It was a bright, busy, sun shining day in central park. Flowers were still in full bloom even as leaves fell from the trees. Orange and red colors painted the landscape as Fall neared. The scent of fresh morning dew was still on the air, even as the smell of hamburgers and hotdogs began to override the senses. The noon rush of honking cars and yelling pedestrians surrounded the giant park as the city came to life for lunch. Some people settled in to their meals, others walked and played with their dogs, couples walked hand in hand, kids yelled throwing baseballs and footballs around, parents took children to feed the ducks in the pond; overall it was a perfect day. Some would argue -the- perfect day.

John found himself excited and apprehensive at the same time. He'd been planning a job and the only thing lacking was the driver. Just so happened, today was the day he was meeting with Chicago's best... 'Fats' Del Rossi ( LouisDelRossi ). An Italian (maybe even Sicilian) man who was famed on the streets of Chicago. It wasn't every day that John hired out of house, but with the lack of enthusiasm (or talent) necessary for the job he thought it best.

The taller, broad-shouldered "English"-man fluffed his jacket, dusted the arms, and straightened his tie before taking a seat on the bench where the meet was to take place. A small, folded envelope was pulled from the coat's inside pocket and John opened it, skimming over it before hand as he waited for the arrival of his esteemed guest. Confident that all was in order he set the envelope next to him and leaned back, tugging a pack of cigarettes and a matchbook from his breast pocket. With a flick of his wrist a spark jumped to life and he sucked the flame through the rolled paper and tobacco until it burned a fiery orange. He shook his wrist a second time, extinguishing the flame, and lolled his head back to blow a plume of smoke above him as he enjoyed his wait.

The sun. The goddamn sun. Why was it so bright? And why couldn't he see without squinting like a bad smell had wafted past and took a nap on his upper lip? Louis wasn't one for the outdoors. Not before sunset. He imagined that if vampires existed they'd probably feel like this. But it wasn't mother natures fault. Oh no. Louis' drinking and pill munching habits were to blame.

The shine of the moon's bigger more outspoken masuline sibling was a treat. It was life. And the park that it had inadvertently fed for so long was bustling with it. People were pleased to be out and amongst it. The activity of being alive. But Louis, he was far from pleased. And more dead inside than he knew. He pulled up his slim jacket collar and shrugged his shoulders high whilst tucking his neck in just to shield himself from it all.

Kids. Fuckin' kids. As Fats stepped through the park all he could hear was the piercing sound of happiness. Innocent little shit speckles of get fucked. Playing without a care in the world. Without the knowledge the world was a waiting misery. Patience was a virtue alright. It lead to wisdom. Which only came through experience. Which lead to running away from the demons it manifested.

As Louis kept up his inner shunning of all things good, he failed to notice he had just passed by the meeting spot. He was too busy battling himself, thought for thought in his hungover state. He'd even momentarily forgotten what he was here for. Until one of the lively kids kicked a ball that whistled past his face, just missing his left cheek.

Louis turned to see the leather clad plaything wizz by and watched as it bounced and rolled toward a man seated at a park bench. Oh. The meeting. He left alone the thought of slapping the fun out of whomever was responsible and made his way over.

John puffed more on the cigarette, but encroaching footfalls brought his head forward to meet the on comer. One quick glance over the man and he smirked, "Ya mus' be Del Rossi, aye?" He scooted off to the side of the bench, allowing plenty of room for the other man, and crossed his legs with both arms spread out over the back of the seat; his cigarette hand hung off the side.

"Please, take a seat. You'll find most of wot ya need in tuh envelope." John kept his eyes forward as the man sat and one of the nearby children ran over to collect the ball. "Sorry mister!" the kid yelled out for Louis and ran back to continue playing.

"So I 'ear ya can drive, lad. That be true enough? Wot be your favorite model?" John tugged the last of his cigarette down and tossed it aside, exhaling the smoke high above them in case Rossi didn't appreciate it. He leaned forward as he uncrossed his legs, placed his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on his hands. He remained quiet, offering Fats the time to go through the envelope if he wanted.

If opened Fats would see; an itinerary documenting the three businesses and exact times they would be hit in succession, where the car would need to be for each heist to go off without a hitch, the armaments that would be aboard for the job, the three people (including John) that would be riding along with him in the car, and the proposed cut of thirty percent of the overall haul. It also mentioned the car that would be used... the 1932 Daimler Double-Six. Black as night and sleek as they come. Thin room for windows meant more protection from the guns that were liable to come their way as well. Along with all of that information, bundled inside the envelope, there was a small stack of hundreds to sweeten the incentive. About fifteen hundred dollars if Louis counted it.

Louis nodded and gave a heavy sigh. His hands were dug deep into the pockets of his cream jacket. He removed his right to give a casual salute before shuffling over and onto the seat, but not before shooing away the apologetic little squirt. He appreciated his manners, which softened his grumbling.

Fats dropped all his weight into a slump and slid down a little. He sat halfway down the bench with his legs spread wide and his neck touching the top backing of the weathered park chair. His body ached from long hours behind the wheel, and his head thumped from an ever frustrating headache.

New York had been a trip and a half. A self dare made after the removal of Detroit's latest ruling families. A place he ventured out to, for work and to get closer to Henry's ladies. It all went to shit though. All up in a puff of what the hell. Not a week there and he was back in Chicago. And in a shitty depressive state he made a shitty decision. New York road trip.

Louis let the sun wash over him as he listened to John's questions. He had his eyes closed, melting away in the day's gift. Half sitting but more laying. Enjoying the break from his self loathing. It was the littlest things to Fats. But he was still present, and eventually opened his eyes and sat himself up more properly.

His jeans looked a year past a new pair. And his old brown boots, well, his favourite shit kickers would still be kicking on with him as long as his body allowed his soul to. They meant the world to him. They reminded him of a time things were more innocent. More fucked up than you could imagine, but innocent in the sense there was meaning for him. True meaning. Heart felt meaning. More than driving.

With his eyes open and his attention focused on the meeting, Louis grabbed the envelope and pulled out some papers. As he did, and as he eyed them over, he returned John's polite effort at a conversation. With his head down, he spoke in a still waking up tone.

"Some call me Fats. I do drive, you heard right. Some would say that's all I'm good for."

He sunk back into an incling of what it was that brought him out to New York, before noticing the car mentioned in the job material. His tune quickly changed. More life. More zest. More spirit. And with it he sat up straight and he spoke with a sense of urgency as he looked over at John. Properly looked at him. Unlike his initial greeting in which he was barely present.

"I usually like to drive Henry's ladies. Fords. But this. This will be a treat. Smooth, high-powered quietness."

Louis paused, nodding a few times as he affirmed his happiness at the choice of vehicle.

"Silent dignity." Louis continued with a smirk.

He then counted the money contained therein. He gave some more nods as he finished, then tucked away the job specifics under his left arm and returned his attention to John. He relaxed back into the corner of the bench and turned his body slightly towards the Englishman.

"Five minute windows at each point. That includes the time from the pickup to the delivery spot. If you're late, then I'm off. No questions asked. I also usually don't like names."

Louis kept a steady gaze on his potential job partner. He really didn't like people knowing who he was, other than a middleman. It made less of a mess if someone got caught down the track. But being they were both hot stepping through the seedy underbelly, this was unavoidable.

"But, your name preceeds you. You're spoken of highly. And I like to think I can trust those people. What do you think? Should I break a rule in light of the life we both work in?" Louis queried John half-heartedly.

He already asumed the answer, and just wanted to hear John's take on it. And if he declined, and the reason was just, the job would be off. Simple as that. Rules were rules for a reason, but could be bent if the right situations called for it.

John sat and nodded as Louis spoke, uncrossing his legs to lean forward The five minute windows were acceptable, though there should be no need for the window. Then again, somethings always changed slightly no matter how much you studied and practiced a scenario. He brushed the pant legs of his black suit from ash that had fallen from the cigarette. The pair certainly looked odd sitting there together; Fat's in his year old jeans and shoddy boots, John in his custom-tailored black suit/vest, white shirt, and red tie combination. He leaned back again, turning more into the conversation and placing his back against the corner of the bench.

"Well Mister Del Rossi. Seeing as we both already know eachot'er's names, I don' think there's any savin' that rule. Personally, I like knowin' me associates. Introduces a modicum of respect an' trust..." John rolled his shoulders and his neck before continuing. "I don' think  that drivin' be all you're good for. There always be more then one purpose for any man or woman." He grinned and nodded, trying to show respect to the Chicago man for even bothering to come out. "As for tuh car, she be a beaut. I can agree wit' 'Enry's girls bein' some of tuh best, but me car works quite nice." His lips curled into a smirk at Del Rossi's approval of the vehicle.

John offered his hand, "I do suppose we can be formal though, if ya want. Pleasure to finally meet tuh one an' only 'Fats' Del Rossi of tuh great windy cit'y of Chicago."

If the man took John's hand, then they would shake. If not, they wouldn't. C'est la vie. Regardless, it seemed as if the job was a go, and that was always a good thing...

Louis nodded in response, accepting and appreciating the answer to his question on names. He glanced around at the park as John spoke of being more than a wheelman. He saw a couple stroll past hand in hand. Then an arm reached around the lower back of the women from her dapper looking partner. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the spirit of the day.

But he couldn't help but think, as he glanced over at a women pushing a pram down a path further away, that this was all his life was worth. People seemed connected to one another in some way. Even two birds zipped by, one following the other closely as they left no trails through the sun drenched sky. Unison. Oneness. These things Louis could only contemplate in his selfish resentful world.

He did appreciate the notion though, and returned his gaze to meet John's as the New Yorker offered his hand in a polite gesture. As Fats shook it firmly, he nodded. His head still thumped, but the overall gleeful mood was wearing on him. And the character before him, the personality of one John Englishman. His accent was what stood out the most, though.

"It's a pleasure to meet you John. You hold yourself well. I'm not on my best behaviour, so you'll have to excuse my lack of warmth."

Louis didn't go into detail about his hangover. He was a little ashamed he was drinking again, and so heavily. But death took a toll, and the tollman needed something for the crossing. Louis' torn soul would have to do. He gave his best version of a 'I'm really happy even though I feel like shite' smile as he finished the handshake.

"You seem a good man. I look forward to this business we have together."

A salute of the casual kind followed. Louis felt rather alright. His spirits had changed. He didn't question it. He took a breath in then turned to make his leave when the same ball from earlier floated toward him, airborn. It hit him in nose as he partially caught it. Noticing the kids playing directly infront of him, he turned one eighty and booted the crap out of the leather ball, as hard a kick as he could muster. A shitty look appeared on his face as he turned back to John.

"Beautiful fuckin' day, no?"

And off he shuffled, with a slight limp, as he cursed the sun and its rays as he made his way through the park.

John chuckled as Louis commented on the day. The whole situation, while comical, was still slightly pathetic. The man grumpily kicking the kids ball as far as he could into the air, away from the children and walking off. John did all he could to not outright laugh at the whole situation, especially when the kids turned and yelled at Luis.

"How could you, mister! It was an accident!" The kids took off after the ball which was headed into the street by this point. John simply shook his head and stood and dusted himself off.

He looked to the sky and smiled, speaking out loud but more to himself than anything, "You're correct, Mister Del Rossi. A beaut'iful fuckin' day." John retrieved his cigarettes and matchbook again, striking flame. John heard the honks as the children from before ran out into the road for their ball. He shook his head and lit his cigarette then shook the match until it's flame went out. He tossed the used match aside, stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and made his way out of the park... Soon enough, the two would meet again, but it would be the full crew that time.

And it would be job time...