Page 40 of Wynter

“You’re not just going to starve me, are you?” Mini whines.

“Fine.” I groan. “Give me your phone.”

“Didn’t bring it.”

“So what were you doing all day?”

“Using your laptop?” Mini examines her nails, but they’re not even manicured, so I get the sense it’s just for show. “What? Snowball gave me the password.”

“So you can actually talk to him?” Snowball growls. “I mean, her.”

“Sure.” Mini sighs. “She says you’re all right. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” I frown down at my pet. Then I realize I’m actually buying Mini’s crazy.

“Sometimes you don’t get her enough raw meat.” Mini shrugs. “Speaking of which, she’s drooling. I couldn’t find anything to feed her this morning, so the poor thing’s starving.”

Mini goes to grab my laptop while I glance down at my pet. Who isn’t drooling so much as foaming at the mouth.

“Good girl,” I tell her, trying it on for size. She starts to purr.

Mini picks up my laptop and types in my password. Which is a random sequence of letters and numbers that only I know. What? I’ve seen enough people get hacked to know better.

Except thinking about passwords has me thinking about Xavi, which has me scowling, which has Mini scooting to the opposite side of the couch. “There wasn’t much else to do around here,” she protests. “And all that stuff about the agency was pretty cool.”

“You read my emails? My encrypted emails?”

“Snowball said I should. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“If you did, they would have to kill you,” I tell her.

“Is she serious?” Mini glances at Snowball and then blanches. “Okay, I really won’t say anything. But you know what I don’t get?”

“What?”

“They’re offering a lot of money if you go back. Much more than Wes pays.”

“They are,” I say absently as Mini hands me my laptop and I open Screech.

“And a lot of perks,” she adds.

“If you ignore the life expectancy, and the crazies, it’s an okay job.” I start adding food to my cart. “But it’s no Cleanly Den.”

“I get that,” Mini says.

“You do?” I submit the order, with extra pasta for Mini, and turn to her. “You understand why I quit the agency?”

“No. But I get the whole money thing.” She shrugs. “My mom’s been buying me off since I turned eight. She got me a pool for lying to Daddy.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yeah. Messed up childhood.” She shrugs and gets to her feet. “Hey, you got a hairbrush I can borrow?”

I nod. “Bathroom.”

Mini doesn’t come back until the food arrives. Either it takes that much work to untangle her beehive, or she’s purposely avoiding me. But the moment there’s a knock on the door, she pops out of nowhere, tells my fuzzy to stay, and opens the door.

“Hey there, Zoemyster.” Riley Storm, my sometimes friend, squeezes past Minerva and looks around my living room.