Free Morning Man by Barbara Kellyn Page B

stop, get out and take a better look.
    The mammoth billboard lit up on the side of the road featured her laughing as she sat astride Tack, wearing a dirty-dog grin as if they’d been caught tussling at a private pajama party. The Hot Country 103 logo was splashed up there along with the headline:
     
    Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy to Work
    Wake Up Weekdays with Tack and Dayna
     
    Well, day-um, that would bring the station some attention. Thank God and Maybelline that she actually looked half decent on a larger-than-life medium. Of course, any girl lucky enough to be straddling a shirtless hunk with magnificent guns like those ought to be happy she was alive. Cheese and rice, we really do look hot together. Her eyes traced repeatedly over the image. With a little smile, she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo to send to her girlfriends back home.
    * * * *
    Tack passed two billboards on his way in to work. Dayna’s radiant smile, tousled hair and come-hither red lips reminded him of a sex-kitten screen goddess like Brigitte Bardot. Yet, as seductive as her charms appeared a hundred feet off the ground, it didn’t touch her magnetism when she shared the same space as him.
    He pushed that out of his mind as he drove up to the station. Every morning that week, he’d gone back to the Dumpster to look for the homeless man. Although Tack hadn’t seen him since their first meeting, he’d been leaving a bag containing a couple of breakfast sandwiches and a few bucks in the same spot for the past four days straight. Whether or not the same guy had been taking it, it had disappeared without a trace by the time his shift was over.
    Before he reached the dimly-lit corner, he heard telltale mumbling in the alley. “Hey there,” he said holding up the food, before remembering he was talking to a person, not coaxing a timid animal out of hiding. “I brought you a little something.”
    The man he’d been hoping to see was the same one smiling back at him. “Ah, my friend is here.”
    Tack felt enormous relief as he offered the bag. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
    By the way he enthusiastically tore open the bag and dove his hand inside, it was obvious the man had been expecting that precise delivery. He quickly pocketed the few singles before peeling back the foil wrapper and devouring the first egg-and-cheese sandwich. Tack shoved his hands in his jeans and stood off to the side, wanting to make small talk but realizing that eating would take precedence over table conversation. He waited a few more minutes before speaking up. “My name’s Tack. What’s yours?”
    The man looked at him incredulously. “Tack? Your mama named you Tack?”
    He chuckled. “It’s a nickname I got when I played football as a kid.”
    “Oh,” he said, nodding. “Well, I’m Abel.”
    Okay, now we’re getting somewhere . “Nice to meet you, Abel. Hey, I wanted to apologize if I made you hurry off the other morning.”
    Abel shrugged and Tack eyed his shopping cart next to the Dumpster.
    “Look, I work in this building. Do you want to come inside and warm up or anything?”
    “It ain’t so cold out.”
    “I guess you’re right. Mornings aren’t so bad now that summer’s here.” He shuffled his feet. “So, do you normally come by at this time? I mean, is this your usual neighborhood?” Shit, that sounded bad. “What I’m trying to say is do you live around here?”
    “Yeah, I live around here,” he said, pointing to the Dumpster. “Sometimes I live right there. Sometimes I live over there.” He pointed up the street. “Sometimes I stay at the St. James Mission.”
    “Good.” Tack heard the sound of Dayna’s car pulling up. “I mean, it’s good that you have a place to go when the weather’s bad and all.”
    Abel reached into the bag for the second egg sandwich. “Thank you for being so kind, my friend. It does my heart good.”
    It was just a sandwich. Staring at the