Page 8 of Copper

“What do you want to know?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron drops his hand and puts his hand on his chest again. “You’ll help me?”

“I ain’t doing any Nancy Drew shit. Don’t ask for that, but I’ll tell you what I know.”

He nods and smiles, clearing his throat. He gestures back to the couch. “No blow job tonight, Lucy. Just sit with me and tell me what you know. Please.”

I put my hands on my hips and chew on my bottom lip before walking to the loveseat I never get to sit on – I usually straddle it or kneel in front of it – and gently sit on the fabric, careful not to touch too much of the upholstery. I’ve seen way too many men come on this furniture.

Aaron claps his hands together like it’s Christmas and sits next to me. He places his hands in his lap like he’s a consummate professional and has never touched me in his life. His thigh touches mine but only because the seat is small. “What can you tell me about Murphy Beckett?”

“He’s my cousin.”

I wish I would have had my phone out to take a picture of my ex-boyfriend’s face. It almost makes me laugh, and I press my lips in a thin line to force my smile down. He flinches back and furrows his brow. His mouth opens like he wants to protest the situation. “True fact,” I add.

“Wha-how? I met your family, Lucy, and I’d remember if you were related to that dick.”

“I see you’ve met him.” I wave my hand. “Relax. He’s my cousin by marriage. I don’t share DNA with him. Beck’s mother and Murphy’s father are siblings. Beck? Beckett? Get it?”

He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. Is Peter his cousin too? Is that why he comes in?”

“No. Peter’smycousin. I don’t like saying it too loud, but I actually share a set of grandparents with that slimy bastard. Murphy comes here because it’s the only strip club within a fifty-mile radius unless you want to go into Chicago on a Wednesday afternoon.”

The relief that Peter’s not fronting Murphy’s motorcycle club bullshit out of some sense of family loyalty is etched on Aaron’s face. His cheeks relax, and he takes a deep breath.

I yearn to run my hand down his cheek and let him lean into my palm, but I keep my hands in my lap. He’s not mine to touch. I’ve only touched him in the club when he’s paid me. If I touch him outside of a simple business transaction, I don’t know if I’ll stop. I’ll want to touch him all the time. No, it’s better if I continue this silly business of touching him only when he pays. It’s better for both of us.

I mean, a cop and a stripper together? Talk about damning his next election.

“Is he running drugs through here?”

“Yes.” I hold my hands up. “Peter doesn’t know. He wouldn’t allow that shit. Don’t take it out on him.”

“What kind?” Aaron asks, reaching for his back pocket. He brings out his phone and opens a note-taking app.

I shrug. “You know I never tried any of that shit. I wouldn’t know a crack pipe from a plumber’s pipe, Aaron.”

“What does it look like?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble, staring at the wall across from me and trying to remember. “Small, white baggies. Kind of tan and white color for the powder.”

“Are pills coming through?”

“Yeah. They’re usually green and round.”

Aaron blows out a breath. “Fentanyl. Is he using the girls here?”

I smirk and bat my eyes. “What’s your definition of use?”

Aaron blushes, probably thinking of shit stain Murphy Beckett using the other women the same way as he uses me, thus putting them on the same level of turd. “Does he use girls to recruit other girls to his, well, his sex business?”

“Is he a pimp? Just ask the question, Aaron. We both know you’re not a shy virgin. I took care of that for you a long time ago.”

“Is he pimping out the women that work here?”

“Possibly. I see them hand him or his men cash sometimes. I don’t know if it’s for the drugs or tips from lap dancing. I think it’s for lap dancing since it’s done on the main floor, but I’m not sure. I honestly don’t know and don’t talk much here. I don’t have friends in the back.”

“You’d have to be a hundred percent sure for me to pursue that. Can you start watching?”

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