Lover Reborn

“Because you have to remember how to be romantic.”

Tohr shook his head. “No. Nope. Not going to happen…”

As he hopped on the over-my-dead-body train, Lassiter just kept shaking his head. “You gotta remember it’s possible, buddy.”

“The hell I do—”

“You’re stalled, Tohr. And whereas you might have time to fart around, Wellsie doesn’t have that luxury.”

Tohr shut up. Sat back. Started to pick off the label on his beer. “I can’t do that, man. I can’t pretend to feel… that way.”

“Kind of like you can’t have sex with No’One? Just how long do you plan on going on like you are?”

“Until you disappear. Until Wellsie’s free and you’re gone.”

“And how’s that working for you. You like that dream you woke up with today?”

“Movies aren’t going to help,” he said after a moment.

“What else are you going to do? Jack off in your room until No’One comes back from work—then jack off next to her? Oh, wait, let me guess—pace around aimlessly. Because it’s not like you’ve ever done that before.” Lassiter shoved the bowl he’d offered into Tohr’s face. “What the fuck is it going to cost you to hang here with me. Shut up and eat your half of the popcorn, asshole.”

Tohr accepted what was in his grill only because it was either that or he ended up with Orville all over his lap.

One hour and thirty-six minutes later, he had to clear his throat as Meg Ryan told Billy Crystal that she hated him in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

“Sauce on the side,” Lassiter said as he got up. “The answer to everything.”

A minute later, young Bruce Willis came onscreen, and Tohr sent up a prayer of thanks. “This is much better. We need more beer, though.”

“Got it.”

A case of lager later and they had blown through two epis of Moonlighting, including a Christmas one where the cast and crew sang along with the actors in the last scene.

Which did not make him clear his throat again.

Really. It didn’t.

Then they tried to get through An Affair to Remember. At least until Lassiter took pity on them both and started to rock the fast-forward button.

“Chicks say this is the greatest,” the angel muttered, as he hit the button again and whoever it was started speed-emoting. “Maybe this one was a mistake.”

“Amen on that.”

Okay, the princess movie did not suck—that shit was funny in places. And, yeah, it was… cool when the pair got together at the end. Plus he liked Columbo as the granddad. But he couldn’t really say any of it was turning him into a Casanova.

Lassiter glanced over. “We’re not done yet.”

“Just keep beering me.”

“Ask and ye shall receive.”

The angel handed him a freshie and disappeared into the control room to switch DVDs. As he came back down to where they were sitting, the screen lit up with—

Tohr jacked forward in his seat. “What the hell!”

As Lassiter’s big body cut through the projection onto the screen, a gigantic pair of flapping breasts covered his face and chest. “Adventures in the MILFy Way. A true classic.”

“It’s porn!”

“Duh—”

“Okay, I am not sitting through this with you.”

The angel, still standing up, shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you know what you’re missing.”

Moans rumbled through the surround sound as those boobs… those frickin’ boobs looked like they were slapping Lassiter in the piehole—

Tohr covered his eyes at the horror. “No! Not doing this!”

Lassiter cut off the movie, the sounds disappearing. And a quick intrafinger check indicated that it was a stop, not a pause, mercifully.

“I’m just trying to get through to you.” Lassiter sat down, cracked open a beer, and looked tired. “Man, this angel crap… it’s so fucking hard to influence anything. I’ve never had a problem with free will before, but for shit’s sake, I wish I could just I Dream of Jeannie you to where you need to be.” As Tohr winced, the angel muttered, “It’s okay, though. We’ll get you there somehow—”

“Actually, I’m cringing at the vision of you in a pink harem costume.”

“Hey, I have a great ass, I’ll have you know.”

They drank beer for a while until a Sony logo started to appear at random points on the screen. “You ever been in love?” Tohr asked.

“Once. Never again.”

“What happened.” When the angel didn’t answer, Tohr shot a look over. “Oh, so it’s fine for you to be all up in my dark-and-dirty, but you can’t return the favor?”

Lassiter shrugged. Opened yet another beer. “You know what I think?”

“Not unless you tell me.”

“I think we should try another epi of Moonlighting.”

Tohr exhaled long and slow and had to agree. It didn’t suck watching movies with the guy, talking over the dialogue while drinking Sam Adams and eating crap food. In fact, he could not remember the last time he’d ever just… hung out.

Of course, it must have been with Wellsie. If he’d had downtime, he’d always spent it with her.

God, how many days had they frittered away, mindlessly checking out in front of the television, watching reruns and crappy cable movies and droning newscasts. They’d held hands, or she’d lain on his chest, or he’d played with her hair.

Such wasted time, he thought. But when they’d been in that suck zone of minutes and hours, it had been… a simple, easy kind of bliss.

One more thing to mourn.

“How about something later in Willis’s career?” he said roughly.

“Die Hard?”

“You set it up and I’ll put another fire in the hole at the popcorn machine.”

“Deal.”

As they both rose and headed for the back, him to the candy and soda counter, Lassiter to the control booth, Tohr stopped the guy.

“Thanks, man.”

The angel gave him a knock in the shoulder, and then went about getting some yippee-ki-yay-motherfucker on deck. “Just doing my job.”

Tohr watched the angel’s blond-and-black head duck through the narrow doorway.

Fuck free will was right. And as for him and No’One?

It was tough to think about what was coming next. Hell, when he’d first hooked up with her, it had taken the hide right off of him to ride through all the emotions just so he could accept her vein, give her his, and be with her to the extent he had.

If he took this any farther?

The next level was going to make that shit look like a walk in the park.

THIRTY-EIGHT