Morning Man (16 page)

Tack cleared his throat. Twice. And again. Her eyes turned up to see him glowering at her across the desk. “Now what?”

“Do you really have to, you know, do that right here?”

“Eat?”

He shifted in his seat. “You know very well what I’m talking about.”

“Sorry, I don’t,” she said, lowering the peel further. “Am I chewing too loudly?”

“No. You’re enjoying it too much.”

“Yeah, ’cause I’m starving.”

“No, I mean, you’re enjoying eating it right here in front of me and it’s very distracting. Cruel, actually. Can’t you find someplace else to do that?”

Jealous of an innocent banana? Oh you poor, poor sex-deprived creature
, she thought, debating whether to take pity or to play it up.

With a sly grin, she suggestively licked her lips and then closed them around the banana, sliding it provocatively in and out of her mouth. “Mmm,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering in mock pleasure like a porn star.

“Devil woman,” he hissed in jealous frustration, much to her amusement.

She left her seat and freed the offending fruit of its peel, dumping it in the garbage before finishing the banana off with a couple of quick bites. “There, all done.”

“About fucking time,” he groused, burying his nose in the local news.

“Gee, for a morning man, you sure wake up on the wrong side of the bed a lot.” She tried to look stern, even though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You big ol’ grouch, you.”

That grabbed his attention. He suddenly looked up from his paper and smirked. “I am not a grouch.”

“Yeah, you are too,” she said, nodding as she sauntered over. She pushed back his chair and placed her hands on the armrests. Leaning over him, she bent down and whispered in his ear. “You’re nothing but a big, sexy, grouchy man.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “Right now, I can think of two ways you can cheer me up.” His palms slid over the front of her shirt, finding the swell of her breasts.

Weak kneed, she pressed into his kneading hands as they coaxed her nipples into hard, pebbled nubs. Damn, he was good. “See what you did? You made us both a little bit happier.” She smiled and stood back to let him admire his handiwork. “Now get back to what you were doing. And play nice.”

Chapter 10

Tack wasn’t exactly sure why he’d hesitated about going to the mission, but it took a week and Dayna’s gentle prodding to finally make it happen. One morning after their show, they drove to the inner city neighborhood, easily finding the St. James Mission next to the Presbyterian church of the same name.

She took the lead, putting on a pleasant smile as they approached three men enjoying a smoke and the midday sunshine. “Good morning. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” one of them spoke up, crushing his cigarette butt under his shoe.

“Can you help us find the person in charge? A manager or director, maybe?”

“That would be Adrienne,” the man said, thumbing over his shoulder. “She’s down in the kitchen getting ready for the lunch crowd.”

Tack hadn’t set foot on church property since the day his aunt was buried. These places gave him the creeps, with that haunting organ music and preaching about eternal damnation. But this church seemed different. As he and Dayna went down the basement stairs, they were greeted by the homey aroma of simmering soup and a felt wall hanging with a gospel verse:
I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.
In reverence, he removed his hat and quickly ran his fingers through his hair.

The dining hall was a bright, warm place with sunshine flooding through the windows. A few people worked to unfold metal chairs around the long stretches of tables, but most of the activity came from the beehive of workers in the kitchen. Tack peeked inside, marveling at the assembly line precision required to make sandwiches and bake cookies, slice fresh fruit and stir industrial-sized pots of soup.

“Excuse me,” spoke someone in a timid voice. He turned and looked down at the sixty-something woman tapping his arm. “By chance, are you Tack Collins?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, I was right. I saw you walk in and knew it just had to be you,” she said, pressing her hand against her cheek. “I’m such a big fan. I listen to you every morning.”

He turned on the charm and flashed his best one-hundred watt smile. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name, darlin’?”

“It’s Carol.”

“Well, thanks, Carol. It’s always a treat to say hello to a loyal listener.”

“Could I bother you for an autograph? My husband is never going to believe that I met you here today.”

“Of course,” he said, standing by as she retrieved a pen and paper. He scribbled out a personal message and handed it back to her. “Call the station a little later and ask for a fella by the name of Jared. Tell him I said to send you a t-shirt too, okay?”

She gasped as if he’d just promised her a shiny new car. “Oh, you are as nice as you are good looking.”

“Why, aren’t you sweet, thank you,” he said with a grin. “Um, maybe you can help me out, Carol. I’m looking for someone named Adrienne?”

“Oh sure, Adrienne. She was making fruit cups a moment ago.” Carol stretched to peer inside the kitchen before turning to scan the room, pointing her chin forward. “Ah, there she is, talking to that lady over there.”

“That ain’t no lady, that’s my partner,” Tack said with a hearty laugh. “Come on over, I’ll introduce you to Dayna.”

He escorted Carol over to where the women were standing. Dayna halted the conversation in progress. “Tack, this is Adrienne Mooney, the mission’s executive director.”

“Hello.” He shook the olive-skinned woman’s hand before turning to his left. “And this is Carol. She listens to our show every morning.”

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” Carol tittered as she enthusiastically shook Dayna’s hand. “You’re so funny. I love how you keep this big fella in his place.”

Dayna laughed. “It’s about time someone did, isn’t it? I’m glad you like the show, Carol. Thanks for listening.”

“Well, I’ll leave you be. I’ve got tuna salad to tend to,” Carol said, stepping away. “But it was a real thrill meeting you both.”

“Don’t forget to call the station and get yourself that shirt, darlin’,” he said, giving her a playful wink that set her off giggling like a schoolgirl. When he turned back, Dayna was giving him the eye. He shrugged.

“Getting back to Abel,” Dayna said. “As I was saying, Adrienne, we found out that he’s been sleeping behind our station. But now we’d like to find out a little bit more about him and see if maybe there’s a way we could help.”

“Yes, we know him pretty well. He’s been stopping by to see us on and off for a few years now.” Adrienne pulled a folding chair out from the table and invited them both to sit with her. “From what I understand, Abel’s wife passed away from uterine cancer. She had been in and out of the hospital for months until he quit his job to care for her at home. They lived off of government assistance for some time, but the medical bills piled up. After Janine died, Abel wanted to return to work, but the factory that previously employed him closed down. And you know how hard it is getting a job when you’re unemployed during a recession. Next to impossible.” She cleared her throat. “He had to sell the house and their possessions to pay off whatever debt he could, leaving the family with no option but to live in their car.”

Tack closed his eyes and sighed. “And that’s how his kids got taken away?”

“Eventually, the children’s school found out and called child services. They have a duty to report it.”

“Do you know how well they’ve been cared for in foster care?” Dayna asked.

“I’m sure they’re safe and have a warm bed to come home to. That’s about as much as you can hope for these days,” she replied. “If it makes you feel better, I believe all three children were taken in by one family, and as far as I know, they’re still together.”

“So, is there anything more we can do for Abel?” he asked. “I’ve been bringing him a regular breakfast and giving him a few bucks, but it doesn’t seem like enough.”

Adrienne smiled. “I’m sure he appreciates that, as well as your concern. But you certainly can’t be expected to continue doing that indefinitely.”

“That’s really why we came here today,” Dayna said. “We were hoping you could suggest some long-term solutions for helping Abel.”

“You can only help him as much as he wants to be helped. Same goes for most of the folks we meet. A lot of them come here to be fed or for a place to sleep, but they don’t want a hand out. They still have their pride, so we’re careful to always respect their dignity.”

“What if we could help him find him a job?” Tack suggested.

“Well, I’d encourage you to talk to Abel about that first and make sure that’s what he’d want, but I would say that’s definitely a positive start.”

“And how about money? I realize it’s not practical to just write him a check, but do you know of some way to give him and his family a hand financially?”

“The mission can take donations, but we can’t set up an account for any one individual to draw from like a bank,” Adrienne said. “But let me give it some thought. There might be something you could do, like arranging an educational trust or savings bonds for the children.”

Tack looked at Dayna, her eyes brightening in agreement. “That’d be great.”

Adrienne looked past them at people starting to line up in the hallway. “I’m sorry, but it’s almost eleven-thirty. Time for the lunch rush,” she said, rising to her feet. “You’re more than welcome to stay if you like.”

“Thanks, we’ve got to be getting on ourselves,” he said, getting up to shake her hand. “If it’s okay, we’d definitely like to stop by again sometime to pitch in.”

She smiled and nodded. “Absolutely, we’d love to have you any time you’ve got a couple hours to spare.” She shook Dayna’s hand next. “Pleasure meeting you both.”

Dayna led the way back upstairs, where the line of waiting patrons started and snaked right out the door. Tack smiled and nodded when he caught anyone’s eye, feeling a different appreciation for who they were, no longer just the nameless unfortunate, but real people, with real families and real stories.

When they stepped outside, he replaced his hat and slid his sunglasses into place. Needing a moment to collect his thoughts and swallow the emotion caught in his throat, he didn’t say a word as they crossed the street toward the parking lot. They walked across the grassy boulevard when Dayna suddenly reached out for his hand. She wrapped her fingers tightly around his and he squeezed back.

“You gonna buy me a late breakfast, cowboy?” she asked when they stopped in front of the truck grill.

“How ’bout you come over to my place and I’ll make you something?”

She held her hand above her eyes to avoid squinting into the sun. “Serious?”

He nodded. “No monkey business, I promise. I’ll just whip us up a bite to eat and then take you back to the station to get your car.”

“Okay. You’re on.”

* * * *

Tack’s apartment was a typical man cave, functional but not especially fuzzy. Dayna took note of the requisite big screen TV, black leather couch and small dinette set in the corner littered with newspapers and a beer box of empties. It definitely had the lived-in look, but all in all, managed to measure up pretty tidy for a bachelor pad. “Come on in, make yourself at home,” he said, throwing his keys and wallet on the counter. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure,” she said, kicking off her shoes and following him into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and leaned down to inspect its contents. “Beer? OJ? I’ve got tomato juice. How about a Bloody Mary?”

“I like how you think.” She watched him pour and measure like an amateur mixologist before handing her the cocktail, complete with a long, leafy celery stick. She suspected it was the only vegetable that he kept in his apartment. So cute, these men.

He held up the drink he’d prepared for himself and clinked his salt-rimmed glass to hers. “Bottoms up.”

She stopped short of her first sip, batting her eyelashes at him teasingly. “Well, okay, if you really want me to.”

“Naughty girl.” He laughed and wagged his finger. “I said no monkey business.”

She pretended to pout as she slinked away with her drink in hand. “Okay, I’ll be good. After all, Bonnie might have this place bugged.”

Tack opened a pair of cupboards and took stock of ingredients. “I wouldn’t put it past her,” he said, closing them again before going back to the fridge and pulling out a few items. “Of course, that’s not giving us a hell of a lot of credit for originality. Off the top of my head, I can list a dozen other places I could be making love to you right now.”

Her stomach fluttered with arousal. Silver tongued devil, she thought, evoking the slow slide of it in her mouth. “A little less talking, a little more cooking, cowboy,” she said with a grin. “I can’t keep these clothes on all day, you know.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, pulling out a deep drawer of pots and pans.