My Boyfriend's Back

by Maureen McCarrie

  Something was positively rotten in Hammond. John Lydon had never shown any human kindness to anyone. She still felt sick every time she thought about prom night.

  I should have kicked him then, she thought. Trails of mascara left tight saline scars down her face. She didn't even care that people were staring. All she could think of was Jack laying in a coma and that awful, awful night twenty years ago...

  Prom Night, Hammond High School, 1991

  Music blared from the gym, stuffy with body heat and the smell of hairspray. Rori wandered outside to the courtyard, where the fountain drew other prom-goers for a soft spray of relief. It was unseasonably warm. John Lydon, her date, had vanished moments ago. She didn't care. She disliked John. Really, she shouldn't have accepted when he asked her to go, but she'd had no other offers and feared she'd be left out. John was a handsome, athletic, popular boy. He was also a bully. She had not realized how cruel he was until she'd listened to him in the limo. What a complete jerk.

  "Come on, Flinch! Where's your tux? Couldn't find a girl who was willing to be seen with you?"

  Oh no! John had given Jack Lynch the awful nickname Flinch because the football bullies liked to throw fake-punches at him in the hallways, laughing when he ducked. More than once a punch had landed, so naturally Jack had become head-shy. Rori rushed to the fountain, gasping at what she saw.

  John and his buddies had grabbed Jack by the waist of his jeans and the collar of his shirt. They were hanging him over the edge of the stone-rimmed fountain. Arcs of water created a soft mist. Jack Lynch had lost his glasses in the scuffle. His face was red from struggling. John had his upper body in his ham-fists, and was lowering his face into the water. She saw blood going pink in the rivulets on his chin from a deep gash in his lip.

  "Leave him alone! What are you doing?"

  John Lydon sneered at her as she rushed to intervene. Shoving Jack's upper body away, he was yanked out of the fellow-tormenter's hands. He landed in a heap in the pool, scrambling to his feet. Jack was soaked.

  John was enraged.

  "Why don't you mind your own business, Rori?"

  "It is my business. What did he ever do to you?"

  "He shouldn't even be here. Neither should you. I thought maybe you'd be easy. I mean, you're fat—" The other guys fell apart into great guffaws of ugly laughter. John snickered. "Well, I figured I might get laid. Sue me. She has big boobs. I mean, she has a huge ass, too—"

  They were in hysterics, now. Rori wanted to throw up. She'd seen John staring at her breasts all night.

  "She's not fat, you asshole." Jack crawled over the lip of the fountain.

  Rori rushed forward to offer him a hand, but he had already planted his feet with a pathetic squelch onto the bricks of the courtyard. She felt her face burn crimson as gales of high-pitched laughter came from behind her.

  Oh, no. Not the cheer-mafia. Had this been a set-up? They hated her for making the squad. She knew it. She'd tried out for her mom, been surprised to make the varsity team, and spent the past two years regretting it silently. She didn't like the girls on the squad. She didn't like the guys who followed them around.

  Now, here she was, looking into the face of the only boy at Hammond High School she truly admired, and they were all laughing at her. She was suddenly ashamed of herself for putting on the stupid pink dress and being seen with a boy like John Lydon. She had even hinted gently to Jack— was he going to prom? But he'd shrugged and said he was asked to come set up the light show. After doing that he planned to go home. And then John asked, and she'd really wanted to go.

  John thought she was fat. Jack stood there, bleeding, sticking up for her. Rori wanted to die.

  "If I'm so fat you must be pathetic to want to 'get laid' that bad, John. You're a pig. I'm calling my father and leaving. If you don't leave Jack alone I'm getting a chaperone from the gym."

  They laughed some more. She didn't care. It couldn't get any worse.

  Lily Spense's nasal voice proved her wrong. "Why call daddy, Rori? Why not go home with your boyfriend Flinch?"

  Jack's face burned red as he flung the broken eye-glasses he'd found on the ground into the fountain. Shaking the hair out of his eyes in a gesture that was achingly familiar, he turned before she could stop him, jogging toward the student parking lot. Rori called out to him but he didn't stop or look back.

  "I wish he was my boyfriend." She set her jaw, turning to face her squad-mates. "He's the smartest guy in this school and he is always sweet to everyone. You are all such bitches."

  She knew they were shocked, even if they were snickering. Rori never spoke up, never spoke out. She was shy, painfully so. But she'd realized— standing in a pink dress she hated at a prom that was the worst experience of her life, listening to girls she couldn't stand laugh at her, with the date she found repugnant— she was disgusted with herself. It was one thing to be shy, and another to be cowardly.

  "Oh go get your boyfriend back, Rori." Lilith brayed and snorted.

  "I wish I could," she admitted to herself, tears dragging mascara down her face like dirty scars.

  A ragged sob shook her from the memory. Rori glanced at the mirror above the bar, seeing the same black rivers on her face she'd seen all those years ago.

  "How about a cup of coffee?" Rori glanced up. The bartender looked too young to be drinking, much less serving. His name-tag read NORMAN.

  "I think I need to be drunk tonight, Norman." She finished her glass of wine in a single gulp. "How about something stiffer?"

  "Won't make it better."

  "It can't get worse."

  Norman leaned over the bar and poured her the coffee she'd refused. He gave her a wink, added a dash of Bailey's Irish Cream, and pushed it toward her. "On the house if you'll tell me your story."

  So she did.

  Chapter 8

  John Lydon sat at the Buzz Cafe, eyes fixed on Rori McLeary. She looked like hell. Dark glasses hid her hazel eyes. She hung on to the coffee cup in front of her with both hands, head bowed above it. The danish at her elbow lay untouched.

  If Norman was a reliable source, she was pretty hung over. The Jack Lynch inside him ached; John Lydon wanted to put his arms around her. His testicles twitched at the memory of his last attempt to touch Rori.

  Too soon.

  She heaved a sigh, slung her purse over her shoulder, tossed the danish in the trash and headed for the door with her coffee. John looked up in surprise as she paused at his table on the way out.

  "I owe you an apology." She sounded as if she wanted to spit something slimy out of her mouth. Obviously the apology was bitter on her tongue.

  "No, Ror— it's fine."

  "What did you call me?"

  Dammit. "Sorry." John Lydon shouldn't ever feel comfortable using that shortened version of Victoria's already shortened name. Jack had always called her "Ror."

  "Catch in my throat. You look like you had a rough night."

  "Well," she said, her tone clipped, "one of my oldest friends is in a coma. The jerk from high school who bullied him for years is suddenly acting like they're besties. And I'm hung over. So yeah, rough night is about right."

  "What happened to 'I owe you an apology?'"

  "I'm sorry for becoming physically violent toward you. You're still an asshole. I'm not sorry for telling you so to your face."

  "Ah." John sighed heavily. It's me, he thought, keeping his gaze steady on her dark glasses, wishing he could see her eyes. "If you'd like to see Jack I am staying with his mom. You could come with us to the hospital. You never know— maybe hearing the voice of an old friend?"

  There was no way to miss the blatant suspicion on Rori's face. "You're staying with his mother?"

  "Look, Rori, things change. I can't go into it. Some secrets aren't mine to tell, and that's as far as I'll go. But let's just say that Jack and I came to be closer than you can begin to imagine, and leave it at that. Or... I'll also add that I am absolutely not the man you remember."

  "
Man? I remember a spoiled, arrogant bully."

  "You remember correctly." He kept his eyes on her, unwavering. See me. "Look, right now only family is allowed in to see him, but they'll make exceptions for his mother. I'm taking her to the hospital this afternoon. Actually, I think she'd like to see you."

  Rori finally pulled the dark glasses away, and his heart broke to see her hazel eyes rimmed with red.

  "I don't know what you're up to, Lydon. But I want to see Jack. He's the only reason I bothered to come back for this stupid reunion. What time should I be at the Lynch's?"

  It took every ounce of control he had not to grin. "I'm headed that way now. Why don't you come along?"

  ***

  The street had not changed. Rori peered out the driver's side window of John's truck as they passed the house where she'd grown up. It was unaltered, but for the color of the shutters and a swing-set in the side yard. She liked the dark green against the white. She liked the thought of a new family making memories there, and made a mental note to mention it to her mom the next time she called her in Florida.

  Two doors down John pulled up the drive of the house where Jack grew up. His mother still lived there with her guide dog. Last she'd heard his uncle, a longshoreman, was with her off and on. Kate Lynch was an amazing woman; Rori had always loved her.

  Rori piled out of the old truck, nearly bumping into John. He'd rounded the bumper and almost seemed to be reaching to open her door. Flashing him a scowl, she headed for the side-door, knowing Jack's mother would be in the kitchen. She had almost lifted her hand to knock when Jack turned the knob and gave the door a shove with his hip, letting himself in.

  Well, at least I know he wasn't lying about becoming close to the family. He knows the kitchen door still jams.

  The first thing Rori noticed was that Kate's guide dog had been replaced. When last she had visited, a yellow Labrador named Mazey was getting along in years. Entering the sunny kitchen, a black lab came tick-ticking across the floor, tail waving. He went directly to John, shoving his nose into the big man's hand.

  "Hey, Preston!" John gave the dog's head a rough scrubbing.

  Rori gaped. She knew from growing up around Jack and his mom that guide dogs were placid, calm animals. They were trained to focus on their masters. All the dogs Kate had owned through the years had been friendly, but rarely showed this kind of energy and affection toward anyone but family. Usually they met outsiders with serene politeness, sitting quietly while they accepted attention passively.

  This was odd. She glanced at John. He had always been handsome. Strangely, she had almost resented him for it when they were younger. It didn't seem fair for someone as unkind as John Preston to be blessed with athletic prowess and physical beauty, too. Rori had always secretly thought his features cold, if classic. Was it her imagination or had time softened him? Did his blue eyes sparkle more than she remembered?

  "Rori!" Kate Lynch appeared in the arched opening to the dining room, her arms open in greeting. Rori closed the space between them in an instant and hugged the older woman fiercely. She smelled of fabric softener and hand lotion.

  Rori loved Kate Lynch. As a child she had followed Jack around like a lost kitten, waiting for him to see what was naked and raw in her eyes. She knew his mother was never fooled. Both painfully shy, they had been friends since nursery school. As they grew older, Rori felt Jack pull away a little more each year. By the time they graduated from high school Jack seemed uncomfortable with their old friendship. But Rori had never stopped hoping. She'd never stopped looking at him with longing.

  Had she failed him by never declaring her feelings? She believed she had. If she'd only found the courage to tell him, once and for all, she could have at least known for certain how he felt. If he didn't share her affection... well, at least she would not have spent twenty years wondering.

  And now it seemed she might not ever get a second chance.

  Blinking away tears, she drew away from Kate to give her a long, appraising look. Jack's mother looked well. Her hair— always fair— had been getting the old-lady-lavender rinse down at the beauty parlor once a week for a while. Rori remembered when it was platinum blond, but couldn't remember it styled in anything but the soft little cap of curls she wore now. Kate had become a mother late in life. Rori supposed the awful purple tint was some kind of rite of passage all women in Hammond embraced whether they liked it or not. It came with the senior citizen's discount.

  Glancing across the kitchen to John, Rori was shocked at the soft, tender look on his face. He was... beautiful. Handsome even as a cruel young man, the face she saw now looking down at Jack's mother was like nothing she'd ever seen before. It threw her completely off her game.

  For the hundredth time that day Rori wondered what was going on between John, Jack, and Jack's mother. It couldn't possibly be as simple as Lydon had stated it.

  Or could it?

  "All right, you two. Have a seat and tell me what you've been up to."

  "But—" Rori glanced at John in surprise, "shouldn't we be getting you to the hospital?"

  "Not just yet. I was with Jack last night, and the priest came by. We have time to sit and chat."

  For a woman who was in peril of losing her only child, Kate Lynch was terribly cheerful. Bustling about the kitchen with a surety that had always amazed Rori, she placed a plate on the table, two glasses along-side it, and poured milk into each glass.

  Rori hadn't drunk cold milk in ages. Her eyes widened at the pile of Oreo cookies Kate dumped onto the plate— Double Stuff! Jack's favorite.

  "You were always milk and Oreo children." Jack's mom paused, returning the milk to the frig. "Well, Rori and Jack were. I'm sure you are, too, John."

  Lydon had been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd arrived. He scooped up a half-dozen cookies, hunched over them, and began twisting off the tops, then separating them: cookie tops shorn clean, and cookie bottoms with the thick cream still clinging to them. Setting the plain tops to one side, John took the Double Stuff bottoms, mashed them together, and created Quadruple Stuff hybrid monsters.

  He stacked the plain Oreo tops and handed them to Rori without looking up. She gasped.

  John froze, a hugely thick re-assembled Oreo half-way to his lips.

  "Where did you learn to do that?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

  "What?"

  "That."

  Rori gestured to the re-assembled cookie in his hand. It was a quirk, a weird little ritual she had shared with Jack as children. He always pulled the tops off his Oreos, doubled them (even the Double Stuff Oreos), and passed her the naked tops. She hated white frosting. Something about the rote, easy way John had done it sent a chill up her spine. It was as though he were trying to mimic Jack.

  "Oh, John and Jack have become close, Rori. Closer than you could imagine. I'd say John has picked up a lot of Jack's... habits."

  The hesitation was odd. Rori dunked a cookie-top into her milk and glanced between Kate Lynch and John Lydon.

  The doorbell rang.

  John waived Kate into a chair and went to answer it. After a few moments, Rori heard him exchanging words with another man. The conversation appeared to be rather heated.

  "...mother... secrets... isn't allowed... trouble..."

  Rori's ears burned. Kate was rambling on about the neighbors having problems with racoons. She replied with vague responses, listening as stealthily as possible to the hissed exchange at the front door.

  "...your own business... my mother... don't like... stuff... angelic ass..."

  Angelic ass? That couldn't be right.

  A white van with giant wings painted on the side pulled away from the curb at the end of the drive. Rori tried to make out the name on the side. HPS?

  John strolled back into the kitchen, his smile tight.

  "No package?" Rori narrowed her eyes at him.

  "Wrong street."

  He was lying through his perfect, pearly-white teeth.

  Chapte
r 9

  John left Jack's room— he was never going to get used to that— with Rori and Kate Lynch. He'd nearly called her "mom" three times. This was harder than he'd ever imagined.

  Strangely, watching his former body lay in a coma didn't trouble him. It almost felt like he'd been destined to make the switch. The solid muscle, even stride, and big limbs enveloping him now felt right, somehow.

  He had treated the ladies to a simple dinner at a diner across from the hospital. Now he and Rori shared a silent truck cab as he pulled into the Hammond Suites parking lot. Not a word had been spoken since they left Jack's boyhood home, kisses bussed onto both their cheeks by Kate.

  Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, John was relieved to see distracted speculation on her face. He'd take suspicion over hostility any day.

  "Rori, I'd like to ask you to do something for Jack."

  Surprise. Just as he'd hoped.

  "For Jack?"

  "I know we have a lot of bad blood between us, and I know I mistreated Jack over the years. But that was a long time ago. Things have changed, and I would like to talk to you about it. Will you have a drink with me?"

  Suspicion warred with curiosity, but the open, earnest face she met won her over. Rori nodded once, and allowed John to open her door, take her elbow, and lead her into the lounge.

  Her old pal Norman was at the bar again. He threw her a cheerful grin as she nodded to him, and took a seat in a quiet corner with Jack. The place was nearly empty.

  She pulled off her coat, avoiding John's gaze. Thinking of John Lydon made her feel as though she were betraying Jack. Yet she had to admit the day she'd spent with him left her utterly conflicted. The John she knew was an insult to everything Jack stood for. The John she'd spent the day with could have been his brother. Polite, solicitous, even protective— he was nothing like the arrogant boy she remembered.

  Norman appeared at the table.

  "Short-staffed?" John's polite demeanor seemed to have fled, at least for the moment.

  "Just me tonight. Most of the reunion crowd abandoned us for a nightclub across town. What can I get you?"