His fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the tune of his inner rhythm. An anxious fidget. It helped in moments like these. The incessant waiting. The lingering moment. The constant thoughts drumming to the beat of an inner rollercoaster of emotion. Silence was golden to some, ever present in some degree to all, and it somehow shrieked of murder to one.

Somehow. The open space between thoughts wasn't it. It was what came about between and after. The voices. And they always came. It was just a matter of time. The silence just heightened the anticipation. The waiting was what killed him. The constant thought of how long till it happens again. Which is why he use to take barbs. To fight the insomnia.

So, he drummed. His fingers tapped away as his mind replayed the tune over and over again. Anything to keep the mind busy. Anything to avoid thinking of the inevitable. And this seemed to work when the waiting crept in. This and barbs. And now his only true love, if his mind would allow his heart to open so.

It kept him sane. Some things couldn't be controlled. Like the voices. But what he could, he did. And planting his foot firmly on the accelerator as the car rushed through the streets, the speed and exhileration of living life as fast as it could be pushed? Sanity.

Pure adrenaline. In those moments, no voices. No thoughts. No mind to be at odds with. No despair. And no need for barbs. Just the feeling of being alive. Of being fully present. Unhinged. And ready to die. As it was only in those moments, in the potential for death, that he was truly awake. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Only the raw feeling of wakefullness. His one true love.

Her name changed often, but her effect always lingered until he had her again. She had a mouth that never quit. And her body, thick in all the right places. And if you treated her right, she was the sweetest. She was always a challenge, but that made it all the more worthwhile. Hard to find, and harder to ride. But so gentle on the curves. You just needed to understand her, to know her, and she was a gift that kept on giving. Christmas every night of the year.

She took his pain away. Every night. Without fail. Some nights she would be in green. Some, in black. And oh how she wore black. It's what he lived for. Seeing her there. Waiting to be approached. Shimmering in the moonlight. It kept him sane. She kept him sane. It use to be barbiturates. Now, her name was Ford. And her V8 kept him up at night.

His fingers tapped away on the steering wheel as a street light flickered on. He took a quick glance at his pocket watch. Time was moving and he was ready to as well. He stopped fidgetting. Focus. Time to focus. His left hand turned the key in the ignition, then he gripped the wheel again. His hands tightened around the leather as he readied himself, his old dusted boot hovering lightly above and slightly on the accelerator.

His anxiety heightened. It always did at this point. Yet he was all in. Invested in the job, his role. The not so calm before the storm. But he lived for this. It was as close to real as he came. And just as he looked toward his right, he caught the glimpse of someone pacing toward them. The back door opened and in they shot. It was go time...

Capazzo sees the Ford cruising down the street. He begins pacing, this was the new guy they talked about. Capazzo hoped he would live up to Dead Poet standards. The boss Cesare specifically wanted Capazzo to check this guy out and Capazzo could not afford to be wrong on this one. He was now a Capo and his words held weight but with that responsibilities like this one came about.

Suddenly the man comes closer and before he knows it he is right in front of Capazzo. Capazzo doesn't waste anytime as he gets into the back seat and yells out.

"Go!"

The driver peels out and takes off like a bat out of hell. Capazzo quickly yells out some instructions followed by directions and doesn't even bother to ask the driver his name and the driver likewise doesn't even bother to give it to him.

"We are going to pick up my associate Adz then afterwards we have to head to South Side, there is someone past due on their collections. You are gonna want to take the next left and go down to Sycamore."

Capazzo continues to shout out directions. A customer of his on the South Side of Chicago had racked up a severe debt gambling on sports games. Capazzo gave him one chance and that was it, with Capazzo you only got one chance, the second chance meant death and death was coming for that poor son of a bitch in South Side, yes death was coming in a Ford V8.

Vesper had been practicing her climbing, which was one of the many new skills she was trying to develop. On the last job she'd done for Mr. Torretta, it might have been easier for her to try to infiltrate the judge's house if she'd been able to skip the guards on the first floor entirely. And so she'd taken to going for walks and climbing buildings. Nothing too extreme, of course. She wasn't an idiot. And the world tended to get... spinny... when she looked down from a few stories up, even if she was seeing things from a window. But moving the 10-15 feet to go from the first to the second story? That, she could do. 

She was resting her arms against the fire escape of a business, apparently closed down, when she heard the roar- or was it the purr- of an engine.

An unknown man was tapping at the steering wheel of his Ford. Vesper looked down admirably at the car, raising an eyebrow. She'd never learned how to drive, but could still appreciate a good-looking car without having any particular knowledge about it. She was about to yell out to Capazzo when he approached, but held her tongue as he climbed into the car with the stranger. She had her own work to do, and it seemed like Cap had business to take care of.

The car shot away like it had been fired from a gun, as the roar of the engines reverberated between the buildings and faded into the night. Vesper glimpsed up at the stars for a moment before dropping down from the fire escape and vanishing into an alley. 

The outside world came and went. Like a typewriter punching out words, she was also the bringer of modern magic through which others could more fully experience life. She wrote their unfolding story on all levels of sensual experience. If any car enthusiast needed a muse, this was it.

Like Zeus to the Greeks, or Thor, she was heard from a far before she showed herself in full glory. The gutty, tuned and worked engine of Henry Ford's latest retweaked masterpiece. Like thunder crackling. You knew how far away she was. And if you got a first hand earful, her engine became a symphony of ecstatic delight. Her every note a welcome reminder of the ever quickening firing of her pistons. First, she spoke to you.

And when she was pushed to her limit, she was but a blur. A flash. A hot streak of metalic beauty. Her shine, her headlights, the first point of contact before the rest of her even became noticeable. Then, her outer appeal. Her sleek body a taste of what was under the hood. Just a taste. Second, she appeared visually.

Her body vibrated under the driver's every command. Felt directly while strapped in for the ride. And even as she sped by, onlookers also got to sense her. Her raw undeniable, inescapeable, uncompromising power. Lastly, she revealed herself kinesthetically.

And to be fully experienced she had to be pushed, challenged, opened up. And she responded. She returned the favour of being met at the edge of one's comfort zone. The driver's heart open and fulfilled. The child like joy, it gushed out. And all disappeared. Even the backseat passenger's instructions became a distant prodding.

He obliged and did what he was ordered, routinely, yet everything was meshing together. The quickly passing streets. What could be glimpsed outside the vehicle under the veil of night, the street lights and headlights of other passing vehicles. The full experience. Himself and the giver of his latest paycheck. Everything became one. Until, Sycamore.

Louis eased off the pedal and let the car slow. He noticed just how caught up in the ride he was. Things became less intense. His breath also became more noticeable, or rather how shallow and fast he had been sucking in air. As the car was manouvered into a parking spot, things returned to a slower and more normal pace. On the surface.

But his mind started to tick over. Thoughts suddenly crept in, like the black of night once light stopped making an effort to keep the darkness from itself. And as the ignition of the car switched off, the headlights also followed and gave way to let the dimly lit street fall upon the black Ford 40B and its occupants. They had arrived at the requested spot. Just as was part of the deal.

There were other stipulations. Like no names. Half of the payment for the job upfront. And for their movements to be exact. To be in line with the hands of time. Precise and on purpose. Some things always fell outside of what could be controlled on jobs. But if you planned it right and willed parts to act systematically, then desired results were practically inevitable. So far, so good.

Louis glanced out into the surrounding area as soon as the car was put into park. He moved his left leg into a more relaxed position and surveyed the environment. Nothing to note. Then he let his attention fall onto the backseat of the car. The guy he'd come to an agreement with was in view, in the rearview mirror.

Capazzo looked at the driver through the review mirror and the man looked back at him. The time for hello and greetings would come but for now it was on to more pressing matters. The two men waited in front of Adz apartment. Capazzo took this time to slide a envelope to the man.

"Like it was discussed half now and half after completion of the job."

Capazzo handed him the envelope and looked through the window.

"Where is this guy?"

Just then Adz came running out the door. He quickly put on his suit jacket. It wasn't uncommon for anyone who was around Capazzo to be dressed in suit and tie at all times. Capazzo looked good not to mention his dashingly well upkept hair. He had a image and wanted that same image to be upheld by his associates that worked for him and thus everyone was required to look sharp and clean at all times. Adz was no exception. Adz finally got into the front seat of the car.

"Sorry boss."

Adz apologized and looked at the driver. He didn't bother to ask anything about him because it really didn't matter. There was a job to be done. Capazzo tapped Adz on the shoulder and Adz nodded then spoke to the driver.

"Ok guy, we're going to the old basketball court over on Wonky Street and Yobbo Avenue."

With that the three men were off to go pay a visit to the degenerate gambler whose account was about to be cancelled.

As soon as they arrived, they were off again. Maybe the speed limit was a good idea. Maybe not running that red light was another. Or cutting off those three cars, one after the other. But where was the fun in that? Where would that tingle in the balls come from, otherwise? And how could she truly be appreciated if not at her full capacity?

The job was underway. The envelope sliding back and forth on the front dash told you that, if her screeching and squealing around and through various street traffic and obstacles didn't. The car itself was fresh off a build. She was being broken in before the job had even truly kicked off.

She had to be appreciated, every step of the way. Every turn. Every gut wrenching almost. That was living. Close to the edge, like only she could take them. Louis was at her mercy. And now so too were the other passengers. After another short but full throttle ride, they made it upon the next destination. An old basketball court.

Louis had spent the previous week learning all the entrances that lead here. And the possible exits. Like a cement river, the four roads that boxed in the court had several ways to rejoin the main surrounding streets. All roads were like this. A reflection of nature. Of the relationship of one thing to the next. Nothing existed on an island. Everything was empty; empty of separation. And no roads were created without others joining.

Part of the fun was knowing them. Driving them. And aquainting oneself with them. Better than others had, could or desired to. Like learning what made your lover truly tick. It was in those lessons that the true juice was to be had. The real enjoyment. It's what took Louis from being your run of the mill wheel jerker, to the promise land of a gifted driver.

What others would call hard work, if they even got that far, he saw as nourishment. The details others wouldn't even touch with a ten foot pole is what got him his nickname. Fats. Because this kind of prep before the job got him hard. He lived for it. He couldn't commit to his role properly without it. It was his four play. He needed it or he couldn't perform.

More than the money. More than the enjoyment of the ride itself. He was obsessive compulsive. Maybe even a little insane. He needed to know every detail. Every inch of the roads to come. The daily timing of the trips too and from, in a different vehicle each time. Seven trips. It always had to be seven. But it set him apart.

Hence the stipulations. No job too small. No names. Half now, half later. Everything timed. Obsessive. Compulsive. But it made him the best at what he did. And every time, every job, he had delivered on his end of the deal. And this night was rolling no different. To make it less obvious of their arrival, Louis parked the Ford close enough but at an eye-shot.

The V-8 was left to purr a few seconds before it was completely shut off. Louis once again relaxed himself. He checked the surroundings. Nothing suspicious. His squinted eyes then looked up and into the rear vision mirror.

Capazzo looked into the rear view mirror as The Driver looked back at him. He then tapped Adz on the shoulder.

"Okay come on let's go Adz."

Adz nodded and exited the car quietly, Capazzo did the same right after, once he was outside he leaned in through the front passenger window.

"We'll be right back, keep the engine running. After this you will get your final payment."

The Driver stared back at Capazzo and nodded.

Capazzo nodded back to The Driver and then turned around. Adz and him walk toward the front door. Capazzo nodded and Adz knocked. They wait around for a few moments but nothing so Adz knocked again. Once more there is nothing but silence. After a few moments there is some noise, it sounds like fumbling and Capazzo thinks quickly.

"Adz! The back door!"

Adz rushed to the back door and sure enough there is the man running for his life. Adz quickly tailed him down and grabbed him before he can jump over the backyard fence. Adz held him by his collar and brought him in front of Capazzo. Capazzo shaked his head in disappointment.

"Johnny...Johnny...Johnny. Where do you think you're going?"

Capazzo yelled at the man and then ordered Adz to take him inside. Once they were inside Adz threw the man down to sit on a chair. Capazzo slowly walked up to him.

"You're late with your payments again. I am sick and tired of the fuckin blatant disrespect. I gave you two chances because I know your father is sick and in the hospital, no one ever gets two chances with me but this is a slap in the face."

Capazzo paused and then continued on.

"Do you have my money?"

Johnny furiously sweating looked at Adz then at Capazzo.

"Look, I have it...just not right now, it's in th-"

Before he could finish Adz sent a right hook across his face immediately opening the man up. Capazzo asked once again.

"Where is my money?"

The man then shook his head and Adz returned with another punch this time connecting with Johnny's jaw. Capazzo leaned over to the now bloodied Johnny.

"You know we can do this all night. Where is the cash?"

The man stayed quiet and just as twice before Adz repeated. Capazzo now began to yell.

"I WILL FUCKIN GUT YOU LIKE A FISH AND LEAVE YOU HANGING UPSIDE DOWN RIGHT HERE AS IF WE'RE IN A FUCKIN FISH MARKET. YOUR WIFE WILL COME HOME AND FIND YOU LIST THIS. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT???"

The normally funny, smiling and joking Capazzo was like a different man. It was one thing what he did in Chicago Headquarters and among his family but this was different, this was no fun and games. This life he lived was not a circus, it was serious business. Lives were made and lost every day. This was no laughing matter. Capazzo took this very seriously. Johnny could see the rage in Capazzo's eyes. 

"Okay, Okay Mr. Capazzo. The money is in the kitchen underneath the sink."

Capazzo laughed and went to check. He knelt down and opened the cabinet and there it was...a pile of cash strapped underneath the sink. Capazzo grabbed it and put it into a bag. He then walked back over to the man and dropped the bag next to Johnny's feet.

"You sly fuck, did you think I was just going to forget you owed me money? Huh You degenerate fuck...huh?"

Adz then cocked his hand back ready to deliver another blow when all of a sudden.

BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There was a loud explosion...it was a gunshot.

Savage. 1907. Louis was looking down his arm to where he was still pointing the semi-automatic pocket pistol. The advertisements certainly lived up to their hype. Natural to aim, just like pointing a finger. And easy to shoot, so easy grandma could. The bullet did drop an inch down and to the left of where the gun was sighted, but it did the job. A single bullet into the mans forehead, just above his right eye.

"I said five minuets total. We have fifty-five seconds left. Forty once we are all back in the car."

Louis turned and exited the back door. As he did, he flicked the safety switch on then slid the gun back into his right trouser pocket. He showed no emotion. He had no time to. Time was ticking. And its hands waited for no man. And neither would he. The car engine came to life once more. Forty-five seconds..

Capazzo looked at Jimmy, he was a miserable fuck, look at him...sitting there in a pool of blood...dead. This could've all been avoided had he paid up on time. Capazzo looked at The Driver who exited and was two minded how he wanted to handle the situation. He looked over to Adz whose mouth was wide open.

"Close your mouth, you're letting hot air in the room."

Capazzo could handle this one of two ways. He could go outside and put a bullet in The Driver for pulling a stunt like that, after all Capazzo was a Capo of the Society and this kid was just starting to walk. Capazzo thought about it for a second as he and Adz were walking out of the house, cash in hand.

Finally they were outside. Capazzo had made his decision and it was the only one that made sense. He walked to the side of The Driver and leaned in. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out...

An envelope.

"This is for you, the other half of the money as I promised. Good work."

Capazzo couldn't harm the guy, this guy was sort of like Capazzo when he was starting out. Another main factor was Capazzo could use an ally like this. This man was stone cold and that could prove to be very useful and beneficial in the future. Capazzo nodded to the man and then got into the back seat.

"Let's go home gentleman."

Reverse. The gear shifted and no later than a second and the white-walled, stock black spoked shoes of the lady were kicking up dirt. Thirty-nine seconds. She was getting feisty. No junk in the trunk, but she looked just as good with her ass leading. Back they shot as the car picked up speed before flicking around.

She was as mean as she was beautiful, when she wanted to be. And when she was pushed to be. And sometimes it was better this way. Sometimes she needed to be. Sometimes, it was necessary for her to kick up a fuss and let it all go. No holding back. Just pure unyielding expression. And if the right one could handle her, give her the opportunity to, both could disappear without a trace.

But it was like playing with fire, like unsheathing and swinging a double edged sword. Both at once. And Blindfolded. Anything could happen, and something always did happen. With a personality like hers, she would leave a trail of devastation in their wake. A ton of burnt rubber and some very pissed off bystanders.

It was routine. He'd done the run a total of forty-nine times. He felt it. The road. Through his hands on the steering wheel, and his body strapped to hers. Her every movement. His body was hers. As she moved, so did he. He anticipated the turns. Even as her ass slid out and they shot around corners sideways, it was controlled. Routine. Anticipated. Burnt rubber.

Till Sycamore. And a row of police cars. The end of the street was lit up with sirens. No escape. As the Ford barreled toward the dead end, Louis had to make a quick decision. Not routine. Not anticipated. They shot up on the curb. With all the practice in the world it never prepared you for everything. Life was a bitch like that. He'd covered all the angles he could think of. Minus a gut wrenching stroll on the sidewalk.

But she was up to it. He kicked her into top gear and planted his foot as she straightened up. The passing shrieks of civilians and the odd scuffle with a chair and pram later and they were past the blockade. She had some dints and left some paint behind, but all par for the story she'd tell the panel beater later as he ran his hand over her. Pissed off bystanders.

A few streets later and they were finally at their destination. The car rolled into the parking lot and took a spot between two others. The engine was left running and the key in the ignition, yet Fats exited the Ford. He gave Capazzo a salute as he passed him, then hopped in the car on the left and made his exit.

As Louis left the parking lot in a much more casual pace, he left it all behind. He couldn't bare to look back at her. Eyes on the road ahead. She gave him one hell of a ride. For that, he would never forget. And hopefully someday she would do the same for another. They had shared their moment. It was fast, and it was furious. And they'd always have that one night in Chicago.