Morning Man

by Barbara Kellyn

  “Anytime,” she said with a smile. “Now go get your morning man.”

  Chapter 19

  Dayna shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  The attendant behind the gate counter shrugged. “There are severe thunderstorms rolling through the prairies and that system has affected flights between here and Winnipeg. I’m sure we’ll be able to clear the backlog in a couple of hours, but until then, we appreciate your patience.”

  “But we’ve been delayed an hour and a half already.” She looked at her watch. “And it’s nearly two o’clock in Ohio. I need to get home today. The sooner, the better.”

  The attendant took a peek at the growing line of cranky travelers forming over Dayna’s shoulder. “Miss, everyone here is in the same boat. What can I tell you? We have no control over the weather.”

  She sighed heavily. “You can tell me that there’s some other way to get to Columbus. Isn’t there another flight with a connection through Chicago or Minneapolis?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t give you that information from this gate. You’ll have to see a ticket agent. Do you have any bags checked?”

  Dayna looked down at the two pieces of carry-on luggage with her. “One other suitcase.”

  “Then keep your baggage tag, because it will eventually make it onto this flight when the plane arrives. In the meantime, you need to decide if you’ll be on it as well.”

  That was a chance Dayna wasn’t willing to take. She turned and hurried past the line of irate passengers and went in search of another way home.

  * * * *

  It was a damn shame they had pinned so much on one lousy date on the calendar. Tack grumbled as he tucked last night’s empties into the box. Labor Day was tomorrow and he still couldn’t fathom Dayna not making the slightest effort to let him know whether she planned to come back or if she’d already let go. Maybe Dub had it right. Maybe it would be best to just rip off the Band-Aid fast and move on. After all, she was the one who chose to walk away from the good thing they had going, not him.

  The more the walls of his apartment closed in around him, the more Tack started to believe the only remedy was to get out of there, drink Dayna off his mind, or distract himself in the company of some pretty girl. And he knew the perfect place he could accomplish all three.

  “Dub?” he mumbled into his cellphone. “What time do you want to meet up at the Roadhouse tonight?”

  * * * *

  Getting comfortable was impossible, and it had nothing to do with being sandwiched in an economy seat between a sweaty, oversized golfer and a sharp-angled, gangly kid glued to a Seth Rogen comedy. The fact that her stomach was queasy and her palms were clammy also had nothing to do with a pending case of airsickness, although she kept an eye on the emergency bag in the seatback just in case. No, those symptoms came from gut-wrenching realization that she was on a 737 traveling five hundred miles per hour in the entirely wrong direction.

  She’d managed to hop a flight out of Calgary bound for Columbus by way of Phoenix, of all places. It added a whack of extra hours to her itinerary, but at least she had a guaranteed way home by dinner. Clutching tight to that idea like a life preserver kept her sane for the time being, as did the reminder that she was getting back to the man she loved. She’d been a fool to have even left Tack in the first place. Maybe being stuck in airline hell far longer than necessary was karmic payback for being such a fucking idiot.

  Her eyelid sputtered and shuddered, before it began to flicker and then suddenly, went into full-on crazy twitch mode.

  * * * *

  Sober second thoughts plagued Tack as he showered, put on his jeans and searched his closet for a shirt, finally settling on a tan plaid long sleeve. On one hand, it’d do his ego a world of good to get back up on that horse again, but on the other, it didn’t feel right to be with anyone else but Dayna. It crossed his mind to try calling her one last time before he remembered that any last-ditch attempt to reach out was futile. Besides, he’d tried and tried until her mailbox couldn’t contain any more of his heartache.

  He rolled up his sleeves along each forearm and then opened the bedside drawer, spotting the gift box containing the silver belt buckle that Dayna had been so excited about giving him for his birthday. Where was his sweet girl now? Forcefully pushing that notion aside, he reached back further in the drawer for the other box that had been kept in storage all summer. He opened it and slid out two foil-wrapped condoms, still divided between leaving them at home or leaving the loneliness behind.

  * * * *

  Dayna’s head rested heavy in her hands as she cursed her luck. Her plane made it to Phoenix ahead of schedule but she missed the connecting flight because it had left early. She was now stranded on standby. “Maybe it’s a sign,” she mumbled, staring down at the floor in the terminal lounge, her vision blurred by the sting of big, fat tears. If she and Tack were really meant to be together, then they would’ve been together by now.

  With every passing minute, she grew angrier for getting in the way of her own happiness. She could’ve followed her urges and gone home with Tack that first night he asked, but no, she insisted they wait and then–bam–got blindsided by Bonnie and her spectacularly disastrous idea to keep them and the listeners wanting more. She could’ve listened when Tack assured her that he wasn’t intending to leave, instead of running away herself. She could’ve been with him at that moment if she hadn’t insisted on screwing everything up.

  Her throat felt like sandpaper, so she choked back the tears and reached into her purse for a stick of gum. As she dug around the bottom of her bag, her nail caught on what felt like the cool metal of her car keys, before she realized her mistake. She hooked the chain around her pinky finger and pulled, feeling a twinge of hope the instant she spotted Saint Christopher’s shiny image. A miracle, hallelujah.

  She put the medallion around her neck, squeezing the amulet tight in her palm as she closed her eyes and said a little prayer. “Listen, Chris,” she whispered. “I’m in a real bind here and Tack says you’re the go-to guy for these types of things. So between you and me, I could use a little help getting home tonight.”

  * * * *

  Instead of claiming the back booth, Tack sat up front at the bar where he could keep eye on the entrance, fantasizing that Dayna would be the next one through the door. He could clearly picture her standing there, beautiful as always, scanning the room to find him. When their eyes finally met, hers would light up and spark one of her electrifying smiles. She’d run into his arms and he’d pick her up and hold her tight for an eternity as their hearts pounded wildly and time stood still and he’d swear on his life that he’d never, ever let her go again because this time, it was for keeps.

  Then a very real hand pressed on his back. He jumped.

  “Jeez, I’m sorry, TC. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, no, Liz, you didn’t. I guess I just zoned out.”

  She claimed the bar stool next to him. “You haven’t been around much lately. I was hoping that meant you and Dayna were…you know.”

  He shook his head. “I wish, but no. Haven’t heard a word from her and don’t expect I will.”

  “Aw, honey, I’m real sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Tonight what I need is a little more drinking and a lot less thinking.” He took another gulp of his beer. “So, how’s my pal Abel working out in the kitchen?”

  Liz beamed. “Oh, it’s been wonderful having him here. Abel has to be one of the most hard-working people I’ve ever hired. Even Mickey is smiling these days,” she said in amazement. “But it broke my heart to think about him out on the street every night.”

  He stared down at the glass ring stains etched into the bar. “Yeah, I know.”

  “So, I made sure he’s not doing that anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s not much, but there’s this old room upstairs above the bar. Back in the day, I guess it got rented out but it hasn�
��t been used for years. The only tenants up there have been cobwebs, dusty old crates and the stench of stale beer,” she said. “A few days ago, I gave it a good scrub, aired it out and after all that, it really wasn’t all that bad. I mean, it’s not the Ritz, but what the hell, right? So I brought in a cot and a few other little things to make it homier, and well, now Abel’s got a little place he can call his own.”

  Tack was speechless. “You are one of a kind, Elizabeth Taylor.”

  “Nah, it’s nothing. He seemed reluctant at first, but I think that was just his pride talking. After I finally agreed to take a little rent off his paycheck, he moved in.”

  “So, you’re serious? He’s living upstairs now?” He pointed to the ceiling.

  “It’s noisy and drafty and far from fancy, but he is safe and not sleeping out God-knows-where every night.”

  Tack gave her a hug. “Thanks, Liz. You don’t know how much that means that you’d go out of your way to help him like this.”

  “You’re the one who’s helped him out the most,” she said, patting his back. “Most people wouldn’t have given someone like Abel the time of day.”

  “Truth is, I don’t know what I would’ve done if Dayna hadn’t encouraged me to get more involved,” he said. “She always believed it would make a difference.”

  “Tack! Over here, buddy!”

  He turned his head to see Dub flagging him over to a booth in the back. Giving Liz a peck on the cheek, he slid off his stool and brought his beer over with him.

  “Hey man, I didn’t know you were sitting at the bar. We’ve been here waiting for you,” Dub said, nudging toward his seatmates. “You remember Stacie?”

  She wiggled her fingers and gave him an up-to-no-good sultry smile. “Hi, Tack.”

  “And, this here is Stacie’s friend, Noelle. She’s a big fan of yours.”

  He got an eyeful of the exotic brunette in a black lace top. “Noelle?”

  “You probably know me better as Naughty Noelle,” she said with a titter.

  Tack instantly recognized her sexy giggle and had to admit, the package definitely matched the voice.

  He grinned, sliding in on the seat next to her. “So, Noelle, after all this time you’ve been calling in, how is it that we’ve never met face to face before, darlin’?”

  “I’ve seen you around here plenty. I just never worked up the courage to say hi.”

  “She’s pretty shy,” Stacie said as Noelle cozied up closer to him.

  An even bigger smile spread across his face. “She doesn’t seem all that shy now.”

  Dub slapped his hand on Tack’s shoulder. “Welcome back to the land of the living, pal. Now whaddya say we get these lovely ladies something to drink? It’s on me.”

  * * * *

  Dayna squirmed anxiously as the plane gently shuddered with a gradual decrease in speed. “This is your captain speaking. We’re starting our descent into Columbus and expect to pull up to the gate in about sixteen minutes. The attendants will be through the cabin shortly to collect any waste and remind you to fasten your seatbelts. On behalf of the flight crew, thank you for flying with us.”

  Almost home, she thought, smiling as she peeked out the window into the night. It had been dark for the last hour of the flight, and as they flew over tiny specks of light marking out rows of homes in the suburban neighborhoods below, she knew she’d have very little precious time to spare. Just hold on, Tack, I’m coming. Don’t give up on me.

  * * * *

  After a few shots and another beer, Tack was feeling pretty good, but it didn’t hold a candle to Dub’s transformation into a boisterous Mr. Personality. His arm around Stacie, he went on and on about the glory days of The Rise Guys and how they were going to bring the old show back.

  “Well, that’s not a for sure thing,” Tack reminded him.

  “You and I both know we’ll be doing mornings together again. Bonnie’s practically assured me it’ll happen by the end of the month.”

  “Strange,” he said, “don’t think I got that memo.”

  “Shit, don’t tell me you’re still holding out for Dayna to be comin’ back. Don’t you see that you’re far better off not having to carry her anymore?”

  “I like Dayna.” Noelle shrugged. “I think she’s pretty funny.”

  “Well, I think she’s a bitch,” Stacie sniped. “I say good riddance. It’s time for Hot Country One-oh-three to bring back The Rise Guys.”

  “Hear, hear!” Dub cheered, raising his umpteenth shot.

  Tack scowled across the table. “Dayna is not a bitch.”

  “You used to be a hell of a lot more fun before she showed up, you know that?” Stacie fired back.

  “Hey, Tack’s still plenty of fun, right, buddy?” Dub said, quickly trying to diffuse the situation. “And I’ll bet Noelle’s a lot of fun too, aren’t you, kitten?”

  “Yeah, I like fun.” Her hand reached over and squeezed Tack’s knee as she looked up at him with big Bambi eyes. “You wanna go dance?”

  He cleared his throat. “Maybe later.”

  Stacie pressed on. “It’s all because of that stupid deal you and whatsherface made with your boss, isn’t it? I read about it on The Rumormill. What a waste of a good man.”

  “Led him around by the dick all summer long.” Dub shook his head. “Nothing but a mean-spirited cockblocking tactic.”

  Tack leveled a hard, narrowed glare at him. “What was that?”

  “Nothin’,” Dub replied. “But hopefully, you’ve come to your senses about that girl. She messed with your head, then took off.” He wound his finger next to his ear signifying craaa-zy. “Never forget, buddy, it’s bros before hos. If she’d been worth it, don’t you think she would’ve hung around? I mean, it sure didn’t take much to get rid of her.”

  Get rid of her? He suddenly got a bitter taste in his mouth. “Come again?”

  “I just mean that one day she’s here and bam, the next day she’s gone for no good reason. Obviously, that one’s as flighty as a flock of geese.”

  Tack leaned forward on the table menacingly. “You know, speaking of messing with people’s heads, someone sent Dayna fucked-up messages and slashed her tires at work. You wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you?”

  Dub went slack jawed as his eyes darted around the room. “Me? Hell, no.”

  “That’s funny, because I remember you being an asshole to her the first couple of days she came onto the early shift.”

  “Why would I do something like that? Shit, when would I even have the time? I’m inside the control room and sitting down in your chair before it’s even cold.”

  “You know, if she’s crazy, maybe she was staging it all herself,” Stacie piped up. “Some sickos make up stalkers just for the attention.”

  Tack didn’t flinch or take his eyes off Dub. “You really resented her, didn’t you?”

  “Would you just back off? You’re being ridiculous and paranoid to boot. If you want to interrogate anyone, it should be that guy.” He pointed across the bar at CJ.

  Tack looked over his shoulder before turning back. “If you’re shittin’ me, Dub, I swear, I’ll come after you.”

  Noelle grabbed his arm. “C’mon, Tack, let’s go dance. It’ll take your mind off things for a bit.”

  “Yeah,” Dub said. “Why don’t you dance with the girl?”

  He quickly downed his shot. “All right, let’s go.”

  She led him to the dance floor and tried to put her arms around his shoulders, but unable to reach, her hands awkwardly slipped until they eventually settled on his lower back. “I really love listening to your show every morning,” she said, straining her neck as she looked up at him. “I always wondered what the people I heard on the radio were like in person.”

  Tack spotted CJ watching him through the crowd. He glared back, hoping that raising his hackles would scare the punk off. It didn’t.

  “Stacie told me how nice you were, Tack. She also told me that you don’t have
a girlfriend at the moment. Is that true?”

  He finally looked down at her. “Girlfriend?”

  Noelle smiled as their feet continued to shuffle in a slow circle. “Even if you do, I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’ but I, um, I…” He glanced back up at CJ, still being a pain in the ass distraction. “I’m real sorry, but there’s something I need to take care of right now. Could we sit this one out?”

  “Sure,” she said, looking disappointed as they moved apart.

  “Tell you what. Order anything you want from the bar and tell them I said to put it on my tab, all right?”

  That perked her right up. “Okay.”

  Noelle went her own way while Tack cut through the horde until he was standing in front of CJ. “What the hell do you want, Maroni?”

  “Hey, Collins. Nice to run into you, too,” he said with a greasy smirk. “Good to see that broken heart of yours healed so quick.”

  “You’re one to talk, considering the way you toy with women.”

  He cackled. “Me? Oh, that’s rich.”

  “You treated Dayna so shitty, that when she was finally ready to let down her guard down again, she freaked out and left town.”

  “You think it’s my fault she left? Gosh, that’s a nice bedtime story, got any others?”

  He folded his arms. “Yeah. Ever heard the one about the asshole who stalked his ex-girlfriend and tried to scare her into running back to him?”

  CJ raised his hand. “Let me stop you there, Collins. If this is about the hate mail and the slashed tires, you can save your balloon juice. It wasn’t me.”

  “Bullshit,” Tack sneered.

  “I swear, I didn’t do it and I told Dayna as much before she went to Calgary. Even I wouldn’t do something that sick and gutless.” He took a swig of his beer. “However, I do have some related information that you may find interesting.”

  Blood pounded in Tack’s ears. “Well, what the fuck is it?”

  “Now, now. A good ol’ boy like you should know that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”