53
" Thankfully, Gabriel was five minutes late, and by the time he knocked on the door I’d just finished putting on lipstick and slipping my feet into sandals. I opened the door.
“I hope I didn’t keep you wait . . .” His voice drifted off as he quite blatantly checked me out.
“What?” I asked, hand on my hip.
He flashed me a devilish grin. “The little pink dress. You look cute.”
What I found frumpy, he found cute. Wonder what his response would have been to the tight number. My eyes gave him a discreet once-over. He wore jeans and a Yankees T-shirt. It wasn’t exactly going to win over the locals, but I had to admit, he filled the shirt out ridiculously well. His short black hair was damp, like he’d just taken a shower. I felt my face behind to flush, so I turned away. “Come on in.”
He stopped and surveyed the foyer. “I was only here for a minute when we came to get Joni. I didn’t get a chance to check the place out.” He paused. “It’s not what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting? Voodoo dolls hung from the ceiling?”
He smirked. “Maybe just a little one of me.”
“That’s hidden under my bed. "
― Kim Harrington , Clarity (Clarity, #1)
54
" I squeezed through a horde of gum-snapping girls I recognized as seniors from my school.
“He did not say that!”
“Yes, he did! And you wouldn’t believe what she said!”
Please, someone tell me I wouldn’t be that annoying if I had girlfriends.
“Sure, you will be.”
I whipped around and nearly got a faceful of cotton candy. I moved the purple sugar cloud to the side and glared at my mother. She wore a white, short-sleeved blouse and a patchwork skirt.
“You have to stop listening in on my thoughts without my permission, Mom. It’s not cool.”
She shoved a piece of cotton candy in my mouth to shut me up. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Clarity. I was strolling along listening in to the crowd.”
“Pick up anything interesting?”
“Actually, I did. That detective’s son can’t stop checking out your legs. He loves this little pink dress you’ve got on. So much so that he’s actually mad at himself for it.” She shook her head.
I blushed. “Did you happen to pick up anything important?”
“Like a man walking along thinking, ‘I killed Victoria Happel’?”
“Exactly.”
“No such luck. But dear, people don’t wander around thinking about their biggest secrets all the time. The killer could be standing right next to me and all I might pick up from him is how he wants to buy some barbequed chicken.”
“Have you seen Billy Rawlinson or Frankie Creedon?” I asked.
Distaste turned her mouth down. “No. Why are you looking for those scoundrels?”
“Billy might be a witness in the case. Or a suspect.”
“I’ll keep my eyes out and my mind open.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Enjoy invading everyone’s privacy. "
― Kim Harrington , Clarity (Clarity, #1)
57
" Then, suddenly, a shadowy flash came to me. Tiffany, taking an order, arguing with a girl. Shockingly, not me. Another flash, of Detective Toscano walking into Yummy’s minutes ago. Tiffany nervously kneading a coaster between her fingers. The coaster I held in my hands right now.
Tiffany was scared.
Why was she scared of the cop?
“Hey! Space shot! You want your Coke or not?”
I tried to ignore Tiffany’s screeching and hold on to the vision, but it blurred and disappeared. I grabbed my new glass from her outstretched hand.
“I heard you got into an argument last night,” I said.
Tiffany paled, which I never thought possible since her skin was so fake-and-bake tan. She nervously twirled a lock of her bleach blond hair around her finger. “Where did you hear that?”
“Doesn’t matter where I heard it.” I took a chance and added, “But it was pretty juicy gossip, considering who she was.”
Tiffany’s pale face turned to green and I involuntarily took a step back ,half expecting an Exorcist-style stream of vomit to shoot out of her gaping mouth. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Get away from me,” she growled.
And then it became clear. My flash of her argument. Her fear of the detective. She’d argued with the girl who was murdered last night. And she did not want Detective Toscano to find out about it.
I stepped away from the bar, giddy with my new knowledge. I had the upper hand on Tiffany Desposito. I could torture her with this. Drag it out. Hold it over her head for days, even weeks.
“It’s too bad you’re not with Justin anymore,” she said to my back. “He’s a cutie. And such a good kisser.”
And that was my limit.
I spun around and dumped my brand-new Coke over her head. She shrieked and flailed her hands as the liquid streamed over her face and down between her giant boobs. She peeled her sticky hair off her eyes and snarled, “I’ll get you for this.”
I merely smiled, then sauntered over to the two Toscanos, who had apparently been watching this whole display with entertained grins on their faces.
“You’re the new detective?” I asked the elder Toscano.
He nodded. Either his mouth was too full with French fries or he was too scared of me to speak at the moment.
“Tiffany Desposito, the wet and sticky waitress over there? She had a fight with the girl who was murdered. Last night, at this restaurant. You should question her right away. I wouldn’t even give her a chance to go home and shower first. I think she’s a flight risk.”
I strolled back to my booth, sat down, and tore into my pancakes, happy as a kid on Christmas. Nate and Perry stared at me in silence for a few moments.
Then Perry said, “Maybe you should have let me go over.”
Nate shook his head. “Nah. She did just fine. "
― Kim Harrington , Clarity (Clarity, #1)
59
" Now Justin stood in our reading room, leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was tall, with a wiry athletic build. Usually, he was Mr. Ultra-Casual, with sun-kissed blond hair that he kept out of his eyes by pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead. Today, that messy blond hair was clean-cut, and he’d traded his typical board shorts and loose T-shirt for a striped shirt and khakis. His father, the mayor of Eastport, was running for re-election. Since the campaign started last month, Justin had become the mayor’s sixteen-year-old sidekick. I’d heard he was spending the summer working for his dad down at the town hall, which would explain the nice clothes. What sucked for me was that the new style fit him. He looked even better, the jerk.
“I heard you and Tiffany got into a catfight over me at Yummy’s,” Justin announced with an overconfident grin that pissed me off.
I slammed the door behind me. “First off, I dumped a soda over her head. That was it.”
“Damn, a catfight sounded much hotter. I was picturing ripped shirts, exposed skin.”
I rolled my eyes. “And second, it wasn’t over you, egomaniac. You can date every girl in town as far as I’m concerned. I hate you. I pray every night that you’ll fall victim to some strange and unusual castration accident.” I pointed to the door. “So get the hell out.”
His lips twitched, fighting a smile.
Ugh. I was going for “crazy ex filled with hate” not “isn’t she cute when she’s mad?”
“Feel better after getting all that out? "
― Kim Harrington , Clarity (Clarity, #1)
60
" Clare,” said a voice behind me. Not Nate’s, but just as familiar.
“I’ll get going,” Nate said, backing up. “If you see the dumbass, tell him I’m mad at him for standing me up.”
I turned around.
“The dumbass?” Justin asked.
“Yes, you’re not the only one in town. Who knew?”
He smiled. Every time I tried to hurt him, he just smiled. I’d have to try harder.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, looking me up and down. “You wore that dress on the picnic we took in the spring. Remember, it was the first warm day of the season . . .” His voice trailed off.
“I’d love to wax nostalgic, Justin, but I’ve got work to do. "
― Kim Harrington , Clarity (Clarity, #1)
