The Commando and the Call Girl by Adonisblack1

“To your wife?”

“My wife?” He said with surprise. “Who said I was married? I have to go home and pack so that I can fly to New York for business.”

At this news, Tiffany sat up. “Wait. You’re not married?”

“No I’m not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Because most of my clients are.” Including my “lover”, she thinks to herself. “I just assumed that you just wanted some black pussy before going home to the doting and unsuspecting spouse.”

“I never dreamed that you were this cynical Brenda.”

“It’s Tiffany.” She admitted.

“Who is Tiffany?”

“I’m Tiffany. Brenda is just my stage name and the name I give to the Tricks.”

“So, what are you saying, Tiffany? Am I no longer a “trick?”

“Not after tonight, you aren’t. That is, at least if you don’t want to be one.”

“Brenda…I mean Tiffany, I know that you and Tony Lino are a thing. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, I like you too, in fact, I like you a lot, but I don’t want to end up in cement shoes at the bottom of the lake.”

She laughed. “Oh they don’t have that kind of muscle anymore. Tony is running scared from someone right now.”

Chet’s ears perked up at that bit of information. “He is? Do tell.”

“I don’t know all the details. But someone has been killing close friends of his in the Family and he doesn’t have the means to fight back.

The killer is targeting Tony’s shooters. He isn’t going after the butterass businessmen in the organization.” She told him as she broke all sorts of mob associate etiquette.

Chet washed off and got dressed with the promise to see her again as soon as he got back into town.

After he was back inside of his car, he made a phone call.

“Hi Ms. Mary, I know it’s late, but can you please wake him up? He’s going to want to hear this.”

“Aaron? Aaron! Wake up! It’s Austin on the line.”

“Hello?”

“Boss? I’m sorry to call so late. But man! Do I have a story for you!”

“Well don’t keep me in suspense Agent Sharp. What have you uncovered?”

“I had been trying to get information from some of the other dancers in Sassy yet Classy, but this one; Lisa didn’t really know too much. This one here that I bagged tonight though? Different story.”

“How so?”

FBI Agent Austin Sharp relays his earlier conversation with the unsuspecting Tiffany to his superior.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of.” AIC Aaron Banks admitted.

“What do you mean sir?”

“The Dellasondro’s have hired someone with military training. Elite military training. He could be from anywhere. Russia, Israel, Colombia, or…”

“From right here in the good old US of A.” Austin Sharp said.

“Fortunately and unfortunately, I think I might know who that “somebody” could be.”

“Fortunately and unfortunately?”

“Yes. Fortunately because it gives us the chance to stop him before he kills again. Unfortunately, because if it is who I think it is, stopping him could could leave this city a burned out husk.”

Chapter five.

Dennis Porter sat on his balcony overlooking a popular eatery that catered to the Millennial crowd. At this late hour, it was deserted except for the cleanup crew and a few managers who were still probably tallying up tonight’s haul.

He sipped expensive champagne, puffed on a Dominican Stogie, and thought to himself, “what candy asses these wiseguys really are!”

Big strong “tough guy” Benny Bingo begged and pleaded for his life. He agreed to switch sides, leave town, or even murder his own boss Tony Lino if he was allowed to live.

But a contract is a contract is a contract. And $500,000 is $500,000; and showing mercy is a good way to make sure that your jersey isn’t tapped anymore when the next assignment is given out.

Both himself and Calvin had once been in an enemy prison camp where they daily faced mock executions. Neither of them broke, and neither of them rolled.

Mister, we could use a man like John Gotti again…

It was too bad that Cal turned him down. The two of them could take over this town and set up a force that no government could ever break.

Why the hell would someone with his skill set settle for being so much less than what he was meant to be?

Across town at the mini mart.

Calvin finds that even in the middle of night, it doesn’t take long to get swamped with customers.

“Pump 3 isn’t working.”

“Can you break a hundred? I don’t want to buy anything, I just need change.”

“Why can’t I return this? I only took one bite of it.”

3am mercifully arrives and so does his relief. He’s surprised to see that it is an older black lady who was possibly in her early sixties.

He had already done his turnover just as Dinesh has shown him how and after he rang up his last customer, he’d be free to go and catch the last bus of the night.

Or so he thought…

Mrs. Adrienne Watson, a widow, had worked for Dinesh Patel for 15 years. The grandmotherly woman walked with a slight limp as if she had once had a stroke. Suddenly, Calvin realized why the stool was behind the counter, it was for her to be able to sit while she worked.

“Baby? Could you wait with me until 4am? That’s when some of the gamblers come in to play the slots. That way I won’t be here by myself.” She asked.

Dinesh had several illegal slot machines in the store. The only way you could play them and get paid if you hit, was if he knew you personally or if someone he knew personally vouched for you.

Employees were not allowed to play under any circumstances.

So now, Calvin would have to wait until 6:30am when the buses started back running. But what else was he going to do? Be a dick and tell an old woman that it sucks to be her, he has to look out for numero uno?

Maybe he could get Dennis to buy him a cash car and he’d pay him back on terms. After all, his old foxhole compatriot had more money that God. Surely he wouldn’t mind?

But that was the problem. It was all blood money; dirty mafia money. Although someone would say that every-time he cashed a government check while he was on active duty, that too was “blood money.”

So here he is, ringing up patrons off the clock while Mrs. Watson sat outside and smoked. This was unsustainable. It would take him at least three hours to get home, which put him there at 9:30am.

He’d then have to be back at the bus stop to come back to work no later than noon. And he’d have to do this everyday? Dennis was right, being a hit man was definitely easier than this.

Luckily, Mrs. Watson had suggested to him that perhaps he could take a cab ride home tonight, and to his credit, he took her advice.

He slept the entire way home, only waking when the cab driver roused him.

“Hey Lee Iacocca. You’re home.” The burly taxi driver barked.

“How much do I owe you?” Calvin snapped at the hack driver. Between the rude prima-donna and now this idiot, Calvin wondered when did making an honest living become a cause for ridicule?

“Well young man, I’ll tell ya.” The man said as he turned around and looked Calvin directly in the eye. “If you’ll take a little advice, then consider this ride on the house.”

“Ok.” Calvin said with a bit of confusion. “And what advice might that be?”

“I was in Gulf War 1 in the early 90s. Our unit was one of the few that took real loses. We gave much better than we got though. And for a long time, I had trouble living with myself in the aftermath.”

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