The Clinic by Cate Quinn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Cate Quinn
- Language: English
- Genre: Amateur Sleuth Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.3 MB
- Price: Free
MEG
The high-roller pits in Luckie’s Casino have fancier bathrooms than any LA
five-star hotel. And at 3:00 a.m., no one is in here but me, leaning over the
crisp square lines of the porcelain sink.
The girl looking back at me in the gold-tiled mirror needs some work.
She’s altogether too neat and groomed with her blond chignon, professional
makeup, and designer shoes.
Sliding a package of white powder from my bra, I tap the tiniest dab
neatly under my nose and another little touch to my black cocktail dress.
Taking in the effect, I take an eyedropper from my purse and drip the
contents fast into both blue eyes.
“Shit!” I recoil reflexively, grabbing my face, hunched over. I uncurl,
wincing. My pupils have dilated to double the size. One of my colored
contact lenses has slipped, revealing a half-moon of deep-green iris. I nudge
the lens back and take a breath before tidying my smudged mascara enough
to show I’ve tried. A little spritz of water to make my forehead look sweaty,
and a few strands pulled from the neat wig covering my own dark, wavy
hair. The girl in the mirror is drug fueled. Wired. She’s perfect.
“Showtime,” I tell her.
The casino floor looks different through my bloodshot eyes. Golden
palm trees are blurry. I scan the crowded pits of high rollers.
As I return to the table, I see it. The slight relaxing of the body language
of the two men I’m playing against.
“Hey, Francine,” says Charlie, the guy I lost two grand to an hour ago.
“Powdering your nose?”
I wipe self-consciously with the edge of a knuckle. Charlie is an oily
little man with a loan shark for a boss. He’s probably been shuffling poker
cards since he was old enough to shake a can for dimes on skid row. Same
as me. Give or take.
“Gotta stay sharp for y’all,” I tell him with my best country-girl twang.
“Win it all back.”
The dealer gives us the nod. “Ready?”
“Sure.” I beam. “Let’s play.”
He slides out cards. Three each. I pull mine up, feeling the eyes on me,
waiting for the tell. I flatten the cards back a little too quickly before
breaking a wide smile.
“I’m in,” I say.
Charlie eyes me. “You know,” he says slowly, “you remind me of
someone.” He thinks some more. “That girl.” He clicks his fingers. “What’s
her name? That country singer. Haley. Haley Banks. The party girl.”
“Yeah?”
Took you long enough, asshole. I’ve been channeling my messed-up
sister all night.
My whole life I’ve been compared unfavorably to Haley. She was the
blond, blue-eyed princess; I was dark. She got lithe little curves; I grew up
wiry. There are similarities though. Arched brows and an elf-like slant to
our eyes and cheekbones. A certain disregard for the rules and an ability
with accents.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I frown at the table. “I’m in.”
“I’m gonna do you a favor,” Charlie says. “How ’bout I give you a
chance to win everything back? Double or quits.”
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