Morning Man (3 page)

“Why can’t we just bring in a girl to join The Rise Guys? Why does Dub have to get bumped?”

“Because the Mix Morning Zoo already has a threesome and copying them will make us appear desperate. And because I don’t believe in just throwing in a token female like they did. Listeners see right through that. No, two is the right number for us.”

“But with all due respect, Bonnie, why me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he echoed. “Why her?”

With a brandy-lipsticked grin, Bonnie resumed her place behind the impressive desk that dwarfed her in comparison. “Because I know chemistry when I hear it and the instant I heard you two bickering, I knew I’d found chemistry of epic proportions.” She snapped her fingers. “This could take the battle of the sexes to a whole new level.”

Tack stole a glimpse at Dayna.
Trouble, I tell ya.

“You even look good together. We’ll have to pair you up for some upcoming remotes.” Bonnie picked up her ballpoint and scribbled down notes. “And while we’re at it, we’ll do a billboard campaign to announce your new show.”

“Billboards?” he questioned. “The show doesn’t even have a name yet.”

“We’ll come up with something. In the meantime, Dayna will sit in with The Rise Guys tomorrow and Friday and then starting Monday, we re-launch as…”

“
Collins in the Morning
?” The suggestion rolled off his tongue. “
Mornings with Collins
?
Collins’ Crew
?” Once the ideas started coming, it was actually kind of fun to be so agreeable. “No? How about
Collins and Company
?”

“Um, how about giving your new co-host equal billing?” Dayna’s eyes narrowed.

“
Collins and Cook
?”

She wrinkled her nose like she’d caught a whiff of Dub’s wickedly pungent athletic socks. “Maybe if we were opening an Irish pub. Or a shady real estate firm.”

Bonnie pensively combed a miniature rake through the sand of her desktop Zen garden, as if uncovering inspiration. “
Wake Up with Tack and Dayna
,” she suddenly proclaimed. “It’s cheery, it’s easy to remember and it’s got the yin and the yang.”

Dayna tossed a glance behind her. “The yin and the wang, more like it.”

Bonnie laughed and pointed in his direction. “See what I mean? This one’s going to keep you on your toes.”

Only because she wants me bad
, he thought. “I look forward to it.”

“But what about Willie?” Dayna asked. “If Dub moves to the midday shift, then what’ll happen to Willie?”

“That’s my job to worry about,” Bonnie said. “You and Tack start working on the show. I’ll send out a memo to the sales staff and get production working on a promo we can run through the weekend.”

“
Wake Up with Tack and Dayna
.” He nodded, mulling it over. “You know, I think we could have some fun with this.”

Bonnie dismissed the meeting, holding them back before they left her chambers. “Just remember the three Ss,” she said, poking three fingers into the air. “I want Sexy, I want Sharp, and So help me, I want big ratings.”

Tack followed Dayna down the hall and back out to the news desk, his eyes fixed on how tasty she looked walking away.
Behind every great woman there’s a guy staring at her ass
, he reminded himself. Before she disappeared back into her work again, he leaned over the cubicle wall and extended his hand. “Welcome to the early shift, partner.”

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly as she shook with him. “Thanks. And just so you know, this still won’t get you in my pants.”

He grinned. Challenge accepted.

Chapter 2

“Morning show?” CJ gulped. “You’ve been at the station three whole days and they already bumped you to mornings?”

Dayna focused on the cutting board as she quartered and sliced ripened cantaloupe into bite-sized chunks. “I’m not sure how it happened. I just kinda fell into it.”

“No one ‘just kinda’ falls into a gig like that,” he said, snatching a piece of fruit and popping it into his mouth. “Did you blow the program director or something?”

“Screw you.” She glared hard. “And keep your paws off my food.”

“All I’m saying is that it usually takes years to earn such a high profile slot and you haven’t done anything bigger in your career than afternoon drive news.”

“This from the guy whose butt has never once warmed a control room chair before ten o’clock,” she countered.

He reached across the counter and helped himself to another slippery slice. “Granted, it’s the morning show of a shitty fifth-place station. And a country one at that.”

The blade of the knife came crashing down against the wood board, nearly severing the tip of CJ’s finger. “I said hands off!”

He chuckled and chewed the stolen mouthful at the same time. “Ooh. Struck a nerve, did I?”

“Listen, I’m not crazy about living here because frankly, I can’t stand the idea of seeing your face one moment longer than I have to. But while we’re forced to share a roof, we stick by the rules. Separate lives, separate beds and separate food, damn it.”

“All right, don’t pop a vein.” He jumped off the bar stool and walked across the kitchen to open the refrigerator. “Jesus, you labeled all your stuff in here?”

She smiled to herself. “Absolutely. What’s mine is mine.”

“Fine,” he said, taking out a beer and slamming the door shut again. “You’re just lucky I didn’t say that while you were riding my coattails all the way to the top.”

“Kiss my ass,” she hissed, chopping the pliant cantaloupe flesh with excessive force. “I never rode your coattails. You never even had coattails worth riding.”

“I seem to recall being one of the references that helped you get your foot in the door at Power Ninety-nine. I also remember recommending you to do the traffic and weather spot on my show. Not to mention being the reason you even moved here last week.”

She pointed the tip of the knife at him. “Don’t you dare remind me while I’m holding a sharp object in my hand.”

“Face it, Day, you owe me big time.”

“I don’t owe you a thing. I got hired at Power because I aced the interview and the PD liked my tape. I got the spot on your show because I drew the short straw in the newsroom,” she said, scowling. “As for moving to Columbus, yes, I suppose you did have something to do with that. But I wouldn’t strut around here crowing about it.”

CJ chugged back a gulp of his beer, then belched. “So, whose coattails are you going to be riding now?”

She slammed the knife down. “Did it ever occur to you that the station manager gave me this job because she thinks I just might bring something of value to the morning show? Bonnie McMulland obviously knows that Tack and I will make a good team.”

“Tack?” CJ crinkled his brow. “They’re pairing you up with Tack Collins? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a dipshit, that’s why. The Rise Guys are a total waste of airtime. They’ve been doing the same fart joke every morning for three years.”

“Maybe that’s why Bonnie realized it’s time for a change. Trust me, there won’t be fart jokes on our new show.”

CJ shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything good about Collins since I’ve been here. He’s full of himself and he collects women like some people collect Franklin Mint coins. I’ll bet he’s already hit on you, hasn’t he?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, hoping her face didn’t betray the worry that she was like a virgin bride in the hastily-arranged marriage: jittery, confused and instinctively compelled to keep her knees together.

“The most pathetic thing is how desperate Collins is for one last shot at a top thirty market. Rumor has it, he’s got a tape on the desk of every PD east of Salt Lake City. Let’s face it, the guy’s peaked. No one in their right mind wants Tack Collins for their morning man.”

“Well, Bonnie is definitely in her right mind and she believes in Tack enough to be giving him another chance,” she said. “She’s taking a chance on me too, so she clearly knows we have what it takes to be a hit. No coattail riding required.”

A guttural rumbling started deep in CJ’s gut and traveled upward until he released a loud, malodorous burp. “I wish you all the luck in the world,” he said, hoisting the last of his beer in her direction. “You’ll need it if you think you can beat Mix Ninety-six.”

Dayna looked into the bowl and picked out the plumpest piece of cantaloupe. She placed it squarely in her palm and crushed it until the sweet, sticky juice rolled down her wrist. “Beat you? Honey, we’re going to pulverize you.”

* * * *

Tack watched Dub get up, silently rifle through that morning’s edition of
USA Today
, then sit back down at the desk they shared. “Are you going to say a word to me before six?”

With a sharp snap, Dub shook open the front section and kept his eyes glued to the page. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Aw, c’mon.” He rolled his head back. “You know this wasn’t my call. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You couldn’t have put up much of a fight to keep me,” Dub said, a hurt whimper in his voice. “After three years, is that too much to ask?”

“Of course I tried to keep you, man. I told Bonnie that if she wanted to add a girl to the show, fine, but she didn’t have to bust up The Rise Guys.”

“Well, your plea obviously did jack shit.”

“It’s not like you completely got the shaft. You’re getting your own show, so you’re actually coming out ahead.”

Dub folded down the paper so he and Tack were eye to eye. “Take a good look at me. I’m not a big guy. I’m not a good-looking guy. Hell, I’m not even that smart of a guy,” he said. “The only thing I had going for me was being able to say that I’m half of The Rise Guys.”

Tack had to admit that maybe Dub had something there. He was a slight, prematurely-bald fellow with an egg-shaped head. Humpty Dumpty with headphones. “But you’re a funny guy. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, hot chicks always dig the funny ones,” Dub said sarcastically.

“You know they do. Didn’t I read that this month’s Playmate is looking for a man with a great sense of humor?”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ve seen you out there,” he said. “You do okay with the ladies.”

Dub pointed to his mouth. “Read my lips, dummy. I had a great opening line and thanks to you, I can never use it again. No one wants to go home with the guy who does the midday show. Midday is nothing but background noise at the office. It’s what plays while the dental hygienist is scaling your molars,” he grumbled. “No one makes a point of tuning into the midday show.”

“You’re forgetting that Dub Birmingham is already a name in this town. You’ve got a built-in following.”

“Who are you kidding? You’re the star and I’m the sidekick. I’m the Tonto to your Lone Ranger. I’m the Robin to your Batman. And no one ever wanted Robin to show up and save them if Batman got hung up somewhere.”

“Jeez, that’s quite the inferiority complex you’ve got going there, pal.”

“I’m the Barney to your Fred.”

“I get it,” Tack said, screwing down his cap.

“I’m the Tubbs to your Crockett.”

“All right, knock it off already.”

Dayna suddenly appeared in the doorway, dressed in a pair of tight white jeans and a purple top with a zip-up front that made Tack to do a double take. “Don’t forget the Donkey to his Shrek,” she said with a sassy grin. “Personally, I’ve always been partial to the ass.”

“Definitely one of my favorites too, sugar.” He leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk, pretending not to stare as she walked into the room.

“Morning, gents.” She shrugged off her purse and shoulder bag, dropping them on the desk with a heavy thud-thud. “So, what are we up to?”

“Actually, I’m just leaving to put on the coffee,” Dub said, scrambling to his feet. He stood behind his chair and held it out for Dayna. “Here, by all means, take my spot. It’s not like I’ll have it much longer anyway.”

Her lips puckered at his acrid tone. “Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, hesitating a moment before parking herself. She waited a beat after Dub left the room before asking, “What was that?”

Tack shrugged. “Aw, he’s pissed.”

“At me?”

“At you, at me, at Bonnie, at the whole damn world. He’s mad he got bumped from the morning show. Says I didn’t fight hard enough to keep him.”

“But those orders came from the top. That’s not your fault.”

“Try telling that to him.” He slid the
Dispatch
across the desk. “So, how do you want to do the show? You want to take entertainment news?”

“Oh,” she said, staring down at a photo of the latest drunken starlet to take a perp walk in handcuffs. “I kind of assumed I’d hang back and do the weather. That way, Dub could still handle the news, traffic and sports plus all your usual banter.”

“No, you do traffic, weather and the showbiz stuff and then join us for the prize questions, okay?”

“I just don’t want to tread on anybody’s toes.”

“You’re not, so stop worrying about Dub. I don’t know why he’s being such a tool.”