Free How Hard Can It Be? by Robyn Peterman

looked at me through hooded eyes. “Nope.”
    I liked his answer even though I kind of hated him for being the instrument of my impending incarceration. Wait, I didn’t need anyone to fuck up my life. I was doing an outstanding job of that all by my lonesome. “Why are you being nice to me?”
    “I’m not exactly sure, but I’m positive I’ll end up in a lot of trouble for it,” he said with a grin.
    “I’m sure you will.” I grinned back. “Can I ask you a question since you seem to know so much about me?”
    “Shoot.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Jack.”
    Of course it is. I sighed and wondered if his last name happened to be Snuffleupagus.

Chapter 6
    T he police station was a circus and I was the center ring act. I got recognized by police and perps galore from my weather girl debacle. I even signed a few autographs before Jack the Hottie took me by the arm and led me to a private room. The room was cold and in need of a good scrub down. The fluorescent lighting was harsh and unfriendly. It reminded me of the interrogation rooms on Law & Order. I kind of hoped he would frisk me, but no such luck. He paced back and forth and I watched.
    “What are we waiting for?” I asked.
    “My sergeant. I was instructed to take you to this room.”
    His agitation was making feel queasy, but the way his ass filled out his jeans was making me horny. I contemplated giving him my number, but there was probably a law against that, and I was batting a big hairy zero right now.
    “I’ll be right back,” Jack muttered. “Stay here.”
    Like I had anywhere to go . . . He left the room and took all my confidence with him. It was the first time today I truly felt scared. What the hell had I done? Was I actually going to go to jail for real? I shuddered at the thought. Did it make any difference that I wasn’t trying to be the weather girl anymore? I supposed not. I’d broken the law . . . Shit, shit, shit.
    Moments later a beady-eyed Santa in a police uniform entered the room. He stood about six-foot-three and he didn’t like me . . . at all. The rosy-cheeked, white-bearded cop gave me a hostile stare. “You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady.”
    I flinched at the tone of his voice. This was so real, and I was so fucked. “I’m sorry Sant . . . um officer,” I stammered. Damn it, I’d almost called him Santa. “I know it doesn’t make any difference, but I wasn’t trying to become the Sunshine Weather Girl. I got a new job and I was trying to . . .”
    “Can it,” he spat, glaring at me with an ugly frown on his Santa face. “None of that matters. The judge won’t care why you were there. You weren’t supposed to be there. Period. You’re looking at two years minimum.”
    His stare drilled into me as his words blasted through my brain.
    “Can I at least explain myself?” I swallowed hard, trying not to cry. My mother was going to disown me. And my sister, she was going to love this . . . forever. Why oh why didn’t I just rub the boobs?
    “Do you want to call your lawyer?” Santa asked indifferently.
    My lawyer? I didn’t have a freakin’ lawyer. My mind reeled with confusion. The only lawyer I knew was my boring brother-in-law Dirk. I sure-as-fuck was not calling him. I pinched myself hard, praying this was a nightmare. Ouch . . . not a dream. “Well, um . . . I don’t really have a, you know, a lawyer.”
    Father Christmas shook his head in disgust. Before he could further explain to me what a stupid ass I was, the door to the interrogation room opened and a little person walked in. He stood about three feet tall. He wore a police uniform and had blond side-swept hair and slightly bucked teeth. His face was round, his cheeks were pink, and his eyes were huge. I gripped the arms of my chair in terror. . . He looked exactly like Herbie the Dentist from the Christmas special Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
    Sheer black fright swept through me and my body began to shake. I bit down on my tongue,