Morning Man (32 page)

“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.”

“I swear, Maroni, you’re three seconds from being fed meals through a straw. Start talking.”

“Jeez, okay,” he said. “I was here a few nights back and I overheard a couple of guys in the can talking about Day.”

“You sure about that?”

“One of them mentioned her by name. Obviously, I thought that was a pretty interesting choice for urinal chatter, so I took my time at the sinks and kept listening.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I heard him say that Dayna getting called to Calgary the same week that
The Rumormill
broke the story about your sick little abstinence agreement wasn’t a coincidence. Turns out, the whole thing was a set up to get her to leave the station. Someone who’s old buddies with the PD in Calgary called in a huge favor.”

Tack’s blood pressure skyrocketed so fast he was woozy. “So, the job in Canada wasn’t even legit?”

“Oh no, there’s a legit job opening in the morning show and they’re definitely interested in hiring Day. But she would’ve never got the call unless she’d had a big fan right here in Columbus send in a tape of your show.”

“You didn’t happen to catch the name of that guy in the can, did you?”

CJ smirked.

“Spit it out, Maroni. Did you or didn’t you?”

“No, but I certainly know him and so do you,” he said. “As a matter of fact, you were just having beers with him.”

Dub.
Tack seethed, his scorching eyes burning through to the back booth where the little weasel was whispering sweet nothings in Stacie’s ear. “Fuck, I knew it.”

“Sorry. Getting stabbed in the back by your own partner? Man, that’s real shitty.”

“Dub’s not my partner,” he said firmly, trying to decide his next course of action and how much time he’d have to serve behind bars because of it. His raging homicidal thoughts were interrupted by Noelle as she sauntered up with a pink daiquiri complete with a straw and two paper umbrellas.

“Look at what you just bought me,” she said to Tack before CJ stole her attention. “Well, hellooo there, handsome.”

Instantly recognizing the potential groupie-meets-dopey love connection, Tack did the honors. “Noelle, I’d like you to meet CJ Maroni from Mix Ninety-six.”

“Mix Ninety-six? I listen to your station all the time,” she said, before realizing her faux pas. “I mean, when I’m not listening to your show, Tack.”

“CJ is the drive-shift announcer. He’s on the air every afternoon.”

“Ooh, really? I looove afternoon announcers, they’re always so cool and smooth.” She licked her lips and slid her hand up CJ’s bicep as if Tack was suddenly invisible. “Why don’t we find a quiet spot and you can tell me all about what you do on the radio?”

“Sure. Then maybe you’d like to take a spin in my Firebird? It’s a classic.”

Noelle giggled. “Ooh, yes please.”

CJ grinned, barely able to pry his eyes away from the bubbly brunette as they linked arms. “I think I may have slightly misjudged you, Collins. You’re all right.”

Tack left the evenly-matched pair to their own devices and returned to the booth, rolling up his sleeves as he prepared to give his former co-host the throttling of his life. But as he neared the table where Dub and Stacie were now heavily involved in the shadows, a decidedly different idea occurred to him. He crossed the barroom to the pool tables and found the biggest badass in the joint chalking up his cue stick, a veritable toothpick compared to the size of his giant, meaty paws. “It’s Knuckles, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” the vicious biker replied with a deep rumble so low that it resonated like a bass line.

“You’re with Stacie?”

Knuckles inflated his enormous chest, expanding to twice its size as he flexed his pumped-up muscles. The guy could easily bench press a rhinoceros without breaking a sweat. “Yeah, what the hell’s it to ya?”

“Hey man, it’s all good,” Tack said, backing off as soon as he saw the nostrils of fury flaring. “Just thought you might be interested to know there’s a little bald dude in the back booth with his tongue down her throat.”

* * * *

By the time Dayna got off the plane, reunited with her re-routed suitcase, found her car and loaded her bags, she was punch-drunk from fifteen hours of travel and the delirium of being back in Ohio. She drove away from the airport and onto the expressway ramp, her little Beetle picking up speed in the middle lane of the bridge. As she passed by a
Wake Up with Tack and Dayna
billboard, she sighed with relief that it was still up after her two-week hiatus. Hopefully, that meant she still had a job to come back to. Whether or not she still had Tack was something else entirely.

She pulled into the lot of his apartment complex after eleven. His truck was missing. Out, she sighed, debating whether to wait or try tracking him down at the Roadhouse. If he didn’t come home, she would be crushed, and if she walked into the bar and saw him with someone new, she’d be devastated. Maybe the best thing would be to just let it be, stay in a motel and come back in the morning. “No,” she admonished herself, parking in one of the visitor stalls. “I’m through with running.”

She pressed the buzzer at the entrance and waited for an answer. Nothing. She tried once again before a pretty Bahamian girl in a yellow mini-dress stepped out of the elevator and slinked to the front door. “Makin’ a booty call or forgot your keys?”

“Uh, neither. I’m just visiting a friend of mine who lives here.”

The girl shook her finger. “Hey, wait a minute. I know you from somewhere, don’t I? Maybe I’ve seen you at the club?”

“No, I don’t think…”

She snapped her fingers. “Yeah. You’re the one on the billboard with Tack.”

Things were suddenly looking up. “You know Tack?”

“Sure, everyone in the building knows Tack. He’s like a celebrity ’round here.”

“Oh? Well, yeah, of course he is. I’m Dayna.”

The girl held the door open wider. “I’m LaKisha. C’mon in.”

Dayna followed her inside, dragging her bags behind her as they walked to the elevator. “By chance, have you seen Tack this weekend?”

“No, but then I haven’t been around much myself. In fact, I was just on my way out to another party but I left my phone upstairs.”

Both women stepped into the empty elevator cab. LaKisha’s hand hovered over the buttons before pressing five and then lighting up the three at Dayna’s request. When they arrived, Dayna thanked her and hauled her bags down the corridor to Tack’s door. Although there was little point in knocking, she tried anyway. No answer. Realizing she might have a very long night and an even longer wait ahead of her, she pushed her things off to one side, creating a makeshift nest in the hallway. She lay down, her knees tucked in close and her weary head resting on the edge of her canvas carry-on. She stared at the patterns in the abstract wallpaper as if studying one of those stereogram optical illusions, waiting for hidden images to pop out. After focusing on a minotaur, a rubber duck and Gandhi in half profile, her heavy eyelids finally closed.

* * * *

Tack detached himself from Dub’s fate. Whatever punishment happened to be doled out to that loser was indisputably deserved for everything he’d done to Dayna and the hell he’d put them both through. Best of all, Knuckles was taking care of it all, conveniently keeping him from having to bloody his own hands.

He locked the truck and swung his key ring around his finger, resigned to calling it a night before midnight on a long weekend.
Ain’t as good as I once was
, he smirked, entering the elevator sitting open on the ground floor. Slumping against the wall, he pressed three and closed his eyes, making a wish that wherever Dayna might be, whatever she might be doing and whoever she might be doing it with, she would somehow know that he was thinking of her at that moment. Despite the distance keeping them apart, he’d never felt closer to her.

* * * *

There was a faint rumbling vibration in the floor as the elevator slowed to a stop and a soft, bell-like ding heralded its arrival. Dayna blinked groggily, realizing that she must’ve fallen into a cat nap. She rubbed her eyes and did a quick drool check before sitting up and stretching out her cricked-up neck. Maybe lying down wasn’t such a crackerjack idea.

“Dayna?”

Her head whipped around and a gasp caught in her throat as she froze. Tack. His startled smile turned into a laugh and suddenly the air in the corridor between them began to move again. She leapt to her feet and rushed into his arms and when they closed tight around her, she knew, really knew, that she was home at last.

Chapter 20

Tack was sure his pounding heart would burst right out of his chest. If holding Dayna was only a dream, some divine but cruel trick his subconscious dared to play in his fragile state, he was determined never to wake up. “What? I mean, how did–” He stammered, blinking away the tears that pricked at his eyes. “When?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” she said, pulling his mouth down to hers, instantly releasing a torrent of relief.

He hadn’t even believed it possible to need someone so much. But now that she was standing here in front of him, holding him, kissing him back with as much fervency as surged inside him for her, their reconnection solidified what he knew in his bones and felt in his soul. She was The One.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you,” she said, her hands on both sides of his face.

He saw a light in her eyes that had never been there before. “I’ve been going crazy without you, sugar. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I tried, believe me, I tried.” She slowly pulled back without pulling away. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you everything.”

* * * *

He brought in her bags, setting them down just inside the door. She ran her hand over his back, needing to touch him in reassurance that this moment, this man, was very real. He turned and embraced her tight again. “It feels so good to hold you,” he whispered into her hair.

“I was so scared I’d be too late,” she said, tears filling her eyes as the terrifying notion seeped into her imagination. “Especially after I got your message saying you needed to hear from me by Labor Day, and then I couldn’t get hold of you and I ended up stranded on stand-by in Phoenix–”

“Phoenix?”

“Trust me, it’s a very long story that will only add to what has been a very, very long day. But I’m here now and so are you and that’s all that matters.” She stepped back and took the medallion from around her neck and put it over Tack’s head where it belonged, smoothing it flat against his chest. “By the way, Saint Christopher really knows his stuff. Having him with me probably saved whatever is left of my sanity.”

He smiled. “Bet you could use a stiff drink, huh?”

“Oh man, like you can’t imagine.”

With a squeeze of her hand, he led her to the couch, departing momentarily to fix them both a potent rum and Coke. She put her feet up and released a deep sigh as the full veracity of being in the same room together began to sink in. He brought over the drinks and sat down next to her. “So, you did get my messages?”

“I did and I loved every single one,” she said. “But I couldn’t get any of them until last night. See, I accidentally broke my cellphone after the last time we talked. Remember? You were at the Rascal Flatts concert with Miss Fuck-Me Heels?”

He crinkled his brow. “Who?”

“That little slut begging you to dance the whole time we were on the phone.”

“Heh. You must mean the piss tank who tossed her cookies all over the suite. Oh yeah, she was hot.” Tack rolled his eyes. “Too bad no one held her hair back for her.”