A year later...
The sounds of the construction men working outside woke Calaway up with a start. He quickly pulled out a Kimber 1911 from under his pillow and went through his apartment with it at the ready. When he discovered nobody in his apartment, Calaway sighed and wiped sweat from his face.
It had been that way with him for a while now. Every loud bang, or every ticking sound made him think of gun shots or bombs going off and he would relive all of the events that he had endured over the past nine years.
Calaway was part of the Delta Forces, which was short for the U.S. Army's 1st Special Forces Operation Detatchment-Delta, one of the United States' elite counter terrorism and Special Missions Units. The son of a Korean War and Vietnam War vet, Calaway enlisted in the Army in 1983 at the age of 18. He was moved to North Carolina, where he had to go through rigorous, nearly inhuman training. A hundred meter swim fully clothed, 55 push ups in 2 minutes, 62 sit ups in two minutes, and a 45 mile march while carrying a 45 pound rucksack over rough land was one of the many tough tests he had to endure. And not to mention sitting in front of psychologists and the Delta commander himself asking him many questions, trying to mental drain him. But he passed everything they could throw at him. Even the commander commented on him being like a machine. When he had been selected, he had to undergo a 6 month Operation Training Course, where he received a Marksmanship Badge and President's Hundred Tab.
Later that year, he was one of many assigned to Operation Urgent Fury, where the U.S. invaded Grenada. He and other Delta operators had to shimmy down a rope, where they got caught in a crossfire. It was intense. Calaway remembered vividly as he watched a fellow soldier, Haskins get his head blown off. He would never forget that.
He also remembered invading Panama. He had killed 15 Panamian soldiers during the month and a half battle. He had gotten shot in the thigh, ribcage, and arm by one of them, But it was all worth it as Noriega surrendered shortly after and he had received a Purple Heart and Distinguished Service Cross for his efforts.
Calaway showered and shaved. He then put on a white t-shirt, blue jeans, black boots, and a green combat jacket. He then slipped on his gold necklace. with a double eage coin hanging from it. It had been his grandfather's, who passed it down to his father, who passed it down to him. His father gave it to him shortly before he got deployed to Vietnam.
After he dressed, he took his duffle bag and he got into his car, a blue '67 Buick Wildcat. It was his pride and joy. He had did all of the restoring and rebuilding during his summer days in highschool.
He drove to the Maple Tree Cafe. He sat at his favorite table. The waitress, Maggie, a short and squat young woman with short blonde hair and glasses approached him.
"Hello, Mr. Calaway," Maggie said. "How are you this morning?"
"I'm fine, miss, how are you?" Calaway asked.
"Just fine," Maggie said. "Will it be the usual for you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Calaway said.
"Ok, it should be ready in twenty," Maggie said.
"Okay," Calaway said.
"The usual" was the Big Breakfast Special the Maple Tree Cafe offered. It consisted of two sausage links, two strips of bacon, two pieces of maple ham with eggs, potatoes, toast, and maple tree oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. He ate like a horse. He had to. He had to build up his energy for that day. His boss, Nick Piersanti, usually had him traveling to places like Arizona, California, Colorado, and sometimes, the Mexican border. They were long drives.
While Calaway waited for his breakfast, he looked out the window. He liked to watch people. It was like a 24/7 T.V. show with some interesting characters. Some boring too.
Before he knew it, Maggie had set his food on the table. He would become so entranced that he would forget his surroundings sometimes. He was trying to break himself out of that habit. As a soldier, you had to be on your guard for everything.
"Eat well, Mr. Calaway," Maggie said, smiling.
"Thank you Maggie," said Calaway, without returning her smile. He never smiled.
As she walked away, he began to eat voraciously. His mother used to tell him to slow down as a child or he would choke on his food. But somehow, it never happened, that was just the way he ate. However fast an eater, he was a neat eater. He couldn't stand to see some people eat. They would get more food on their face and clothes than in their mouth. Only babies could get away with that, not fully grown adults.
When he was done, he paid Maggie and tipped her before leaving. He was a good tipper. That's probably why Maggie always took his order.
He went to a gym where he changed into his workout gear. Then he went straight to work. It was a must that he did two and a half hours of intense exercise. You had to be in tip top shape if you wanted to be a Delta Force operator. Never knew when he would be called back on duty.
He showered and changed back into his civilian clothes. He then drove to Red Rock Canyon, where he got out of his Wildcat. He would come to Red Rock everyday and walk for an hour. He liked the placidness of the place, with its beautiful rust colored rocks and sandstone peaks. He especially liked walking up Calico Hills. It wasn't like the noisy bustle that came with Las Vegas. He had to get away from it, so he could still have a piece of mind.
When it was time to go, he drove back to Las Vegas. When he hit the Strip he headed to Caesars Palace.
His boss, Nick Piersanti, was a mob boss who had a stake in Caesars Palace. He had been working for Piersanti for a year as a courier and driver. All he had to do was drive things from point A to point B and be on his way.
Calaway really didn't want to become a driver for the mob, but after coming home from Iraq, he was having difficulty finding a job, so there was no other alternative. Somtimes you had to do what the Romans did.
Calaway entered Caesars. He walked into the casino and went into a small room where Nick Piersanti and his crew often frequented. Calaway knocked on the door.
"Enter," said Piersanti's high nasal Jersey accented voice.
Calaway walked in. Nick was sitting at a table with his underboss and capo Carmine.
Nick was short, at least five foot six. He was either in his late 40s or early 50s, but had a headfull of dark brown hair with several streaks of gray. He had a weary looking face, not the type of guy you would think to be one of the most powerful mob bosses in Nevada. He liked people to think he was an average joe. Somehow, people thought he was was.
"Hey, you," Nick said, "you're early. As always. Why don't you hit the slots or play some poker or something?"
"I don't gamble," Calaway said.
"You don't drink, you don't smoke, you don't gamble, what do you do?" Nick asked. "I hope you're getting laid on a regular basis at least."
Gino and Carmine laughed. Calaway's face remained expressionless.
"Jeez, crack a smile!" Nick said. "I've known you for a year and I've never seen you smile or laugh. You're like a freaking stone statue or something."
Calaway merely shrugged.
"But I wanted to see you anyways, Calaway," Nick said. "I have something very important to tell you."
"Okay," Calaway said, "What?"
"As of tomorrow, I won't be needing your services as a driver anymore."
Nick paused to see what Calaway's reaction was. There was none, but he did speak.
"Alright," he said. "May I ask why?"
"I have a sixteen year-old daughter named Lisa," said Nick. "She's becoming a pain in the ass. I need you to drive her to Ohio to her mother and look after her, until she turns 18."
Calaway's face was impassive.
"There's a hundred grand in it for you if you do this," Nick said.
"Fine, I'll do it," Calaway said.
"Protect her with your life," Nick said, "She's the only daughter I have."
"I will," Calaway said.
"Good," Nick said. "Now I've got one more job for you to do before you depart."
He picked up a small brown package and gave it to Calaway.
"Now you be careful with this here," Nick said. "Don't open this, this is very dangerous. When you get to your destination, make sure you ring the doorball and get the hell out of dodge. Here's the address. See you in a bit."
This is great, Calaway thought as he walked to his Wildcat. I'm going to be watching some snot nosed kid for two years. What am I, a babysitter?
He looked at the address on the package. 12870 Sunset Boulevard. It was in Los Angeles, which was three hours away. He carefully set the package down on the passenger's seat and then got inside the car.
3 hours later...
Calaway pulled up next to a Spanish Colonial Style mansion with a well pruned garden in the front. He looked at the number on the door. 12870. This was the place.
He got out of his Wildcat and carefully picked up the package and walked up the cobblestone walkway leading to the door. He carefully placed the package on the porch, rung the doorbell twice, and ran back to his car. He sped off around the corner before someone could answer.
That's what he had been doing for a year. Delivering packages from point A to point B. Be it drugs, guns, bombs, any kind of contraband, he delivered it. So far, had had done his job without incident.
He arrived back in Las Vegas by four fifty-five p.m. He went back to Caesars where he only found Gino, eating a box full of pastries.
"Back so soon?" he said. "Did you deliver the package?"
"Yeah," Calaway said. "12870 Sunset."
"Good," said Gino. "Nick will be happy to know that crooked assed lawyer that got Nick's cousin 25 to life will be spitting up blood within a week and dead the next."
Gino laughed a deep booming laugh.
"Where's Nick?" Calaway asked.
"He went to take care of some business," Gino said. "But he told me to give this to you if you made it back safe."
He took an envelope from his tracksuit pocket and gave it to Calaway.
"Eight thousand dollars." Gino said.
"Thanks," Calaway said.
"Di niente," Gino said. "So do you want to stick around? Shoot the breeze a little?"
"I'd love to," Calaway said. "But I have to get my things ready for tomorrow. I'll be back here by seven."
"Okay," Gino said, "See you later."
Calaway had no intentions of talking to Gino. He was not one to make idle chit chat. He was there to do his job, get paid, and go on about his business.
However, he was not lying about packing up his things. He was going to do that, then fill up his car with fuel, and then fill his stomach with fuel. He wasn't worrying about tomorrow. It hadn't come yet.