Joe sat in his office, a bottle of liquor in one hand and a full glass in the other. He was half through his somber night cap when a light outside flashed his attention towards the window. A set of headlights near the back of the Midas Airfield plot of land.

Del Rossi stood before the spot, aiming his shovel. He still couldn't believe it had happened. As his shadow from the Yellow tax headlights cast itself forward, he forced the digging tool into the dirt then stomped his boot into it.

Joe slumped forward in his seat. The bottle rolled out of his hand and onto the floor. The contents of the glass swished about as he attempted to steady himself against the edge of the desk with his forearm.

Del Rossi was now stabbing at the dirt. His emotions were running higher than he thought they would be given the task. He wasn't one for them. He didn't have a use for them. But for some reason he was extra enthusiastic to beat the shovel into the ground and rip up the soil beneath.

Both had their reasons. Both needed a release. And it all came back to the night they first crossed paths...

Fresh out of prison, you'd think I'd be a little happier than this. The sunlight definitely made me smile. Maybe I was standing here too long. Fuck it, I don't care. I've spent three years and some change behind the walls of this shit hole. People can judge me. I've earned the right to not give a fuck.

Why am I even here? I never get proper work here. People seem to want to either truly take a new lease on life, or not give in to the temptation to be pulled back in by the other leash on life for a little while after. Both don't do well for my business. I drive. I do it fucking well. This is a waste of my time.

Now that is what freedom is about. The moment where the sun is a gift. How did I not enjoy this before? Ah. Heaven. The fuck is that?

A car horn blares in the distance. One long sound of irritation. Followed by little pumps of fuck you listen to me.

The fuck is this guy doing, seriously. Oh wait. Noooo. Is that right?

No. He ain't fucking her now, is he? The fuck is wrong with this guy.

A car parked outside the jail house has a little more action than one should. The makings of a women riding a man in the driver's seat is what both Louis Del Rossi and Joe Adonis are noticing.

Joe has a black leather bag in his hand and is standing just outside the elated walkway which is behind the steel and dream shattering or making main gate. He was enjoying the afternoon sun before the horn of a Ford A Rumble Seat started playing its tune.

Louis had been parked in the prison car-park for a little over an hour. A hot tip to pick up some not so straight individuals from another Yellow taxi driver. The types who may pay Louis what he felt he was worth and may even really put his skills to the test. He doubted it, but he hoped.

Both, were now in the frame of mind to deal with this noise pollution.

Fuck this guy.

Fuck that prick.

Joe was already halfway to the car when Louis had opened his taxi door. Joe made a mental note regarding the car he was driving, yet was more curious to see what his intentions were. Besides the two getting their rocks off, they were the only other ones here showing any life. There were a steady scattering of cars in car parks, but none waiting for anybody. Likely staff vehicles.

Del Rossi slammed the door shut. Not because he was annoyed, although his current level of irritated was what some might call angry. He was calm, cool and collected. The door was forced into its place because it was a needed to be. The dents and other job like mishaps had it in need of loving care. But a solid 'shut the fuck up' with a heavy hand did the same job.

As the two walked, practically side by side minus the three or so car spaces between them, they tried not to look at the other. It was, in both of their experiences, an odd encounter. They seemed to both be heading in the same direction, yet didn't want to acknowledge the other.

Del Rossi gripped onto his suspenders as he walked. His grey cap was slightly down over his face, blocking out the glare of the sun, which allowed him to see the up and down movements of the women in the front seat quite clearly.

Joe slipped his free hand into his pocket as his black leather bag swung casually in his opposite hand and at his side. His tucked in button down white shirt, opened at the top, showed how relaxed he was. It was what he intended to wear to a date before he was pinched.

As they edged closer, the energy between them was hard to resist. But being the stubborn personalities they were, they pretended they didn't notice one another. Until, they both arrived at the black Ford.

Louis and Joe, Del Rossi and Adonis, were on either side of the car and at the back end of it. Still, the women inside the car seemed adamant to let her lover know how much she'd missed him. Her moans were somewhat audible to them both now. Or maybe it was the squeaking of the suspension. It was hard to tell, and they were now both looking directly at one another, so their focus wasn't so much on the car, but on who the fuck was standing over the other side of the car.

It was peculiar for both. Louis didn't budge in his eye contact, asking himself who the fuck would wear half a tuxedo to jail. And Joe, asking himself why would a man dress like a paperboy and be parked in a jail parking lot. But both, in some way or another, saw some likeness in the other. Not in what could be quantified by first evaluation, but something more.

As the oddly calm staring contest persisted, so did the fuck fest in the Ford. It seemed to get more intense, as their silence and glaring curiosity continued. Joe was waiting for the stranger to say something. The stranger, not one to talk, was waiting for Joe to speak his peace. And so, they waited, as the sounds of two lovers being quite satisfied with each other continued to spill out of the vehicle.

Initially, both had the same intention. To drag the guy out of the car and beat the snot out of him. His women, eh. She'd either scream her disapproval as he was copping a beating, as some kind of background noise. Or she'd end up with the one doing the beating, on the way to a victory lap. Some kind of full frontal joys.

But, neither happened.

"You drive?"

It didn't take long. A nod was returned from Del Rossi. He sensed this guy was on his level. Didn't fuck about. Straight to the point. Hell, he was likely going to end the horn session himself.

Nothing more was necessary. They both turned and headed towards the Yellow taxi. Once inside, Del Rossi in the driver seat and Adonis in the back, and with the horn still honking away rhythmically in the background, Joe spoke first. In fact, he'd only ever be the one to speak between the two. Del Rossi wouldn't utter a word to his future employer. Not one. He could talk. He just preferred not to. And as their relationship unfolded, there really wasn't any need.

"Joe Adonis. Let's get the fuck out of here before I end up back in jail."