The Missing Butterfly

by Megan Derr

Malcolm's smile returned, tripled in brightness, and he stole another quick kiss.

  "So why are we here?" Cassidy asked. "This is your brother's office."

  "Yep," Malcolm said. "I hide here all the time, especially back when I was two seconds away from calling my new accounts payable guy into my office for a very personal chat."

  Cassidy rolled his eyes. "Or when you had a black eye from bar fights that you didn't want your employees to see?" he asked.

  Malcolm smirked and said, "Sort of like calling in sick the Monday after secretly making out with your boss over the weekend?"

  "Touché," Cassidy conceded, making a face.

  Laughing, Malcolm wandered over to what Cassidy realized was a bar and poured himself a drink. "Want anything?"

  "Uh, no. I'm good." Cassidy shook his head, as bemused as ever by all the small details of Malcolm and Malcolm's life he kept learning. It was a million light years beyond his own life. "Um. Can I ask you a question?"

  "Of course," Malcolm said, wandering back toward him, a glass of whiskey in one hand.

  "Why do you—why are you just a manager and all?"

  "Instead of living the idyllic life of a jet setting millionaire, you mean? Because from what I've seen of that life, it's incredibly lonely. I'd only live like a king if I had someone to run off and play with me." The look and heat directed at Cassidy then was quiet but forceful, making it plain that if Cassidy wanted to apply for the position, it was his for the taking.

  Cassidy swallowed, and wished he'd asked for a drink after all. "I—I can't run away—" He bit off the 'yet' that tried to tack itself on, but only barely. What was he thinking, trying to mooch off Malcolm. He hadn't worked this hard, come this far, just to wind up as a sponging boyfriend.

  Malcolm seemed to hear the unspoken word anyway, if the small, happy smile was any indication.

  They were moving too fast. Way too fucking fast. Just because he'd spent four months dreaming and fantasizing about precisely these sorts of stupid, sappy moments along with the nights of fantastic sex, did not mean they should be going ninety miles an hour right now. Malcolm was smart, charming, funny, sweet, hard working, so far from spoiled brat it was crazy, a hell of a brawler, a damned good drinker, and fucked like a dream. None of that, however, excused Cassidy's already daydreaming about distant future type things.

  Really, what sort of life could they build, when they were so drastically different in terms of finance, station… It already seemed so lopsided at times.

  But then Malcolm moved close and held him closer, and kissed him senseless and all Cassidy could think was 'yes'.

  "Stop making out with your new boyfriend in my office," Antoine said. "Nobody gets action in my office unless it's with me. Why are you here?"

  "I needed a place to hide and make out with my new boyfriend," Malcolm retorted, grinning.

  Antoine rolled his eyes and ignored Malcolm in favor of pouring himself a drink.

  "You're the one who emailed to say you needed to talk to me," Malcolm said. "I figured it was easier to catch you here rather than find you later."

  Grimacing, Antoine tossed back the contents of his glass, then refilled it. "Yeah. I didn't mean to interfere with your date, though. It's about Wally. It can wait 'til tomorrow. Go have fun." He tossed back the second drink, poured a third, and wandered over to his desk.

  To judge from the drinking, and the general air of unhappiness around Antoine, Cassidy surmised the matter could wait 'til tomorrow, but definitely shouldn’t. He stepped away from Malcolm. "We can go out tomorrow."

  "No," Malcolm said. "Go ahead to Carlos'. He'll get you set up, and I'll join you in a bit."

  "Okay," Cassidy said, because it wasn't worth arguing about here. If it seemed like he really should go home, he could leave from the restaurant. A silly date, as much as he was looking forward to it, shouldn't take precedence over family.

  Malcolm kissed his cheek, and Cassidy replied in kind, then departed, hoping they worked out whatever was wrong.

  As he waited for the elevator to reach the parking garage, his mind tried to pull up all the office gossip he'd heard over the weeks—about Antoine being friends with Wally, more than friends with Wally, Wally's marriage being a mess. Then he shook his head, and dismissed all of it. Whatever was wrong, was none of his business, and he had problems enough of his own anyway.

  Traffic getting out of downtown was shitty as always, but Cassidy really didn't care today. Content to enjoy the downtime, he put his windows down and his music up, singing along for all he was worth as he crawled along, not caring at all if people glared. Whatever his problems were, he did have Malcolm for the present, and that made him want to smile and sing.

  Eventually he broke free of the traffic, and drove to Carlos' restaurant. Parking, locking his car up, he strode toward it—and had barely stepped a foot inside when Carlos appeared at his side. "Mal texted me to say you would be along. Come, come, I have set up one of the family's rooms for the two of you."

  "What—" But he was given no chance to reply, and finally gave up until he was dragged into a handsome, secluded dining room with a beautiful view of the city.

  Carlos snagged a chair, turned it, and straddled it, draping his arms over the top of it. He'd set two beers on the table, and took a long drink from one of them. "So I hear you are not just a little office monkey after all. Can I see your tats? I always wanted some like yours, myself—all over my arms, torso, you know. But my mother screamed at the idea, and then my girlfriend screams, and now that she is my wife, she screams more loudly than ever. So I do not get tattoos."

  Snickering, amused that he was apparently some sort of oddity, Cassidy ignored the ingrained panic that tried to flare up and unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off and setting it carefully aside.

  Whistling, muttering in Spanish a moment, Carlos finally said. "I like them. Very good work. Girls, man. You are lucky you do not date them. They scream about such things. No wonder Malcolm has it so bad for you." He grew suddenly more serious then. "He likes the bad boys, you know. Always has. Except they turn out to be much worse than he would actually likes, you see? Some of them have roughed him up pretty bad; it's why he is so good in a fight, as you have seen. They trash him, his apartments, the one before you tried to go after his pretty little car. Antoine and I, we find them and make certain they stay away for good, you know?"

  Anger shot through Cassidy, hands balling into fists. "Who the fuck hurt him? Why the fuck did you let them live?" He'd break their fucking faces if they tried that crap while he was around. Hell would freeze over before he let anyone else lay a hand on Malcolm.

  Carlos looked at him, then grinned. "I like you. Do not worry; we'll call you if there is someone who needs his ass kicked in regards to Malcolm. You know Mal is already at least half in love with you. Antoine and me, we'll make you regret it if you hurt him in any way. Do not be like the others."

  "I won't," Cassidy said and meant it. He was the greatest of fools, and so in over his head, but he wouldn't walk away until Malcolm told him to get lost. "I'm not going anywhere until Malcolm tells me."

  "Then you had better get used to being around," Carlos replied. "I think he's as likely to tell you to get lost as I am to tell my wife. I will get you another beer, and some food."

  Cassidy nodded, grateful he was left alone, and tried to gather his thoughts. Okay. So whatever vague and half-hearted plans he'd had about extricating himself before it was too late were now totally bust. He swallowed the last of his beer.

  Okay, okay. He could date his millionaire boss. Oh, god, how the hell had he wound up in this mess? He'd asked himself that question five million times already, but so far no answer had appeared. Shit like this didn't happen to him. What crazy ass thing was going to crash into his life next?

  Carlos reappeared just as Cassidy was about to reach full freak out, setting down chips, salsa, guacamole, and more of the dark beer Cassidy liked so much. "So," Carlos said with an evil grin. "Which incredibly
embarrassing childhood story would you like to hear first?"

  Cassidy's mouth twitched, and he made a mental note to never leave his siblings and Malcolm alone together. But he would totally take full advantage of Malcolm's error. "Id' be willing to bet there's at least one story involving Malcolm dressed like a girl."

  In reply, Carlos burst out laughing, slapping the table in amusement. "At least one! My friend, there are dozens. Speaking of Malcolm being a girl—"

  "Finish that sentence, Carlos, and I'll go to the kitchen and tell your wife all sorts of interesting stories about your college days," Malcolm said from the doorway, making Cassidy jump.

  Carlos ignored him. "Did you know, Cass, that Malcolm was offered seventeen different modeling contracts while we were growing? Up through college. Really, it might be more than that, I think he was careful to hide some of them from us. I mean, seventeen! Some of them, we think the scouts believed he was a woman. One of them, he was dressed as a woman at the time. That was—"

  His words were cut off and turned into laughter, as Malcolm yanked Carlos from his seat and more or less threw him out of the room. Malcolm then slammed the door shut and took the seat from which Carlos had been forcibly removed. He glared at Cassidy. "Vile betrayer."

  "I’m not going to pass up a chance to hear all about you in drag," Cassidy said with a grin. "You're probably even prettier when you're dolled up—but for the record, I do prefer you as a boy."

  "Oh, I was pretty certain of that, given the way you beg," Malcolm drawled, smirking when Cassidy flushed.

  Rallying, Cassidy replied, "So was it only seventeen times?

  Malcolm made a face. "No, it was twenty three. If you ever tell anyone that, especially my brothers, I will kill you."

  Cassidy laughed. "It's your own fault, being so damned pretty."

  "Yeah, yeah," Malcolm replied. "So what else did Carlos tell you while I wasn't here to prevent it?"

  "Only that he and Antoine would kill me if I ever hurt you," Cassidy said and drank more beer.

  "I'm going to murder them," Malcolm said, barely unclenching his teeth long enough to get the words out. Then he shot to his feet, yanked the door open, and began bellowing at about fifty decibels in fluid, angry Spanish.

  Cassidy pulled the guacamole closer, stole Malcolm's beer, and watched as Carlos reappeared and the two brothers went about arguing loudly and colorfully.

  Finally, Carlos wandered off again.

  "You guys argue a lot, don't you?"

  Malcolm grinned. "What makes you think that?"

  Cassidy just shook his head. "Speaking of, how is Antoine? I really can go home, if you need to hang with him. He seems pretty upset about Wally. They're pretty good friends, yeah?"

  "Yeah," Malcolm said, turning more serious. "Look, this is top secret, but Wally is getting divorced. He's been with the bitch since he was a sophomore in college, and Antoine has always hated her guts. Antoine wants my help digging up a bit of dirt, shit like that."

  "I won't say anything," Cassidy replied. "So, uh, not that it's any of my business, you can tell me to fuck off. Are Wally and Antoine, uh, just friends?"

  Malcolm downed most of the beer Carlos had left when he'd gotten tossed out. "I dunno. It's the sort of question, if I dare ask, I'll find my face turned into pudding. I think, though, that Antoine has always hated the wife for extremely personal reasons. It'll be interesting to see how the divorce and Wally being single affects everything." He shrugged, then smiled. "But I didn't come here to talk about my brother and his weird ass love life. I came to seduce you."

  "I think we're a bit past that, considering what we did all weekend," Cassidy replied.

  "Yeah," Malcolm said. "I know you're uncomfortable, though, me still being your boss and all. That reminds me of the other reason I wanted to take you to dinner tonight, and why I was in absentia all day."

  Cassidy suddenly felt anxious. "Um…why? Do I want to know?"

  "Dunno. I'm resigning from the company."

  "What! Why? You shouldn't lose your job—"

  Malcolm cut him off with a soft, fond laugh, reaching out to tweak Cassidy's nose. "Let's be honest, Cass. I don't need the money. You asked me yourself why I bother to do it when I'm wealthy. I'd rather have you than this job—let it finally go to someone who could actually use it. There are other things I can do, until I can convince you to run away to the Bahamas or something with me. Okay? So, don't be upset, please? My last day is technically the day of the company picnic. Oh! Speaking of which, they released the name of the band today. I'm sorry you missed it, because you're probably the only other person who knows them. A group called One Butterfly Missing."

  "What?" Cassidy said hoarsely, knocking over his beer when he meant to grab it. "That—no—" Oh, god, they were actually going to be there? He was going to—he couldn't— "I can't go," he said, and stood up, pacing the room, heart near to thudding out of his chest, eyes burning because he couldn't see them but he wanted—and what if they didn't even care or remember him well but they'd changed the name of the band and god he'd have to hear them sing with someone who wasn't him—

  He gave a rough, startled cry as he turned and crashed into something hard, then slid his arms around Malcolm and held tight.

  "Your arm," Malcolm said softly, sinking a hand into his hair, keeping him close, not seeming to notice or care the way Cassidy shook in his arms. "Butterflies. You're the missing butterfly, aren't you?"

  Cassidy only nodded, unable to speak, and held fast to Malcolm as he tried not to think about finally seeing his friends again and not standing with them…

  Chapter Eleven

  Malcolm took one look at the cluster of women in his office, and though briefly that while running like a bat out of hell might not be the better part of valor, it was the better part of staying alive and healthy.

  "Good morning," he said slowly as he stepped into his office, and quickly moved around the desk to put it between him and the Pack. "Can I help you lovely ladies with something?"

  Janice, whom Malcolm always privately thought of as Pack Leader, smiled I her 'I know more than you want me to know' way and said, "We were just worried about Cassidy."

  "Cassidy?" Malcolm asked, not quite certain yet what to think or feel, except that he was fairly certain they were busted. "Why are you worried about Cassidy?"

  Janice snorted, and around her the other half dozen women or so all made similar noises of disbelief. "He's been a bit down the past couple of weeks, and much jumpier than usual—and usual is bad enough."

  "He's fine," Malcolm said, even if that wasn't entirely true. Cassidy had been quietly depressed and stressed as hell ever since learning that One Butterfly Missing was playing at the picnic. Malcolm still wasn't convinced Cassidy would go to the picnic, despite the promise he'd extracted.

  And maybe, just maybe, the interfering he would be doing later that day would begin to put things right, though at the end of it all, it came down to Cassidy.

  "You're not mistreating him, boss? He is a few years younger than you," Carrie said, clucking and resting her head in one hand, eying him. "You're life is probably a bit more colorful than he's used to."

  Malcolm almost started laughing hysterically at that, and he was so tempted to taunt them about failing as know-it-alls—but her first question drew all his attention. "What do you mean, am I mistreating him? Of course I'm not mistreating him. He's an excellent employee, and a good guy, so of course I don't mistreat him."

  "It wasn't as an employee we meant, and you know it," said Betty. "We meant as your boyfriend."

  Malcolm rolled his eyes, and gave up. "How did you even know? For god's sake, don't tell Cass you know, he'll have a heart attack. Not that it's any of your business, but I am not mistreating him."

  "You two haven't been half so subtle as you obviously think," Janice said. "You've been grinning and actually coming to work. He's stopped making sad, wistful eyes at you and sings more often. Have you ever heard him sing boss? He's dr
eamy, there's no other way to say it." She and the rest of the women sighed and smiled.

  "Yes," Malcolm said, carefully not thinking about the few moments when he heard Cassidy sing—catching Cassidy singing in the kitchen while he cooked or cleaned, singing in the car, the shower, and most precious of all were those nights they lay in bed and Cassidy sang just for him.

  Cassidy had looked at him sad and wistful? Huh. He fought a stupid urge to grin like an idiot.

  "Then why is he so distressed, lately?" Janice demanded.

  "One, personal reasons that are none of your business. Two, he can probably sense you're on to him and it makes him tense. He really is scared to death he'll lose his job because he's dating his boss."

  They all rolled their eyes. Connie said, "Please. The one rule no one around here follows is the one about fraternization. Almost all of us would be fired, company president included, if they ever attempted to enforce that rule. He shouldn’t worry."