Page 97 of Mayhem and Minnie

She likes sweet things. When she broke into the first store, she stole a bunch of packs of chocolate cookies. When she broke into the second place, she stole the clothes she was wearing when I first met her. And in the third case…

She couldn’t have beat those men up, that’s for sure.

But her frequent sightings around the movie theater, especially at night when the cameras wouldn’t record tell me one thing—she was sleeping in the movie theater.

But these are just a few cases in which she happened to be named a person of interest because she happened to be nearby. Who knows how many more times she did this before and was never caught on camera? She’s been living on the streets for a long time by her own admission.

A smile spreads up my lips.

My little heathen is smart. Very, very smart. And potentially a criminal.

And while she lied about her identity and her past, I’m not even mad. If she can hack into CCTV feeds like that, then she must be a hell of a hacker.

Enthusiasm bubbles inside of me.

I’ve never felt like this before. Like I might finally have an equal—someone I could go up against but also share my thoughts with. Someone who would understand.

Ah, but the things we could do together… The chaos we could create…

Minnie, Minnie. My lovely little liar.

You’re lucky I’ve developed a fondness for your brand of deceit—and your unmatched cooking skills.

Now I just need to lure her in until she reveals everything by herself. After all, what’s the fun in confronting her when the chase will prove to be so much more exciting?

Yet until then, I’ll have to throw my mother off her trail. That wretched dinner is in just two days, and I have no doubt she’ll ask Minnie all sorts of questions which she’ll then go on to try to corroborate.

My mother might be the more sentimental of the two of us, but she’s just as careful and shrewd as I am.

After closing my computer, I head downstairs.

Minnie is in the kitchen preparing lunch.

As soon as I step inside, the mouthwatering scent hits my nostrils and I gulp down.

I don’t know what the hell she puts in those dishes of hers, but after eating her food for almost two weeks, I might even believe her when she says it’s magic.

I can’t explain it otherwise. Every single thing she’s made has been perfect. It’s gotten to the point that I got rid of the recipe sheet I gave her on the first day and instead instructed her to cook whatever she wants.

In fact, maybe it is magic because the only explanation for my obsession with her entire persona is that she bewitched me. How else can I justify my unnatural interest in all things her? How else can I justify this change in my behavior that’s absolutely unprecedented?

“What are you making?”

She doesn’t turn to look at me. Her attention is on the stove as she watches the sauce simmer.

“Lentil curry,” she answers in a dull voice.

I suppose the first thing I need to do before she reveals her true self to me is to get back into her good graces. And I think I know just the thing that might…sweeten her a little—literally.

“Is it done?”

“In five minutes. But it will have to cool down,” she mentions, still not looking at me.

I wait the requisite five minutes. When she turns off the stove, I tell her.

“Come.”

That’s when she finally turns.

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