Oscar has never tried to fit in and has never wanted to, but when his party friend, Max, is revealed to be mafia prince, Marcus Gallagher, suddenly being a 'lone wolf' is no longer an option; not if Oscar wants to woo his prince and get out alive!
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"Look, you didn't have to get involved. This was my business. You could have just said I was acting alone," which was actually pretty close to the truth, Oscar had never intended to drag Max into this, but when opportunity knocks, people at the bottom of society couldn't afford to pass.
"Oz, Carter knows you. He knows you're in the biker gang." Max argued, shifting his car into park. "We're passed the point of me being able to try to play ignorant. And as soon as Rufino brings this shit back to his uncle, they're gonna think me and mine are overstepping." The thought of his own father being told about any of this made his stomach turn.
"Heh. Yeah, well, I'm not going to be in the gang for much longer if I don't get my hands on one of those cars..."
"Why?" Max balked. "Is this a money thing?! I can get you the fucking money, Oz, that's not a problem. Just tell me what you need."
"But that's the thing, right? That's why I am where I'm at, because Daryl just paid my way and that's what Vic expects, me just get someone else to pay my way again. No, not this time, I have to do this."
Max exhaled a growl as he leaned his head back and slid his hand down his face, eventually cupping it over his mouth. He sat like that for a moment, practically looking like he was reading a novel on the ceiling of the car as he tried to think. Finally, he dropped his hand, sighing again as he shifted back into drive. "Do you have time to lay low for a day or two?"
"Yeah, I don't know, maybe? Why?"
"I'm gonna have to make some calls," Max said, chewing on his short nails as he navigated them back towards a main road. "I just wanna know you'll be safe, and if your apartment isn't gonna cut it, I'd rather know now, and make arrangements to have you with me." He glanced at Oz, then reached over and popped open the glove compartment. "Take your piece, by the way...meant to give that back when we got to the party."
Of course, the first image to come to Oscar's mind was that of his apartment being trashed by Daryl and though he was no longer in the picture that didn't change the underlying issue.
"Yeah well... my place probably has the security level of a cardboard cereal box..." He couldn't deny that the idea of staying with Max was tempting, in the same way that a bug zapper was tempting to a moth, and just like the moth Oscar couldn't resist.
Max cast a concerned glance his way, before replying. "We'll stop by your place so you can grab some of your stuff, then."
While Max was glad that Oscar didn't seem to have any issues with it, after almost fifteen minutes of waiting outside Oz's dingy apartment complex, Max was starting to regret his own decision.
Oz didn't need any of that stuff, right? He could just buy him new clothes, shoes, toothbrush, pillows, whatever he needed. If he thought Oz would let him get away with it, Max would never have his punk set foot in that building again. It looked one cigarette accident away from being the worst fire hazard in the city's history, and staring at the duct tape and cardboard patchwork over a window on the building's first floor, and the people that occasionally shuffled by on the narrow sidewalk, was just fucking depressing.
