterfly.
She was slowly becoming the reason I woke up every day.
I put on my sunglasses and started on my way to the office.
Miller Inc.'s office here wasn't as impressive as our head office in Miami, probably because it was unwise and impractical to maintain two fancy sky skyscrapers in the same state.
Parking in the underground parking lot, I slammed my door and walked away with my coffee and the folders I would need for today.
Miller Inc. occupied three prime floors of this building owned by Sundown Towers. It was mainly used for managerial purposes, in other words, the most boring part of running a high-tech company.
I ignored everyone I encountered  as I walked to the elevator.
The doors had just opened and I entered. A tiny man was about to join me when I shot him a glare. Even through my sunglasses my glare had the intended effect because he paused.
“I'll just take the next one,” he told me and adjusted his knockoff Armani suit, looking anywhere but directly at me.
I pressed the button and the doors closed with me as the only occupant. The last thing I wanted was to deal with any human this early and without caffeine.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket but my hands were full so I resolved to check it when I was settled in my office.
When the doors opened I was greeted by a petite dark-skinned woman in a flowery dress that was between inappropriate and suitable for a meeting. The next thing I found myself wondering was why Alex never wore anything that good.
“Good morning, Mr. Miller. Unfortunately, Mr. Gonzales will not be available to help you today, so I'll be stepping in in his place. My name is Adaora Matthews.”
As she talked I was already moving down the hall to the temporary office I'd taken, my system already itching for coffee.
“Adaora. That's a pretty name.”
“Thank you, sir,” she responded as she fell into stride with me, her British accent making the words sweeter than normal.
“I'm kinda proud of you, Adaora. No one is ever as early as me. Hell, even Gonzales was twenty minutes late yesterday, I kept track. The only one that ever bests me in that category is Alex, my personal assistant, but if you ask me, I think she's a robot.”
I opened the office door and let Adaora in before closing it. My office here wasn't as big as the one in Miami but at least I had a floor-to-ceiling window. That helped.
“Actually, sir, your assistant sent over a file on you. Just your likes and dislikes. I think I was the only one brave enough to read it.”
“A sense of humor. I like you already. Just don't believe everything you read, most times I think Alex has a vendetta against me.”
I draped my jacket over the back of my chair and took my seat. Taking my coffee I invited the tiny woman to sit and she did.
“Oh it wasn't all bad. I think she just did it . . .”
She trailed off and I raised an eyebrow for her to continue.
She swallowed and ducked her head.
“To warn you guys so you didn't do anything to upset me so I didn't fire anyone,” I finished for her. “It's ok, you can say it. It sounds like something Alex would do. She cares about everyone and it has come to my attention that I have a bit of an anger management issue, so . . .” I took a sip of my coffee and wished I'd added some milk.
“Right. That,” she tucked a cockscrew curl behind her ear. “You probably want to get started,” she took the tablet sitting on my table and I waved my hand to tell her to go ahead.
I listened while she recited what I had to do today.
I was quiet throughout, just drinking my coffee until she said, “Oh and there's a board meeting today. We could teleconference it for you, we have the capacity to.”
“No,” I stopped her. “Cancel it. Tell them I'm busy.”
I knew that this board meeting was just another one of my mother's ploy to get me to talk to her. I knew how it would go. They'd bring up a topic and my mother would take the complete opposite side from me and we'd end up bickering like a bunch of preschoolers. My mom thrived on animosity and I wasn't ready to feed that witch.
Adaora blinked and nodded. “That's all for today. We could rearrange or cancel some things if you like.”
“No,” I dropped my now empty travel mug. “That's ok for today.”
She stood up. “If you need me I'm number 12 on the intercom.”
“Adaora?” She stopped at the door. “Thank you. I appreciate you stepping in for Gonzales the unrepentant latecomer.”
She gave a curt nod and left me alone.
I ran a hand through my hair and got down to work.
I dealt with the folders I'd brought from home before turning my attention to the ones on my table.
With a frown on my face as I perused a document, I remembered my phone's previous vibration and brought it out.
It was a text from Butterfly.
It was only two words sent two hours ago but it managed to bring a smile to my face.
Butterfly: Hi handsome.
I was figuring out how to answer when Alex's call came in.
I picked it and placed the phone to my ear.
“Hi! How's vacation?” She asked in a chriper voice that was too bright to belong to Alex.
“I'm not on vacation. I just have . . .”
“Things you need to do, I know.”
“No you don't,” I muttered to myself even though I knew she was absolutely right.
“So, just thought I'd check in on you,” she paused. “No, that's a lie. I know you're alright. I'm calling because I just got a text from Joey. Did you know he just came back from an appendicitis surgery?”
I raised my eyebrow even though no one was with me.
“No, I did not know that. I also do not know who the . . .” I stopped myself when I realized I was about to use the word I'd sworn off of for today. “hell Joey is.”
“Oh, he's your mom's PA. Three kids, allergy to silk, indigestion problems, he's a great guy really. Anyway, he says to tell you that your mom is pissed about you missing the board meeting today.”
“There was a board meeting today?” I made my voice as innocent as a newborn.
“Ha! Good one, Carson. Just great.”
The way she said my name sounded so intimate, and I found myself wanting her to say it again.
I shook it off the craziness of my last thought.
“I know you deliberately canceled.”
“Why is this Joel . . .”
“Joey,” she corrected.
“Joey. Why is he sending you my mother's current state of mind and not me?”
“Isn't it obvious? He's flipping terrified of you.”
“And yet he has the balls to work with my freaking mother! A woman who is arguably insane and about a thousand times worse than the Devil himself. At this point I'm pretty sure she killed him and is running hell from Miller Inc.'s headquarters!”
“Carson! That's your mother you're talking about.”
“I'm very aware,” my attention was recaptured by the document I'd been reading. “Alex, while I have you, do you remember the proposal of a 1.2 million dollar test site in Cairo?”
“I think so. Why?”
“Because it says here that I approved it and I do not remember approving any such thing.”
“That's strange. Maybe you did and you just don't remember.”
“No, I'm not that forgetful. It has my signature and everything but I'm telling you I didn't approve this. A test site in Cairo would be redundant, we already have a couple in South Africa, Ghana and two in Nigeria alone.”
“Ok, tell you what? Let me make some calls and I'll get back to you.”
“Good, I want to know what happened to that money and the test site.”
“Got it, chief.”
The call ended and I went back to staring at the piece of paper in front of me carrying my signature.
Something was not right.
My door opened and in walked the last person I expected to see in a very long time.
I just sat there and stared with disbelief at the dainty figure standing before me.
“Hello dear grandson,” my grandmother removed her sunglasses and shot me an impassive look and I just knew I was in for a long, stressful day.