Just A Small Town Girl: A New Adult Romantic Comedy Read Online Free PDF

the moment my Achilles tendon went pop and put paid to a football scholarship, but things hadn't been that bad when I graduated High School. I had vocational training and with the housing boom everyone had needed carpenters. And then the economy went foom. Yeah - that hadn't helped.
     "I fucked Heather's mom," I said, sinking deeper into self-pity.
     Steve gave me a strange look and so it all came out - how I was slowly turning into a bigger loser than my Dad, an asshole so lazy he complained if he had to lift the sofa cushions to look for the remote control, the reason we had no future beyond the dole or the army, and look how that had turned out. "One day," I said. "I'm going to look in the mirror and that's who's going to be looking back at me - my old man. That whole thing with Heather and her mom - that was just like the stories he used to tell. Those stories were the reason why everyone thought he was such a 'good guy'. He was a great guy, a great fucking drinking buddy. A lousy husband and a worse father, but hey - he was a blast."
     "So keep your dick dry," said Steve. "What's the problem? You're not your dad; I'm not my dad. We don't have to turn out like our parents."
     "I guess not," I said. Steve's old man would lose a battle of wits with a grilled cheese sandwich. It figured Steve had to get his fiendish intelligence from somewhere but his Mom offered no clue. Perhaps the whole slightly ditzy book-club bit she did was just a cover and she was actually a full-blown evil genius with henchmen and an underground lair.
     "It's fine," Steve said. "Bog and I will have the plant out of your way by tonight. You don't have to be involved..."
     He was pretty good about it, which should have tipped me off right away. As it was I was tit deep in self-pity and determined that I wasn't going to end up a barhopping, skank-banging waster like my Dad. My mood wasn't improved when a cop stopped the traffic and said there'd been an accident up ahead and I'd have to take a three-mile diversion. It was one of those weird little twists of fate that are supposed to pass unnoticed, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel something. The traffic was bumper-to-bumper as I moved through a tiny little tourist trap named Westerwick - one of those places where New York yuppies come in the fall, to look at the leaves and buy maple syrup and antiques.
     I'd been here before, but I noticed a shiny new sign – JONES & SON. RESTORATIONS. I resolved to look them up online when I got home. I'd never done restorations before, but these days they were probably grateful for any carpenter who knew a dovetail joint from the hole in his ass.
     When I got back, the plant was almost gone, replaced by a dustsheet covered in a huge pile of weed. "It doesn't seem to be drying out," said Bog.
     "Has Steve been by?" I asked.
     He shook his head. I was pissed by this point and went stomping into the kitchen to call Steve. That turned out to be a mistake; I found myself thigh deep in the fucking floor. "Bog!" I yelled. "Bog! Get in here."
     He peered out from behind the curtain and for a moment looked confused; I was a lot shorter than he was used to me being. "Dude, what are you doing down there?" he said.
     "What's it fucking look like? Pass me my phone."
     I dialed Steve. "Okay, you evil bastard," I said. "You win. I'm in. Turns out I need a new floor."
     That was how I ended up that Saturday night in Burlington, trying to sell weed to drunk yuppies. Turned out Steve was not the drug kingpin he thought he was and in fact had precisely no fucking contacts whatsoever. Worse, when Bog took Steve's brilliant advice of drying the 'product' in the microwave he set fire to a good half pound of the stuff, which led to a certain amount of panic before Steve announced we could adulterate it with catnip and nobody would be any the wiser. Except maybe cats.
     I watched Steve go to work on a couple over by the bar. The girl was flipping her long dark hair back