Morning Man

by Barbara Kellyn

  “Hey, guess what? I think I got Abel a job. At the Roadhouse.”

  She perked up a little. “That’s great. I didn’t think about asking Liz.”

  “She’s short-handed in the kitchen and so, I’m gonna ask him, but I–”

  “Tack!” the girl pleaded again. “You’re missing the whole thing.”

  “I’m sorry, sugar, it’s crazy in here. Can I call you back tomorrow? When would be a good time?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy myself so I can’t give you the exact time when I’ll be sitting on my ass waiting for the phone to ring.”

  “Now don’t be mad. This is just not a great time to talk, okay?”

  “Then don’t let me keep you. Enjoy your fucking night.” She hung up, hurling her phone with such force that it bounced high off the bed, tumbled through the air and landed with a hard smash on the floor, breaking into pieces.

  Chapter 17

  Tack carried breakfast and another bag into the alley. He hadn’t seen Abel for a few days, but that morning, he waited in the usual spot. “My friend, hello!”

  He smiled in relief. “Hey there, I was getting worried you forgot about me.”

  “No, never,” Abel said, gratefully accepting the food and eyeing the other bag in Tack’s other hand. “You brought something else today?”

  “A job, I hope,” he said. “Why don’t you have your breakfast inside and I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Inside?” Abel pointed to the brick wall and shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. No one else is going to be here for hours except my pal Jared, and he’s a good kid.”

  “And the pretty Angel Lady? Her too?”

  “No, I’m afraid she’s uh, on vacation for a while.”

  Abel squinted. “Vacation?”

  “Yeah, she went to Canada to take care of some business. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still come in. I want to tell you about a good job.”

  He turned toward his shopping cart. “I can’t leave my things out here or else someone will take ’em.”

  Tack made a plan. “Okay, tell you what. Wait here and I’ll go unlock the back door. There’s an empty storage space inside where we can put your stuff for the time being. No one will even know it’s there.”

  Abel reluctantly agreed. Tack went into the station and propped open the fire exit, then helped maneuver the shopping cart through the door. Once inside, Abel was quiet and wide-eyed as Tack shepherded him past the silent cubicles of the sales department, around the darkened creative department and down the hall to the jocks’ office. Along the way, Abel stopped and stared at a smaller version of the Wake Up with Tack and Dayna billboard plastered to the wall. “Hey,” he said, pointing. “That’s you, ain’t it?”

  “You mean that real good-lookin’ fella? Yep, that’s me.”

  “Hardly knew ya without your…” Abel’s voice trailed away as his hand circled above his head. “Hat.”

  “Oh, right,” he said, tugging at his cap.

  Abel continued to study the picture. “Is that Angel Lady?”

  “Right again. She’s my partner on the radio, remember?”

  “Wow.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. I walk past that picture several times each day and you know what? That beautiful smile of hers still gets me every time.”

  Abel finally pulled his gaze away from the poster and followed Tack into the office. “Where’d you say she gone to? Canada?”

  He nodded as he walked around his desk. “Calgary. Anyway, let me tell you about this job. A friend of mine owns a restaurant not too far from here called the Roadhouse. It’s a bar and grill kind of joint, but they serve up breakfast and lunch and my friend Liz needs someone to help do some cooking.”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about cooking,” Abel said, eagerly peeling back the paper from his first egg sandwich.

  “Yes you do. You told Dayna all that stuff about the cake and the beet juice.”

  “I used to know somethin’ about bakin’, but that’s another thing altogether.”

  “Well, Liz can teach you everything you need to know. There’s another guy there named Mickey. He’s the short-order cook and you’d be his helper.”

  “Helper?”

  “I’m not exactly sure what you’d be doing, but I imagine it would be filling orders and doing dishes and things. Maybe Liz can be convinced to let you do some baking too.”

  Abel washed down a mouthful with some coffee. “Your friend Liz, does she know ’bout me?”

  “Yes, and she can’t wait to meet you. So I thought we could drive over there after my shift is done.”

  “But I don’t look–” he said, staring down at his clothes.

  Tack nudged the other bag closer to him. “I brought you a shirt and a few other things for shaving and washing up if you feel like it. Liz won’t care and neither do I, but what you need’s in there if you want it. You can use the staff bathroom and no one will bother you. We’re the only ones here until almost seven-thirty.”

  Abel sat quietly munching and nodding, as if deep in thought. “Why dincha go to Canada?” he finally asked.

  “Huh?” Tack looked up. “Don’t you want to hear more about this job?”

  “I wanna know why you didn’t go to Canada with Angel Lady.”

  “Well, we agreed that I needed to stay here and do the radio show.” That wasn’t quite a lie. It also wasn’t quite the truth.

  “When she be comin’ back?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Abel looked disappointed. “You must be sad, my friend.”

  “No, I’m not sad. I’m happy as long as she’s doing what she wants to do.” That also wasn’t a lie but not quite the truth.

  Jared sprung in to the office, but suddenly stopped short when he spotted the unexpected company.

  “Come on in, kid. I want you to meet my good friend Abel. I invited him to hang out until the show is over.”

  Jared nodded and said hello before shrugging off his shoulder bag. “Did you manage to get a hold of Dayna?”

  “No. All I’m getting is her voice mail and I don’t know which hotel she’s staying at.” He continued to deny that there was any real problem other than she was probably still giving him the cold shoulder as payback for their last awkward call.

  “You’d better try again,” Jared said.

  “Yeah, you gotta try,” Abel echoed.

  Tack’s eyes darted between them. “Listen guys, if she wants to be left alone, then I’m not going to bother her. She knows where she can find me.”

  “Gee, Mr. Collins, you do want her to come back, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, and she will. When she decides she’s good and ready.”

  “My friend, you gotta give her a reason. You gotta let her know you miss her.”

  “She knows I miss her,” Tack said, flipping through the newspaper and pulling out the sports section. “Now will you both get off my back about Dayna?”

  Abel and Jared looked at each other. “You wanna tell him or should I?” Jared asked.

  “Be my guest,” Abel said, courteously holding out his hand.

  “With all due respect, Mr. Collins, you’re making a colossal mistake.”

  Tack threw down the paper. “Kid, you’re what, twenty years old? When I was your age, I could fit everything I knew about women into a shot glass.” He lowered his voice to a mumble. “Christ, I should be able to fill at least a coffee cup by now.”

  Abel shook his finger angrily, the sudden surge of passion taking Tack by surprise. “Don’t let your fool pride get in the way. You got a good woman there and you’re gonna lose her.”

  “Guys, just drop it, all right? I’ll try calling her later, but if she doesn’t want to talk to me, there’s nothing more I can do.”

  “There’s always somethin’ more you can do,” Abel said. “You really wanna be with her, then you gotta find a way to let her know.”

  * * * *

/>   Gord Johnson reminded Dayna a lot of Willie Williams. He was well into his fifties, but energetic and had one of the deepest, smoothest radio voices she’d ever heard. In just a matter of days, she’d already learned a few tricks from watching the veteran broadcaster in the studio, and his advice immediately helped improve her own confidence and delivery. As much as she appreciated his mentoring, she was getting eager to put her own stamp on the show.

  “So, Gordo, I had an idea for a new segment we could try,” she said during a classic hit from The Judds. “Dating Dealbreakers. We get a single female listener to call in and tell us which of three male callers–”

  “What about married listeners? They’d tune out if they can’t participate.”

  “Maybe, but I think it would be something both men and women would be able to relate to regardless of their marital status.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” Gord said, shaking his head. “But you’re on the right track. Come up with some kind of new spin on the battle of the sexes and we can probably work that in.”

  “Sure, okay. I’ll do that,” she said, sliding around her papers to prepare for the next break. It was tough to swallow getting shot down so fast. Back home, Tack always gave her a wide berth when it came to contributing ideas. Here, it was clearly Gord’s show. He ran the store and Dayna was the window dressing.

  “Look Dayna, I appreciate your input, I really do, but don’t worry, you don’t have to try so hard, you’re doing great,” he said with a smile. “You don’t need kooky games or gimmicks to be entertaining. Just be yourself.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. All the same, I’ll keep working on it a little more.”

  After her shift, she headed back to the hotel in the sporty little Ford Focus the station had arranged for her to get around in. She thought about Tack, imagining him at sixteen hundred miles away and the painful yearning that followed was enough to send her eye into spasm. She held the outer corner of her eyelid down with one finger as she continued to drive, wondering if the twitching, or the yearning, would ever end.

  She pushed through the hotel’s revolving door, but got stuck half-way in the rotation. Looking past her reflection in the glass and brass, she saw someone obstructing the door. When she recognized him with a smile, he let go and let her in.

  “That’s all a guy’s gotta do to get your attention? Get you to stand still for a second?”

  Dayna took a moment longer to admire Brad’s stunning good looks. Forget ranching, someone blessed with that illuminating smile really ought to be doing toothpaste commercials. “Hey there.”

  “Hi. How’s it going?”

  “Good,” she said. “I just finished my shift. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be holed up in some boardroom pouring over topographical maps?”

  “I’m on my way right now,” he said, looking down at her bags. “You in a hurry?”

  “Um, not really. I’m just heading upstairs to order room service and then go back to sleep for a few hours. Being two time zones over really messes with your head when you get up for work at three-thirty in the morning.”

  “Ah, so that’s what happened to you the other night. I’d hoped we would meet for dinner, remember?”

  She blushed. “Brad, that was a very tempting invitation, but–”

  “But what? Is it because you’ve got someone back in Ohio?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said with a heavy sigh, quite certain that someone back in Ohio was probably too busy chasing after fuck-me heels to even remember her name.

  “Doesn’t he realize you still need to eat every now and then? I know my girlfriend doesn’t mind if I grab a bite from time to time.”

  She laughed. “You’re a very liberated couple to allow such an open relationship with food.”

  “All I’m asking for is dinner and all you have to say is yes,” he said with a seductive grin, as if peddling apples in the Garden of Eden. With all senses on high alert, she was keenly aware that dinner wasn’t the only thing on the menu and the longer he gazed at her, the more intimacy she started reading into the invitation. “C’mon.”

  Her gut instinct told her it was wrong and yet, her mouth opened and out came words that sounded entirely different. “Sure. Why not?”

  He beamed. “Tonight at seven? Meet you in the lounge.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you at seven. Promise.”

  After her afternoon sleep, Dayna groggily climbed into the shower to revive for the evening ahead. She then slipped into a slinky black strapless dress she’d bought weeks ago in anticipation of Tack taking her out on the town. Another frustrating reminder of something else that they’d never managed to consummate.

  The elevator opened and her heels clicked on the tiled floor as she crossed the hotel atrium to the lounge. She clutched her pocketbook as she looked for Brad.

  “You’re early. I like that,” he said, leaning in close behind her.

  She momentarily tensed with surprise before turning with a smile. He cut a sharp figure in a handsome dark suit, his black shirt left open at the collar. And damn, he smelled as good as he looked.

  “You must have been following me.”

  “I was in the lobby. You walked right past me,” he said with an Adonis-worthy smile. “But I wouldn’t have missed you for anything, Dayna. You look sensational.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s just a little something from this season’s suitcase collection.”

  Brad offered his arm. “You ready to go?”

  Warily, she linked her hand around his firm, strong bicep. It wasn’t nearly as thick as Tack’s arm, but she felt the benefit of a lifetime’s worth of roping and riding and whatever else strapping young Albertans did. He escorted her out the hotel door, where a black stretch limousine waited out front. Even as the white-gloved chauffeur smiled and held the door open for her, it didn’t register that it was their ride until Brad told her so.

  She blinked her wide eyes. “Really?” It seemed to be luxuriant pampering worthy of a movie star or something equally fantastical. “This is amazing, but it’s far too much,” she said as Brad slid in next to her on the backseat.

  He gave her an easy smile, reaching for the bottle of champagne chilling in the limo bar. “It’s only a car. Besides, we have something to celebrate tonight.”

  “Your negotiations went well today?”

  “They’re done.” He handed her a glass flute teeming with bubbly. “The wells will be drilled in October and the royalty checks will start coming in by the end of the year. The way I see it, it should be enough to take care of my family until my generation’s grandchildren have grandchildren, maybe even longer.”

  “I’d say that’s definitely news worth celebrating. Congratulations.”

  “I’m glad you’re with me to celebrate, Dayna,” he said, clinking the thin rim of his glass to hers. “So, here’s to splurging a little and making this a wonderful evening.”

  * * * *

  Tack set his beer down, grabbed the remote and put up his feet, beginning a search for brainless viewing that would be like sleep-inducing warm milk before bed. He flipped through the channels, but quickly gave up. The only thing on his mind was Dayna. He put down the remote and picked up his cellphone.

  “Hey sugar, it’s me again. Just thinking about you and well, I hope you’re doing okay. You’ll be happy to know that listeners keep calling in and asking, ‘When Dayna’s coming back?’ I guess they can tell the show’s not even close to being as good without you. And neither am I for that matter. I miss your voice. I miss your face. I just really miss you. A lot,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m sure you realize that the long weekend’s coming up. It seems strange that we’re apart after all these weeks of counting down to Labor Day. I haven’t stopped counting down, either, baby, and I hope that the date still means something for you too. God, I really want it to. I love you, Dayna. And if you still feel the same way, just say the word before Labor Day. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. If I don
’t, well, then I guess I’ll have your answer,” he said. “So please, sugar, call me, okay? Tell me that you’ll be coming home soon.”

  * * * *

  Brad took Dayna to the revolving restaurant at the top of the Calgary Tower, with breathtaking panoramic views of the city skyline and the dazzling sunset over the Rockies. Dinner had been a gourmet masterpiece. He’d had beef, she ordered bison, and it would’ve been the scene of a perfect evening, maybe even the setup for a perfect seduction if it weren’t for the niggling feeling in her gut.

  “Forgive me, Brad, I just–” she said, opening her purse and pulling out her cellphone. She looked at the display. No messages. “Hmm.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, but I just had the strangest sixth sense to check my phone.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “It’s weird, but I don’t think I’ve heard it ring once since I thr–uh, dropped it. It broke, but I snapped it back together and it powers up fine, so it must be okay, right?”

  Brad pulled out his own phone. “Give me your number and I’ll try right now.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “You sure this isn’t just a ploy to get my number?”

  “It sure is,” he said with a grin before dialing in her digits. He kept his eyes on her as she watched her phone, lying lifeless on the table. “It went right to voice mail,” he paused. “Oh wait. Now it says your mailbox is full.”

  “Shit,” she huffed.

  “Let me take a look.” He unsnapped the back of the phone and deftly slid apart a few components. “No wonder it hasn’t been ringing. The pins in your SIM card are bent.” He picked up the tiny chip between his slender fingers and held it out to her. “See?”

  “Well, can you bend them back?”

  Brad chuckled, sliding the pieces back into place like a child’s puzzle. “Uh, no, I’m afraid you’ll need to pick up a new one.” He toyed with the keys. “Figures. It’s wiped out your memory and your phone book too.”