“Am I that translucent?”
My aunt shrugs one shoulder. “I’m a cop. I read people. I’m also your surrogate mother, so yes, you’re as clear as a piece of glass.”
“Damn.”
“So what’s the issue?” She pours some cream into her coffee and stirs.
“We work together.”
She stops mid-stir. Not a good sign. “I would advise not to do it.”
“Because he’s a manwhore?” There’s no point in beating around the bush; she knows exactly whom I’m talking about. He was practically humping me in front of her the other night.
“There’s that, yes.” She purses her lips. “But, honey, I think you should steer clear of all the bikers in this town. Even if they are a doctor.”
That response sounds more like the detective talking than my aunt.
“Why are you suddenly changing your tune?” I probe. “You were telling me to offer myself up on a silver platter the other night.”
She glances around the room. It’s barely seven a.m., and the place is virtually empty.
“Someone has been dealing dirty drugs,” she relays in a low tone. “Seven ODs in the last month alone. Bad heroin with the same insignia on the bag. A motorcycle wheel. We’re trying to find the source.”
“And you think it’s a local?”
She shrugs. “You know this place; drugs run rampant through all the trailer park compounds. It’s easy to distribute low-quality, high-priced junk to a community of crackheads.”
“I saw it every day I worked in the ER. Drug addiction and motorcycle accidents were the main attraction.” It’s part of the reason I became a per diem nurse. I liked the action, but the severity of every injury started to weigh on me. Too much blood and bad reminders.
“So you understand why I’m telling you this?” she asks.
I nod.
“I would hate for you to get wrapped up in anything, even if it was only by association.”
“Well, you make a compelling argument to sway me to the no side,” I contemplate.
“But?” She sips her coffee, peering at me over the rim of the chipped white cup.
“No but,” I lie.
“Clear as glass,” she reminds me.
I huff. “I’m definitely attracted to him.”
“I can see why. Young, good looking, smart . . . And he doesn’t have a record.”
“How do you know what? Did you do a background check?”
“After the way I saw you two the other night, I thought it couldn’t hurt.”
“Seriously?” I splay my hands on the tabletop.
“I’m basically your mother. It’s my job to protect you.”
“You mean overprotect me?”
“However you want to interpret it.” She smirks darkly.
