Morning Man (30 page)

The line rang three times, four times, five. “One-oh-three.”

She furrowed her brow, realizing that she’d been put through to the control room instead of the front desk. “Dub?”

“You got him. What can I do you for?”

“Dub, it’s me, Dayna!” she exclaimed. “Is Tack still there?”

“No, he’s long gone,” he said. “I saw his truck peel out of here as soon as he got off the air. Must’ve been in a real hurry to start his weekend.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that he just–”

“Nope,” Dub said. “You missed him by a mile. Sorry.”

“I really need to reach him. See, I’m still in Calgary but my cellphone’s broken and the memory got erased so I don’t have access to my phone book and I couldn’t think of any other way to reach him and it’s super important that I get a hold of him because it’s the long wee–”

“Whoa, slow down there, sister.”

She took a breath. “You wouldn’t know Tack’s home number off the top of your head, wouldja?”

“No, but we’re going fishing this weekend.”

“Great. Would you mind giving him a message for me?”

“Sure thing. Shoot.”

“Please tell him that I’m very sorry I haven’t called and that I’m staying at the Palliser Hotel in Calgary. He can reach me there. Let him know that I really need to talk to him and that I miss him very, very much.”

“Palliser. Need to talk. Miss him. Got it,” Dub said. “Anything else?”

“Yes, please tell him…” she paused to exhale. “Tell him that if he still wants me home for Labor Day, he only has to say the word and I’ll come back.”

“Got it, Dayna. I’ll be sure to pass on the message as soon as I see him.”

“Thanks so much, Dub. It means a lot.”

“No worries, you can count on me,” he said, and then hung up.

* * * *

Tack pushed open the control room door and gave Dub a quick wave. “Hey man, I’m gonna take off. Just wanted to say have a good long weekend.”

“Wait…” Dub called out before the door closed.

He poked his head back in. “Yeah?”

“I know you’ve been kind of down in the dumps lately. But it’s gonna be a beautiful weekend. How ’bout we get out and do some fishing? It’s been a long time.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t make good company anyway. I’ve got a remote on Saturday and after that, I’m just gonna lay low.”

“Aw, I hate seeing you moping around like this,” Dub said, the console momentarily stealing his attention before he looked back up. “I’m real sorry about Dayna, man, but it looks like she’s gone for good.”

“Yeah, I know.” He hung his head.

“Buddy to buddy, the best thing would be for you to get your mind off her as soon as possible and move on,” he said. “Maybe what you need isn’t fishing as much as it is hunting. You know, get back out into the wild to sharpen the ol’ Tack Attack instinct?”

“Sorry, Dub. I’m just not feelin’ it like I used to.”

“Well, hell, it’s time to shake it off. Let’s go party and blow off some steam Sunday night at the Roadhouse. We never did get around to having those beers.”

“True.”

“Plus, the next day’s a holiday so you can sleep it off.” A big serpentine grin snaked up on his face. “Come on, whaddya say? For old time’s sake?”

Tack rubbed his tired eyes. “Sure, why not?”

“Fuckin’ A!” Dub’s fist punched through the air. “This weekend, The Rise Guys ride again.”

* * * *

Saturday night, Gord and his wife Laurie hosted a pool party for the Q92 staff, including the three candidates awaiting the imminent announcement of who had been chosen to join the Big Country morning team. Despite the festivities, Dayna wasn’t in the mood to party. Instead, she stole a quiet moment alone on a wicker-back hanging swing, content to nurse a half-finished beer.

“Mind if I join you?” Laurie asked.

She smiled and slid over to one side of the swing. “Take a load off.”

Laurie sat down with a berry-flavored wine cooler and kicked off her wedge sandals in the grass, wiggling her bare toes free.

“Great job throwing this shindig together, everyone’s having a blast,” Dayna said.

“Not quite everyone,” Laurie said, clinking the neck of her bottle with the one in her seatmate’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, just collecting my thoughts. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

“Ah,” Laurie said with a knowing nod. “Feeling homesick?”

“A little. Tonight especially feels like I’m a long way away.”

“You’re missing someone, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s missing me quite as much.”

Laurie beckoned for Dayna to be more forthcoming. “Come on, tell me.”

“Two words–radio guy.”

“Hey, story of my life,” she said, nudging her chin at Gord, flipping another batch of burgers at the grill. “So who is he?”

Dayna slowly released a deep, pent-up sigh. “My morning show co-host,” she said, going into the whole sordid story of how Bonnie teamed her up with Tack because of their chemistry and then used it to keep them apart.

“So you mean, this weekend was finally supposed to be…”

“Yup, we were holding out for Labor Day.” She clucked her tongue. “Only somewhere along the way, I stupidly fell in love with him.”

Laurie looked confused. “But he’s still there and you’re here?”

“It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Eventually, he’d end up like all the other guys who picked up and left me for their only true love. Radio.”

“Ah, so you said, ‘Screw you. This time, I’m leaving first.’”

“Something like that.” Dayna bowed her head in cowardice.

“You know, Gord’s a radio guy. He’s been a morning man for the past twenty-five years, and my husband for twenty-two of them. I’m not saying it always works out, but you know, it is possible.”

“So, what’s the secret?”

“I don’t think there’s any secret, although there has been a fair share of sacrifice made on both our parts,” Laurie said. “In the early years, we did move a lot. But whether work took us to a big city or a small northern mining town, we went together. I knew that was part of the deal when we got married. Eventually, we wanted a family and neither of us wanted to uproot and replant our kids every few years. So, we made the decision to settle down and stay put in one place until they were old enough to be on their own.”

“But you ended up here in Calgary?”

“Vancouver is our home and it’s where we’ll eventually go back someday. But for now, it’s good for the kids to be away from us and it’s been great for us to be away from them,” she said with a throaty chuckle as she lightly elbowed Dayna. “I’m talking, like second honeymoon great.”

She giggled. “I catch your drift.”

Laurie flicked her eyebrow. “Ya gotta love those morning men.”

TMI suddenly put Gord in a whole new light. “Uh, yeah, I suppose you do.”

“A word of advice? You know how you feel about Tack, but you’ve really got to change the way you think of him,” she said. “Stop beating yourself up over falling for ‘another radio guy’ and start realizing that you’re in love with someone who happens to make his living on the radio.”

“Maybe. I mean, the big pipes, the big persona, even the big legion of groupies, I get it. It’s showbiz. What I can’t get a grip on is the real part. How do we make it last?”

“Dayna, the only thing I can tell you is that you need to communicate. You can’t run from how you feel and you can’t assume you know how he feels. You have to talk.”

“That’s precisely what we haven’t done,” she grumbled. “Since I’ve been here, we just haven’t been able to connect.”

Connect
. The word echoed in her mind. Connect. Unite. Link. Join. Yesss!
Join
! That was the PIN code for her phone: 5646, which spelled join! Her heart raced, synapses sparking as she remembered memorizing the random jumble of numbers as a simple mnemonic she wouldn’t forget and then promptly forgot. Join, damn it! Join!

“Laurie,” she squeaked, grabbing onto her arm. “Could I use your phone?”

“Be my guest. For privacy, use the one in Gord’s den.”

Dayna jumped up and zipped into the house, winding her way through a maze of rooms. With bated breath, she dialed in to retrieve her messages and followed the voice mail prompt to enter her PIN code: 5…6…4…6. Sinking down in the chair in front of the desk, she waited for the automated voice to come back on the line, informing her of seventeen new messages.

To listen to your first message, please press one
.

She hesitated for a moment before depressing the button, instantly linking her to the first loving reminder of how much she had been missed. One by one, she listened to every word of Tack’s lengthy, heartfelt messages, every assurance of his love and a tender plea for her to get in touch soon. By the time the last recording played, her cheeks were stained with tear tracks, especially hearing the tired exasperation straining his voice, along with one last appeal for her to please, please reach him before Labor Day. She was thankful that she’d managed to get a message though to Dub. He’d make sure Tack got it.

It’s not enough
, spoke the voice in her head, loudly echoed by the one tugging at her heart.
You’ve got to go to him
.

Dayna collected her emotions, knowing what she had to do. She returned to the party and said her goodbyes, reserving her final farewell for Bucky and her hosts.

“But you can’t go,” Bucky said. “Really. I can’t stress enough how important it is that you not leave until after we’ve announced who Gordo’s new co-host will be.”

“Whoever you pick, I know she’ll be great. I also know she isn’t going to be me.” She turned to Gord. “And she’s going to be very lucky to get to work with you every day, Mr. Johnson. It’s been a great experience for me and I wish you monster ratings.”

“I enjoyed working with you too, Dayna,” he said. “You sure you can’t stay?”

“Absolutely sure,” she said, looking to Laurie. “I need to be home by Labor Day.”

“B-but,” Bucky stammered. “You can’t take your hat out of the ring yet. What can we do to make you change your mind?”

“Buck, if that’s what she really wants, then that’s what she really wants. We can’t stand in her way,” Gord said, leaning forward to give her a send-off hug. “Good luck, kid. You be sure to drop us a line, okay?”

“I’ll definitely do that,” she said, pulling back. She saved her final hug for Laurie. “Thank you for everything. It was exactly what I needed.”

“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.