Page 130 of Mayhem and Minnie

“I love her, Marlowe! Cookies, hear that.” She continues laughing.

“But it’s true!” Minnie protests. “Cookies are really the bestest.”

“I can’t fault you there, darling. Cookies are the best.” My mother chuckles.

Meanwhile, the female server comes to our room to get our order and brings over a bottle of red wine. I decline, but Minnie regards the bottle longingly, so I encourage her to have some.

“I’ve never had any before,” she whispers as she takes her glass with both hands and takes her first sip. My mother, too, sips her wine slowly as she studies Minnie and me.

“How is it?” I ask her.

She smacks her lips together a couple of times before she gives me a thumbs-down.

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it!” she exclaims, then proceeds to take another big gulp.

Smiling, I grab her hands and change the position of her thumbs so they’re pointing upward. It takes her a moment to realize she got it wrong, after which she chuckles and moves her thumbs up around in my direction, then my mother’s.

I shake my head at her antics, but she’s too cute, so I don’t mind it. Not one bit.

My mother doesn’t seem to, either. In fact, she seems to like Minnie, which makes my chest tight with emotion. I didn’t realize how much her approval meant until now, but to know that she also likes her carries a lot of weight.

“So tell me then, Minnie. What do you like about my Marlowe? Aside from the fact that he buys you cookies.”

Minnie is still gulping down her wine, finishing her glass and leaning over the table to grab the bottle and fill it up again.

I hope she’s not a lightweight.

“Easy,” I murmur softly.

She gives me a brilliant smile and I don’t have it in me to stop her as she starts sipping on her wine again.

“I like everything about him,” she declares. My eyes widen. “Aside from the fact that he cheated on me,” she mutters in a sour voice as she slams the once-more-empty glass on the table.

“W-what?” I sputter.

I cheated on her?

When? How? With whom?

“Marlowe cheated on you?” my mother exclaims, horrified. “Are we talking about the same Marlowe? How could he have cheated on you when he’s never so much as looked at a woman before?” She turns to me. “Marlowe, explain yourself!”

Before I can recover from my shock, Minnie speaks.

“He”—she points at me—“was a hoe. His body score is over a hundred!”

She gives me a disgruntled glare and it’s like we’re back to square one.

I stare at her in disbelief. She’s still hung up on that? I thought we moved on from it, for fuck’s sake. Haven’t I already endured days of torturous silence and scathing indifference because of it?

Now looking back, I regret making that joke since it continues to follow me around like a hungry ghost.

“I’m appalled that he’d do something like that,” Minnie continues. “I’ve been pining for him for so long, only for him to do something like this to me?” She stifles a sob.

What the fuck?

Pining?

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