Girl Who Played with Fire, The - Stieg Larsson [47]
Besides her studies, Mimmi had a job one day a week as a sales clerk at Domino Fashion on a street off Sveavägen. Customers desperate for outfits such as a rubber nurse’s uniform or black leather witch’s garb frequented Domino, which both designed and manufactured the clothes. Mimmi was part owner of the boutique with some girlfriends, and the shop provided a modest supplement to her student loan of a few thousand kronor each month. Salander had first seen Mimmi when she performed in a show at the Gay Pride Festival a couple of years before and then ran into her in a beer tent later that night. Mimmi had been dressed in an odd lemon yellow plastic dress that revealed more than it concealed. Salander saw nothing erotic about the outfit, but she had been drunk enough to suddenly want to pick up a girl dressed like a lemon. To Salander’s great surprise the citrus fruit had taken one look at her, laughed out loud, kissed her without embarrassment, and said You’re the one I want. They had gone back to Salander’s place and had sex all night long.
“I am what I am,” Salander said. “I ran away from everything and everybody. I should have said goodbye.”
“I thought something had happened to you. Not that we had been in touch that much in the last months you were here.”
“I was busy.”
“You’re such a mystery. You never talk about yourself. I don’t even know where you work or who I could have called when you didn’t answer your mobile.”
“I’m not working anywhere right now, and besides, you’re just like me. You wanted sex but you weren’t particularly interested in a relationship. Or were you?”
“That’s true,” Mimmi said at last.
“And it was the same with me. I never made any promises.”
“You’ve changed,” Mimmi said.
“Not a lot.”
“You look older. More mature. You have different clothes. And you’ve stuffed your bra with something.”
Salander said nothing. Mimmi had seen her naked—of course she would notice the change. In the end she lowered her eyes and mumbled, “I had a boob job.”
“What did you say?”
Salander looked up and raised her voice, unaware that it had taken on a defiant tone.
“I went to a clinic in Italy and had breast implants. That’s why I disappeared. Then I just kept on travelling. Now I’m back.”
“Are you joking?”
Salander looked at Mimmi, expressionless.
“Stupid of me. You never joke about anything, Mr. Spock.”
“I’m not going to apologize. I’m just being honest. If you want me to leave, just say the word.”
Mimmi laughed out loud. “Well, I certainly don’t want you to leave without letting me see how they look. Please.”
“I’ve always liked having sex with you, Mimmi. You didn’t give a damn what sort of work I did, and if I was busy you found somebody else.”
Mimmi nodded. When she was seventeen, after a number of fumbling attempts, she was finally initiated into the mysteries of sex at a party organized in Göteborg by the Swedish Federation for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Rights. She had never considered any other lifestyle after that. Once when she was twenty-three she had tried having sex with a man. She mechanically did everything she was expected to do, but it was not enjoyable. She also belonged to the minority within the minority who were not interested in marriage or fidelity or cosy evenings at home.
“I’ve been home for a few weeks. I needed to know if I had to go out and pick somebody up or if you’re still interested.”
Mimmi bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“I was thinking of studying tonight.”
She unbuttoned the top button of Lisbeth’s blouse.
“But what the hell…”
She kissed her again and kept unbuttoning.
“I just have to see this.”
She kissed her again.
“Welcome back.”
• • •
Harriet Vanger fell asleep around 2:00 a.m. Blomkvist lay awake listening to her breathing. After a while he got up and filched a Dunhill from the pack in her handbag. He sat in a chair next to the bed and looked at her.
He had not planned to become Harriet Vanger’s lover. Far from it. After his time in Hedestad he wanted more than anything to keep the whole Vanger family