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“You know, maybe being a Marine would’ve been overrated,” I said with a shrug. “They were a hard crew. Especially a hard-swearing crew. My God, the things that used to come out of these fuckers’ mouths. You would’ve hated it.”
“No way. I would have been great at the swearing part. I started practicing.”
“You practiced swearing?”
“Sure as shit, I did,” he said confidently. “I had to make up for hating beer somehow. I wanted to fit in. So yeah. I practiced cursing. I got pretty good at it too.”
“I’m sure.”
“So did you, by the way.”
I sighed. I knew it. It was one of the bad habits I’d picked up in the service.
“I always try to watch it in polite company.”
“Since when am Ipolite company?” he asked with mock indignation.
“Come on, Luke.”
“You really feel like you have to watch yourself around me? You used to be able to say anything in front of me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Also, you’ve saidfuck,like, thirty times since you got in my car,” he said.
“Fuckslips out from time to time,” I explained. “But trust me, if I really got going, I could make you blush.”
“Try me.”
“Huh?”
“Give me your best cursing out,” he demanded.
“I don’t think we need to do that.”
“Come on. I want to see if I can keep up with the professional. I got really fucking good at it.”
“Throwing afuckin every other word is amateur hour.”
“So show me how it’s done. I feel like you’re stalling,” he taunted. “Unless you’re chicken.”
I took another few sips of my beer. Fine.
“Call me a chicken again,” I goaded.
“Sorry, I was just joshing you.”
“No, no, no,” I told him. “Call me a chicken again. It’ll get me started.”
“Fine. You’re being a chicken, Cindy. I can tell you’re bluffing. You’re…”
“You think I’m a chicken, you limp-dicked, cunt-licking fuckwad?”
“Whoa.”
“I’m not done, ass-eating motherfucker.”
Luke cracked a smile and started laughing.
