Free The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchison Page A

I’d rather eye-fuck the old man.”
    We stayed in the kitchen, chatting and making up gossip about the guests, until the presentation’s intermission, when we circulated with refills and bottles of wine and dessert trays. At the host’s table, I got a good look at Hope’s old man and his son. Right away I knew what she meant about the son. He was handsome, well-muscled and good-featured, with dark brown eyes and his father’s dark blond hair, which looked good against his tanned skin.
    Even if the tan looked a little fake.
    It was something deeper than that, though, a cruelty that showed through in his otherwise charming smile, the way he watched all of us as we moved through the room. Next to him, his father was simply charming, with an easy smile that thanked us all wordlessly for our efforts. He stopped me with two fingers against my wrist, not too familiar, not threatening. “That’s a lovely tattoo, my dear.”
    I glanced down to the slit in my skirt. All of us in the apartment, even Kathryn, had gone out together and gotten matching tattoos a few months before, something we still found absurd and couldn’t quite figure out why we’d done it, except that most of us had been a bit tipsy and Hope nagged us until we gave in. It was on the outside of my right ankle, just above the bone, and it was an elegant thing of sweeping black lines. Hope had picked it out. Sophia, the other sober one, argued against the butterfly, because it was overdone and so damn typical, but Hope didn’t budge. She was a freaking honey badger when she wanted to be; she called it a tribal butterfly. Normally we had to keep tattoos covered up with clothing or make-up for work, but because of the event theme, Guilian had said we could leave them uncovered.
    “Thank you.” I poured the sparkling wine into his glass.
    “Are you fond of butterflies?”
    Not particularly, but that didn’t seem a bright thing to mention given the theme of his party. “They’re beautiful.”
    “Yes, but like most beautiful creatures, very short-lived.” His pale green eyes traveled from the tattoo on my ankle up my body until he could smile into my eyes. “It is not just your tattoo that’s lovely.”
    I made a note to tell Hope that the old man was as creepy as his son. “Thank you, sir.”
    “You seem young to be working in a restaurant like this.”
    One thing no one had ever said to me was that I seemed too young for something. I stared at him a moment too long, saw some kind of satisfaction flicker in his pale eyes. “Some of us are older than our years,” I said finally, and promptly cursed myself. The last thing I needed was a wealthy customer convincing Guilian I was lying about my age.
    He didn’t say anything when I moved on to the next glass, but I felt his eyes on me all the way back to the kitchen.
    During the second half of the presentation, I snuck back to the locker room to dig a tampon out of my purse, but when I turned to leave for the bathroom, the son was standing in the doorway. He was maybe in his mid-twenties, but alone in a small room with him, he definitely gave off a more experienced vibe of menace. I didn’t generally credit Hope with being too perceptive, but she was right, there was something really wrong with this guy.
    “I’m sorry, but this is a staff-only area.”
    He ignored me, still blocking the doorway as one hand reached out to flick the edge of one of the wings. “My father has exquisite taste, don’t you think?”
    “Sir, you need to leave. This is not a customer area.”
    “I know you’re supposed to say that.”
    “And I say it too.” Kegs, one of the busboys, shouldered him roughly out of the way. “I know the owner would be sorry to make you leave the restaurant, but he’ll do it without regret if you don’t rejoin your party.”
    The stranger looked him over, but Kegs was tall and burly and perfectly capable of slinging people around like beer kegs, hence the name. With a scowl, the stranger