"What the fuck do you know?"
I thought it was a good question. What made me think that I had answers to anything? I hardly had my life in order but then I've never been knifed or dated someone hooked on blow.
...
"Tell her what we were talking about"
Maybe he didn't think I would be bold enough to say it but the words were his, not mine, and he meant nothing to me so I repeated the words that he told to me to her.
"What, that you think she doesn't have as good a body as *the other bartender*?"
I was surprised by her initial reaction which was nothing other than walking away after a pause and when she came back she started the ensuing hell storm off slow but before too long I was brushing brimstone off my shirt sleeve.
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