My Boyfriend's Back by Maureen McCarrie (book club reads .TXT) 📕

My Boyfriend'sBack

ChrissyOlinger

SmashwordsEdition

Copyright 2011Chrissy Olinger

Learn MoreAbout Chrissy

http://www.chrissyolinger.com

SmashwordsEdition, License Notes

This ebook islicensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not bere-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to sharethis book with another person, please purchase an additional copyfor each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did notpurchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then pleasereturn to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you forrespecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

BUZZ Cafe,Hammond MA

Norman fiddledwith the drawstrings of his hooded jacket, testing the releasemechanism he had installed. He was finally getting his firstassignment. Excited, nervous, but raring to go, he waited for hismentor to arrive with the file.

"Stopfidgeting, Norman." Uriel smiled to take the sting off, saunteringup to the booth where his charge was sitting.

"Hey, could youcall me Normiel? I've decided to go by Normiel. It's more angelic."Norman grinned, rubbed his hands together, and made room for thearchangel on the seat next to him. He'd found a corner table sothey could spread out. The wings tucked into his hoodie were new,and itched a little.

"I think I'mgoing to stick with Norman. Do you have enough room in that...err... jacket?" Uriel frowned, craning his neck to peer at the backof Norman's awkward attire.

"Oh, yeah, see,I rigged this cool set of slashes in the back so I can pull thestrings and let my wings pop—"

"Norman," Urielsighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I really likeNormiel." Norman sulked.

"Look, you'reeager and that's great. But we would really prefer that you go bythe book. No bells or whistles are necessary. You're deliveringactual miracles. And we don't make up new names."

"Right, right."Norman forced a smile. He knew he had a tendency to try too hard.It had gotten him in a lot of trouble in training. But he wasdetermined to use his first real assignment as an opportunity toprove himself. "No bells, no whistles. Got it!"

"I've decidedto start you off with something simple, but powerful. How does thatsound?"

"I can do it!"Norman reached for the file, a manilla envelope withgold-embossing. Uriel snatched it back.

"Wait! Pleasepay attention, Norman. I picked you for this assignment because Ibelieve this plays to your strengths: an eagerness to help, andempathy for those who... err... well, those who... umm..."

Norman stared,waiting, his face a study in earnest sincerity.

"Let's call itsocially challenged eagerness."

"Oh." He triednot to let his disappointment show. "This is a nerd job."

"There are nonerd angels. Only nerds who have risen above their mortal coils tobecome angelic." Uriel knew it was weak, but it was the best hecould do on the fly. "I need somebody on this job who understandswhat it means to get a second chance. Norman, I need you. JackLynch needs you."

"LynchTech andLynchpin Media— that Jack Lynch? What could I possibly do forhim?"

Uriel smiled."Read the file. Two nights from now be at the rendezvous location.It's a simple job, but a very important one. I believe in you,Norman. Don't let me down."

Normanuntangled his fingers from the drawstrings and he clutched the fileto his chest. "I won't let you down," he said, and he meant thepromise all the way to his newly minted celestial toes.

Chapter 2

HammondSuites, Hammond, MA

John Lydonadjusted the cuffs of his suit to hide a stain on the white shirtbeneath. He was watching the elevators at the Hammond Suites fromthe lounge just off the lobby. John couldn't afford to stay at theonly decent hotel in town. He was staying down the street at theWindy Hollow Motor Lodge in a musty room with a creaky bed. Thecable was fuzzy; the ice machine was broken; the desk clerk was anold lady with a nasty wart on her nose.

Things weren'tgoing well for the former football star. He had been forced toresign from his job as a sportscaster at a small cable network inthe boonies. A bimbo intern accused him of sexual harassment fornothing more than a little pat on her plump behind— next thing heknew it was "quit or be fired and face a scandal in the press."Chubby girls were supposed to be easy. She was probably frigid, hethought, crunching the last few cubes of ice in his glass ofwhiskey.

This reunion—his twentieth— was his last shot. Jack Lynch, valedictorian, wassomewhere in this hotel getting ready to speak to the class of1991. Just as the Hammond High Harts had thrown their prom onValentine's Day, the reunion was scheduled for the same weekend. Abig banquet tonight, followed by a weekend of activities, and afarewell breakfast on Monday— Valentine's Day.

John had threedays. He needed a job or he was going to lose everything he had.Jack Lynch was a multimillionaire. He owned software companies, aninternet search engine, and recently gobbled up a news media giant.One of the networks Jack now owned was Northeast SportsTelevision.

This was hislast shot. And fate wasn't in John's favor. He knew he wasgreat-looking, charming, and admired. Glancing at the mirror abovethe bar, he tugged a perfect curl, pulling it into acareless-seeming swirl over his brow. If only Jack Lynch was achick. He'd have a job by midnight, and probably an invitation to amuch nicer bed in the good hotel.

Unfortunately,Jack Lynch was a nerd, had always been a nerd, and most smart,nerdy people had good memories. If Jack remembered being calledFlinch, being dunked in the fountain behind the gym, or anyof those wedgies? That was going to be a problem.

But hey, Johnthought, maybe Jack had matured enough to forgive and forget. Itwasn't that big of a deal, right? Their names were so closealphabetically that they'd been in the same homeroom all throughhigh school, and often shared study halls and gym classes. So yeah,okay, maybe the class nerd got picked on a little. And yeah, okay,maybe John had been the bully. It was all in good fun, right?

Right? Johnlooked into his empty glass and scowled. Twenty years was a longtime. Maybe Jack Lynch had forgotten the last Valentine's Dayweekend he'd spent in Hammond. What was one soaking wet wedgiebetween old schoolmates?

A soft buzzbegan near the doorway of the lounge.