Page 80 of Whiskey Wednesdays

He gave Martina’s ass a small pat, and she narrowed her eyes.

Zeke shrugged. “They sound similar. Isn’t that a Van Halen album title? I still think ‘shit’ is ‘theshit’ but I can see your point about ‘fuck.’ I mean, the base meaning of the wordisfucking awesome.”

Harley and Laurel groaned.

Sebastian pointed to Connor and Titus. “Do you two fuckers want your whiskey straight, on the rocks, or in a Manhattan?”

“Straight. Thanks,” Connor smirked.

“Straight, and I’ll take two fingers,” Titus added. When he got his drink, he took a sip. “It’s the utility word of our generation. Fuck can be used as almost any part of speech–a noun, verb, adverb, or adjective. And just the way you say the word gives it meaning.”

Martina glanced back at Iz. “That’s true. My favorite is ‘fuck off’, or maybe ‘mother fucker.’”

Iz winked. “I personally enjoy the verb form the most. The act of fornicating in its purest, dirtiest, form.”

Iz’s voice was a low, rumbling purr. Martina breathed heavily as she stared up at him.

Harley snorted and turned to Zeke. “It’s probably good my sister, Olivia, isn’t here. She’d add ‘fucked up’, ‘fuckhead’, ‘fucktwit’ and ‘fucking nuts’ to our growing list.”

Zeke smiled a little. “Yeah, I’d like to hear her input on this conversation. There are all the acronyms too. Like FUBAR, WTF, SNAFU, or my personal favorite, MILF.”

I set my drink down and patted Connor’s stomach. “You’re my favorite DILF,” I said quietly in his ear.

He grinned and grabbed my hand, then licked the inside of my palm. My vagina spasmed.

Martina held up a finger. “There’s also just TF, BFD, or OMFG. And FFS, or GTFO. This is all FYFI.”

Laurel shook her head. “What does that say about me that I understood all those?”

Martina smirked. “It means we’re part of the texting generation.”

“My ears are bleeding,” Damien groaned.

Harley patted Damien’s shoulder. “I’ll end our litany with ‘holy fucking shit’, I can’t believe we’re having another one of these conversations. And that brings it back full circle to the shit conversation. Let’s end it here.”

Just then Ramone and Jonathan walked in with a beautiful appetizer tray.

Ramone set it on the counter and looked around. “Sorry we’re late. What’d we miss?”

Zeke held up his glass. “Not a fucking thing.”

I’d just sipped my Manhattan, and some of my drink sloshed down my chin when I laughed. Connor grabbed a napkin and patted my face. I smiled up at him, then looked around at my new friends. Life was pretty great.

Chapter 22

My life sucks, I thought as I stared down at my car on Tuesday afternoon. When I’d walked out to the arena parking lot, I saw my front tires had been slashed and someone had scratched the words “whore” and “cunt” into the driver-side door of my car.

Anger and fear swam through me as I looked at the damage. Quickly scanning the lot, I pulled out my phone in case whoever did this was still around. I didn’t see anyone. Letting out a breath, I tried to think.

Dad would be picking Elodie up from school, and Connor was… I actually didn’t know where he was. I could text Jackson or Titus, but they’d probably call Connor. And I didn’t want to drag Connor into my problems. So I called a local tire store and talked to the man on the phone.

“Ma’am, unless you have two spares I’d recommend getting a tow truck to bring your car over, and we can change the tires out for you.”

“Okay. Any idea how much a tow truck would be?” When he told me a ballpark figure, I blanched. “Well, that gives me some ideas. Thanks.”

“One more thing. If you were my sister or wife, I’d tell you to call the police and make a report. It seems targeted.”

“I think you’re right,” I sighed. “They scratched two crude words into the paint on my door too.”

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