My Boyfriend's Back Maureen McCarrie (android based ebook reader .TXT) 📖

during their schooldays, give the time of day to the creeps who had tormented him? Hewas worth millions. He owned LynchTech, Lynchpin Media, andwho-knew what else. The quiet guy in thick glasses— whom everyoneknew would succeed— was now mentioned in the same breath with BillGates and Donald Trump.

Rori loved hissuccess all the way to her bones. A kind, sweet kid, Jack wasobviously brilliant even in grade school. His parents wereacademics, and Jack had blazed a path through Harvard, later to setthe technological world on fire. He had appeared on the cover ofdozens of magazines before the age of thirty. She'd saved the100 Most Influential Men issue— his familiar face (minus theglasses, thanks to lasik surgery) grinning out at her in asuper-hero costume, with the bold headline across his chest: TheGeek Crusader. She'd been so proud of him that day, standing at themagazine kiosk near her office, tears stinging her eyes. He'd comea long way from the kid they'd shoved into the fountain atprom.

Had she comefar enough, she wondered? The memory still stung.

Rori picked upthe packet and her tickets from the nightstand by the bed, glancingaround her hotel room as she ran down the check-list in herhead.

Drop-dead sexyred dress— CHECK.

Sleek up-do—CHECK.

Diamonds, sixinch heels, flashy little clutch— CHECK-a-rooni.

Rockin' bod,successful career, brand-new attitude— CHECK. CHECK.Hell-to-the-CHECK.

She grabbed herkeys, gave her boobs a final shove upward, tugged her hem intoperfect folds with a wiggle of her hips, and headed for thedoor.

Twenty yearswas a long wait. It was time to get her boyfriend back.

Chapter 4

Jack Lynch'sLimousine, en route to the Hammond High School Reunion

"— feel reallygood about that, since media is, you know, media is the thing. Whata great move on your part, Jack. I always knew you weresmart, but come-on—"

Was he stilltalking? Jack rubbed a temple and tried to hide his sigh. Thesuck-up-a-thon was hitting fifteen minutes. Couldn't this idiot getto the pitch so he could turn him down, tell him off, and move onto getting the girl? It was all growing stale and pathetic.

"— not reallyinterested in national markets. I was made a star by the localfans, you know? I feel loyalty to that smaller market. Like— well,for instance like your Northeast Sports Television. That was partof the Lynchpin Media buy-out, right?"

Here it comes,Jack thought, relief flooding him. It didn't seem possible, buthe'd actually started to feel bad for the guy. John Lydon was anasshat, but he was also clearly terrified, washed-up, broke, anddown to his final chip, holding a garbage hand.

He held all thecards, but he didn't really need to beat John Lydon any more.Glancing out the window, Jack's final thought was that he would letthe jerk down easy. Maybe there was even a job for him— somethingin an all-male environment where he could limit possible damage.Maybe he could find him some kind of mentor...

There was aterrible squeal. There was a terrible bang. There was a terriblesense of tumbling through the air.

Everything wentblack.

Then everythingwent white.

***

"Fear not! Ibring you tidings of... DAMMIT!"

The white lightsurrounding Jack Lynch seemed to waiver a little. He felt hollow,somehow empty. The creepy guy in the hoodie was standing over him,back-lit by a pearly glow. He was tugging furiously on thedrawstrings of his sweatshirt.

"You bring metidings of dammit?"

"Hang on." Moretugs. Something vaguely fluffy emerged from the back of the guy'ssweatshirt with a floopf sound. "Hang on, I can getthis."

He gave anotherfierce yank, and with a pop, two wings burst outward on either sideof him with a sound like a parachute deploying. Jack gave anindelicate yip.

"Yesss! Um—fearnotIbringyoutidings— " the nerd gave a satisfied sigh oftriumph, before adding "of JOY!"

Jack gaped."What the hell is?"

"Shhh." CreepyHoodie Guy glanced around. "Look, the dammit was a slip-up.They don't like that kind of language."

"Who— what—where the hell am I and what the hell is going on?"

Creepy Guylooked aggravated. "Now look here," he squared hisshoulders, causing the wings to wobble a bit, "I know this isconfusing, but there is no need to get hostile. You're onlytemporarily dead."

"WHAT?" Jackscrambled to his feet, panic and confusion suddenly gripping him."Okay, one more time— who are you and what the—" the hoodie guymade a hysterical gesture— "heck is going on?"

"Um, behold, Iam Normiel!"

"Normal? Yeah,not exactly the word I wold go for."

"Notnormal, Normiel. Nor- Me- Ell. I'm an angel. Actually, myname is Norman, but I'm going to go by Normiel." Norman grinned asif to punctuate his resolve to adopt the new moniker.

Jack glancedaround. He was standing in a large bubble of soft, glowing mist.Beyond, as if he were looking through a thick fog, he could see aroadside, a limousine turned on its side, and flashing lights inthe distance, growing closer.

Was thathis limo?

He glanced backat Norman. This was the guy who had been following him. He wasslim, short, and scruffy. Thick glasses with dark rims made thenose seem rather wide in his young face. He wore, beneath theever-present hoodie, jeans and Chuck Taylor sneakers. Behind himJack noticed a backpack with a box of Crunchios cereal crammed intoit. A few golden nuggets were scattered about on the ground.

"Let me getthis straight. You are Norman, and you bring me tidings of dammit,and you have been following me around in that sweatshirt yanking onyour string-thingies, and I'm temporarily dead."

"Pretty much."Norman grinned again. "Sorry about the delivery. I actually nearlymissed you. I was having a snack and the deer ran out into theroad, and I missed some stuff in the file because I was watchingNext Big Star. Do you watch? This has been the most amazingseason—"

Jack stared.This was a dream. It had to be a dream.

"Can we getback to temporarily dead? You'll understand my preoccupation, Iassume."

"Oh,that. No worries! You have led a good life, Jack Lynch, andwhen given the opportunity to harm another, you chose to be kind.In that moment you earned yourself a second chance." He seemed tobe reciting from a script in his head. Norman, Jack thoughtgrumpily, seemed absolutely pleased as punch with himself.

Jack was stillconfused. "I chose to be kind?"

"It was in thefile."

"How didI—"

"I may havemissed parts of the file, but the salient details lead us to,