Read Fall Guy for Free Online Page B

million more, I'd feel pretty damn sorry for myself.
    But there is one bright spot in my week.
    The irony of my situation doesn’t escape me. The girl who used to be the life of the wildest parties, now excited to go to community service?
    But, of course, it’s not nearly as wholesome and simple as it sounds.
    I get out of the shower early Saturday morning and dress in a hurry . I pull out the pair of j eans with the blue backside, turn them in my hands , and c ontemplate the person I’ve been looking forward to seeing all week long .
    The crackling paint is a dirty sky blue, so far from the deep blue of Winch's eyes, it seems impossible they're in the same color realm. No amount of scrubbing would get that paint out, and Gramma is completely perplexed about why I don't just toss them.
    "Sweetie, they are useless. I wouldn't even want you to work in the garden in them." She shakes her head and clucks her tongue at the stain Winchester Yougblood delivered with his paint roller while I run a hand over that crackly blue dried paint and resist the urge to smile like a fool.
    I pop a kiss on her cheek to hide my grin.
    " Gramma , when do I ever work in the garden? I'm doing this community service thing for weeks, though. It's probably not a bad idea to have a pair of work pants for next time."
    Even work demands style, as far as my Gramma is concerned.
    "Bad enough they have you doing all that work when we pay taxes to feed and support the incarcerated while they laze around like they're living in the lap of luxury. They should be giving this heavy labor to the criminals and letting you kids volunteer with the arts or at schools or religious institutions. It's ridiculous. And if you have to go, you can at least look clean and neat."
    Her silver bob sways forward and backward with her nod of conviction.
    I put on a clean pair to mollify her , kiss her and Granddaddy , and fly to my car, ready for the day, eager as a kid at athe beach ignoring the burn of the hot sand on her feet in her haste to get to the waves .
    Eager for a day of muscle-tiring, bone-deep , ache-inducing labor in some old dump.
    With Winch.
    Brenna texts me.
     
    Brenna : Ready for your date with cri minally hot McHottie ?!?! Get it?! It's a pun! Get it?
    Me : You're such a dork. And don't be a halfwit. I told you about the guy at the park.
    Brenna : I can smell a lie, miss! Are you rushing to see him NOW? Sweaty palms? Butterflies in your stomach?
    Me : Can't text. About to drive.
    Brenna : LOL!! I KNEW IT!!
     
    I pull in at the dilapidated building that is looking much less dilapidated with every hour of work we chisel into it , and I feel puffy- cheste d with pride. I'd accomplished things before; written papers, completed projects, aced exams. But I'd never worked with my hands, turning something ugly into something gorgeous using my own sweat and talent. Well , using a ton of criminals' sweat and my very limited-but-slowly-increasing talent.
    When I walk in, the officer in charge, Officer Rannick , points me in th e direction of one of the room s we'd painted last week.
    "They refinished the floors and the precinct had some file cabinets sent over. Unfortunately, they tipped some of the drawers out. They're letter labeled. You just need to fish though the files and put the correct ones in, back in order."
    "Okay." So today will be an easy day compared to the grueling grind of last week. I go through the door and my eyes nearly evacuate their sockets. "Oh shi ...z," I amend as Officer Rannick frowns.
    "Go ahead. You can handle it."
    She opens the door wider, and I stumble into a roaring, heaping, sliding typhoon of papers that goes up to my knees and has absolutely no rhyme or reason that I can decipher. My eyes race a circuit around the cluttered, paper-filled room, and I feel like I've been buried in sand up to my neck, weighed down by the millions of individu al grains .
    But, if I'm going to be balls-to-the-wall honest with myself, this never-ending