The Commando and the Call Girl Pt. 02

"Of course he knows. That's why he lied about it. Poor guy." Javier said.

"Poor guy?" Cleveland said. "Every woman on this list is A plus, perfect ten stock and not ONE of them can carry Tiffany's soaked panties.

I ain't feeling sorry for no one that gets to spend each night with someone like that."

"But she's just his employer." Javier said.

"Nope. Not buying that. Their body language was a dead giveaway."Rodney added.

"Ok, let's do the math here. She's obviously not a ghost writer, but she's a stripper. Calvin works for her so that means that any money coming in is coming from her efforts as well.

God damn!" Cleveland said as he figures it out.

"What?"

"She's selling pussy."

"You think?"

"That town home of hers was easily worth $800,000. Everything in that her place looked like it was imported from Greece or somewhere along the Mediterranean. I counted at least four Hermes bags just thrown casually around the house.

My guess is that she's a high priced call girl and is at the top of that particular food chain."

"That's all well and good Cleveland, but I'm just wondering about one thing."

"What's that Rodney?"

"Is she helping him chase away the demons at night?"

Chap Nine : Easy like a Sunday morning.

Tiffany awakened to the smell of lightly fried bacon, scrambled eggs, home made biscuits, grits and hash browns. That must be the reason that she woke up in Calvin's bed alone.

"So he can fight, fuck AND cook?" She think to herself. "Damn! What's next? Him down at the creek, walking on water?"

"Hey baby." She calls out after donning the mens shirt that she had discarded last night upon entry into his domain and heading into the kitchen.

She panics slightly when she doesn't see him when she realizes that this was the first time she's been alone in her home, let alone her kitchen since she was face to face with the cobra.

"Calvin? Calvin! Where are you?"

"I'm out here Tiff." He calls back to her from the back patio.

She goes out to find a fully dressed Calvin, sitting at the patio table, smoking a cigarette, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the funny papers from the newspaper that he had went and bought.

"Hey." He said as he stood to greet her. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you too. That's a nice breakfast spread you prepared. Are you going to eat with me?"

"Sure." He told her. "Let me go and fix us some..."

"No. You've done enough. Allow me to serve you." She said to him.

Over breakfast, last night never comes up. Calvin didn't think that it would and Tiffany was grateful that he didn't press it. He knew that she was probably dealing with dueling thoughts right now.

Just as he was...

"I'm going to be gone for a few hours this morning." He tells her.

"What? No Calvin, you can't." Tiffany said as the thought of suddenly being alone again unnerved her to no end.

"I can't? But I thought that today was my day off and that I could be whatever I wanted today?"

"Speaking of which. Here you are." She said as she handed him an envelope.

"What's this?"

"It's your weekly salary."

"Weekly?" He said as he pulled from the envelope, a generous amount of bills of all denominations. "Are you sure this isn't yearly?"

"Yes silly. I'm sure."She said with a giggle.

"So, why can't I leave for a bit?" He asked. "I'll be back by one or two."

"Because Calvin, you are going to accompany me to church."

"Where?"

"You know... Big building. Lots of people. Cross on top."

"Tiffany. I'm...I'm not a believer."

"Ok. Then no better place for you to be."

"I was going to see my aunt. She's my only known relative that's still alive."

"Ok. And how long will it take you to get there by bus?"

"Given that today is Sunday and buses run slower, and I need to change buses three times...

I'd say that it will take me three hours."

"Well...isn't that fortuitous?"

"How so?"

"By the time we are out of service and on our way to your aunt's place, you'd still be on the bus trying to get to your third stop.

Cal, you're right. Today, is your off day. And I really have no right to impose on you today. It's just that..."

"It's like what?" He asked

"You've been by my side pretty much since the snake thing and I'm just not comfortable being alone right now, especially since it may be the case that someone is trying to end my life.

But also..." she said tenderly.

"Also what?" He asked as he mirrored her tone.

"I just like being close to you."

"I'll go get dressed."

On the ride to church, a few questions pop into Calvin's head as he throws them out at Tiffany.

"So, what type of church is this?" He asked.

"It's a non denominational church."

"Non denominational...they don't be up in there tossing snakes back and forth do they? Oh shit! I'm sorry Tiffany."

"It's ok Cal. I know that you didn't mean any offense by it."

"Can I say one thing about last night?" He asked.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Please."

"Sigh. Go ahead."

"I just wanted to tell you that last night was the first time in as long as I can recall, that I went to sleep and didn't have any nightmares. And it was due entirely to your laying next to me.

I might protect you during the day, but it seems that you're my bodyguard when we sleep at night."

Tears fall freely down the face of Tiffany Solomon.

"I'm sorry baby girl. I didn't mean..."

"No. It's ok." She said as she smiled and touched his free hand that wasn't on the steering wheel. "It's just that, what you just said is the sweetest thing that anyone has ever said to me that wasn't about to cum in my pussy."

"Oh."

"Calvin, I'm sorry. I don't have a real great filter. I'm going to work on that."

"I don't want you to. I want you to be you. Anything else and then you'd be lying to the one person that you should never lie to. Yourself."

The two pull into the church parking lot and Calvin pulls into the rotund and gets out and opens Tiffany"s door for her. Afterwards, she waited for him in the lobby as he went to park.

The church, as Calvin had expected, had a mostly white but somewhat diverse membership. Tiffany whom it seem, wasn't burdened by her "professions" being known, was very popular and well liked among her fellow parishioners.

"Well, Sister Solomon!" An older black lady in a choir uniform said to them after Calvin had got inside. "Who is this handsome young man that you have with you today?"

"Oh hello Mother Mabel." Tiffany replied. "This is my...my..."

"I'm her cousin." Calvin replied, noting Tiffany's reluctance to break the 9th commandment while inside the house of god.

The silver haired elderly woman eyed them both suspiciously. In very tight circles around the church campus amongst some of the black parishioners, rumors swirled around Tiffany and how she afforded to drive what she drove and wear what she wore.

Her bringing a well shaven, well dressed man in expensive Bruno Cucinelli pin striped suit and Stefano Ricci calf skin and matted crocodile leather dress shoes, would make it very hard to swallow the "cousin" line that the man had fed to Mother Mabel.

Although it was a surprise to see her with a black man on her arm...

After a few more introductions, Tiffany took her place on the "praise and worship" stage as a member of the choir as that part of the service got underway.

Calvin took a seat where he had a great view of the stage as well as a great view of Tiffany. The thought occurred to him that someone was after her still and this being such a soft target, might be the perfect place to strike.

So he was still on guard duty after all...

"Girl. Is that really your cousin?" Charlene Holmes, one of Tiffany's fellow "altos" asked from the choir stand.

"Yes." She replied, no longer seemingly worrying about keeping up the fib.

"Is he single?"

"Yes."

"Can you introduce me to him?" Charlene asked excitedly.

"Girl. I don't know about that."

"What? Why not?"

"He's a bit of a player. You know the type. A real womanizer."

"Yeah. He looks it. But for real though. I just want to test drive his ass. I don't have to purchase him just yet."

"Girl, did you forget we were at church?" Tiffany asked.

"Ooops and oh shit."

"Annnnd she makes it worse." Tiffany joked.

"It's our turn to sing. Get ready Altos!" The row leader whispered down to the rest.

As Tiffany and the rest sing, the pastor of the church moves around the audience glad handing those in the pews. The young Caucasian man looked to be around 33 or 34 with a full head of slicked back black hair turtle neck, jeans and eel skinned boots.

Calvin who was bent over as if praying, gave the pastor a fairly good view of the barcode looking tattoo on his neck.

Calvin raised up when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Morning Pastor." Calvin said to him.

"Name's Boyd... Johnathon Boyd." The pastor replies. "Think we can talk after service?"

"I don't see why not." Calvin says to him.

"Ok. I'll see you then." He said as he made his way back into the pulpit.

After service...

"So, how was it?" Tiffany asked as they made their way toward the exit.

"It was ok." Calvin replied.

"Just ok?"

He smiled at her and then said. "It was actually pretty great."

She returned the smile. "I knew you'd like it." She said excitedly.

"You aren't sneaking out are you?" Pastor Boyd asked as the two filed past him at the entryway.

"Forgot just that quick. Tiff, I need to talk to your pastor for a few minutes. I'll catch up with you."

"John, do you want me in on this too?" Tiffany asked.

"No. No, it'll just be a bit of "men talk." He assured her.

After Calvin had followed Pastor Boyd back into his office, he realized that he couldn't begin to fathom why this man wanted a meeting with him. Was this done for all visitors?

Or maybe just the ones that Tiffany shows up with?

"John...did she really call her pastor by his first name?"

"Have a seat ahhhh..."

"Calvin."

"Have a seat please Calvin."

"Ok."

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Water? Soda?"

"No. But you can tell me what this is about."

"How about I show you?" Pastor Boyd said as he rolled down his turtle neck to reveal a very familiar barcode tattoo.

"Five years after 9-11. The joint chiefs brought all Special forces instructors into the pentagon for a meeting. The goal was to create a force comprised of the best of the best from all branches.

Our task would be to become the blackest of the black ops. We'd fight the wars that would never appear on a tv screen or in print media unless attached to a recognized combat force.

Thus the original Phantom Squad was born."

"Phantom Zero." Calvin said.

"Affirmative." Boyd said as he pulled his turtle neck to recover the tat. "So tell me, Calvin. How many."

"221." Calvin said as he relayed his kill count to the pastor. "And you?"

"176."

"That's nothing to sneeze at either." Calvin said to him. "Tell me something pastor. How do you keep the faces from invading your sleep?"

"A little bit of therapy, a little bit of Jack Daniels. And a shit ton of prayer."

"One and two I get. Two more so than one. But the third one is straight..."

"Bullshit?"

"You beat me to it."

"I knew that you felt that way."

"How? Did Tiffany..."

"No. I could read the look on your face during the service. It was the look of a man who had figured out what was in the oil that the snake oil salesman was peddling."

"I didn't mean to be that obvious."

"You are who you are. Calvin, I'd be lying if I told you that I've never reached out to the Clergy Project and..."

"The Clergy Project?"

"Yeah. It's an organization for former and current ministers and pastors who have lost their faith."

"There's an organization for that?"

"There's an organization for everything." Boyd explains. "The human condition is such that like minded people tend to seek out and group with others of like mind."

"So, you have doubts. What keeps you going strong in "the faith?"

"Bills. Dependents, other obligations...You see Calvin, I do only two things well. Kill and preach. The latter sounds less taxing on the psyche."

"I see."

"Besides, I'd rather believe and be wrong than not believe and find out I should have."

"Pascal's Wager." Calvin said. "

"You're familiar with..."

"Blaise Pascal? Not really, Just the wager. Besides, his wager isn't a very good one. It pretty much paints God as a moron."

"How so?"

"Think about it Boyd. If I say that I'm going to believe in god "just in case"; then an omniscient sufficiently powerful deity would know that I'm simply hedging my bets and that I'm not sincere.

Which leaves me at square one."

"He addresses that."

"Who? Pascal? Then he should know it's bullshit."

"Tell me about Tiffany?" Boyd asked.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why she is lying and telling anyone that will listen that you're her cousin would be a great start."

"What gave us away?"

"The way she looks at you, for starters."

"I see."

"Look Calvin. I know what Tiffany does for a living. I mean, what she really does."

"I see." And how do I know that you aren't trying to pump me for info on her on the sneak?"

"She's a nude dancer and escort. She works for Sassy Y Classy, and was, as far as I knew, the paramour for reputed mobster Tony Lino."

"Good intel. It's amazing that you even let her sing in the choir."

"Jesus said it himself. Only those that are sick have need of a physician."

"Nothing wrong with being a sex worker. Only in that twisted and questionably moral book you preach from maybe. But not in real life."

"Your defense of her does you credit. I have to admit my surprise though. I would have expected her to walk in here with someone who looks more like me."

"A week ago and I would have said the same thing."

"Be that as it may. I think she made a great choice."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Will you be back."

"If she wants me to come back, then yes. Yes I will."

"Until then."

"Until then."Calvin said as the two men stood and shook hands.

After he and Tiffany start the drive to see Calvin's aunt, curiosity gets the better of her.

"Sooooo, what did he want to talk to you about?"

"A little of this. A little of that."

"Not going to tell me are you?"

"Not really."

"Ok then. So, tell me about your aunt."

"She's really not my Aunt. She's more my foster parent. But we all called her "Aunt Annie".

"You were adopted?"

"No. That's the thing. I was never adopted. I aged out of the system. That was when I joined the army.

But before that, I lived with Aunt Annie off and on."

"And where is she now?"

"A skilled nursing facility about three blocks away."

The two pull up and are buzzed into the facility.

They sit in the lobby, waiting for Aunt Annie to be brought in. Once again, Tiffany realizes how little she knows about Calvin. But suddenly, she feels that she's going to enjoy learning everything she can about her lover/bodyguard.

When they roll her out in the wheelchair, Calvin is overcome with emotion. The last time he had seen her she was still vibrant, active, wouldn't let him help with thanksgiving dinner while he was home on leave.

But in truth that was 5 years and 113 kills ago. In that time, after suffering both a heart attack and a massive stroke, Annie Masters was just thankful to still be in the land of the living.

"Calvin my son? Is that you?" She said in a rather high pitched almost nasally tone.

"Yes ma'am." He said as he fought back tears. "It's me Aunt Annie."

The really fair skinned woman had long cold black hair. She probably had some Native American ancestry to go along with both European as well as African. She was rail thin. Which was something that Calvin didn't seem to remember her as. She wore a long dress that nearly completely covered her chair, but didn't touch the floor.

Her finger and toe nails were kept neat and trimmed as if they received regular attention.

Calvin gently embraced her as she held him tight around his neck. "Don't you start crying on me Love; or we'll both be in a puddle of tears." She said to him.

"Ok."

"So tell me Calvin. Who is this beautiful young lady that you brought with you for our visit?" She asked as she gestured in Tiffany's direction.

But as Calvin started to speak, Aunt Annie cut him off. "On second thought", she began; "you can tell me all about it over Sunday brunch. Now, where are we going?"

Calvin and Tiffany both gave each other the same puzzled glance. Tiffany finds her voice first and speaks.

"Ma'am. Aunt Annie, there's only one problem. The vehicle we are in isn't equipped for a wheelchair."

"Oh, don't you fret none about that; young lady." She said as she pointed outside to a parked van. "I have my own transportation as well as chauffeur."

Calvin picks a trendy spot nearby called B.Davis' Bar and Grill. A lot of young black urban professionals frequent the place due to its rustic décor, and New Orleans Jazz overtones.

On Sunday. A saxophonist is generally visible, playing some of the latest R&B hits with his Sax for tips. As he takes his breaks, tunes from the 70s till the present can be heard piped through the sound system.

"Tiffany. You should have seen Calvin when he first came to me." Annie Masters said as they sat and ate. "He was eight years old and was so shy, so despondent.

By the time he left however; he'd stand up for anyone that needed it. He became my go to guy whenever we got new kids in so that no one would bully them."

"Oh really?" An intrigued Tiffany asked. She was very interested in getting Calvin's backstory, and Aunt Annie, outside of the man himself, would be the only way she'd ever have the 411.

"I used to ask him what he wanted to be when he grew up and his answer was always that he wanted to become a doctor."

"He did?"

"Girl yes." She said, the nasal sound now completely gone from her voice. "When he stopped by one day to tell me that he had opted to join the army as opposed to college, I must have cried three days straight."

"Why didn't you follow your dream Calvin?" Tiffany asked.

He paused to collect his thoughts. In truth, he hadn't thought about the "why" in years. He had even all but forgotten about his one time dream. He was hesitant to relive it, more for Aunt Annie's sake than his own.

"It would have been too difficult to pull off. I couldn't burden the little support system I did have with 8 to 10 years of schooling."

"I would have helped you in any way possible Calvin. You know this." Annie said in reply.

"And I wasn't comfortable putting that burden on you."

"You had the grades for it."

"Where is that waiter?" Tiffany asked. "I need another mimosa like yesterday."

"I'll go fetch him." Calvin offers.

After he leaves the two of them alone, Annie smiles approvingly at Tiffany.

"Very clever."

"What?"

"You got him to leave the table so that we could talk behind his back. Now, what would you like to know about him?" Annie asked.

"Everything." She replied. "Who are his birth parents. Why did they give him up?"

"Sadly child. We never knew. As far as I could recall, he had been taken to a fire station as a new born and dropped off there; no questions asked.

The last name Jefferson, belonged to one of the firefighters that got him to the hospital."

"But how was it that such a cute little boy didn't get adopted?"

"An abandoned infant with an unknown history? Even the most desperate, would be adopting parents ran from that."

"And I thought that my upbringing was shitty. Excuse my language." Tiffany said.

"No offense taken dear. I've let loose with myself with much worse in my day." She rifled through a flower print handbag. "Here. This was taken on his first day of third grade," she said as she handed Tiffany a Polaroid photo.