"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.

He checked his watch again. Angela had called. Twice. Probably wondering what in the hell had happened, since she was at Carter's party too when shit went down. Max sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest.

What was he gonna say to her? Where was he gonna bring Oz? The pad in Applerock was completely out of the question. Rufino would have Oz skinned alive if he found him, and he'd be looking. As would the pigs. Grand theft auto wasn't exactly a low profile crime. There'd be something in the news, online... Thankfully, it'd all happened so quickly that Max doubted there'd been any helicopter coverage, but still... He sighed again, this time even more frustrated. He knew he sounded like an irate kid doing it, but who the shit cared? He was alone in his car, and he was allowed to be upset.

When Oscar exited the building, he seemed to perfectly embody the antithesis to Max's turmoil. Shades on, leather jacket open, bag slung casually over his shoulder, strolling to the car like some alternative grunge model. He tossed his bag in the back seat but before he got more than one foot in, he surveyed the lot across the street and ducked down to look at Max.

"I guess I'll get my bike later?"

Max stared at him for a second, lips parted, brain blank. "Uhm... You know your license plate number on it?"

Oscar stepped back, took out his phone and snapped a picture.

"Do now."

"Great," Max said. "I'll send someone to get it for you. Get in."

Their next stop was for some food, and another ignored call from Angela. The next notification Max got, though, he immediately shoved the rest of his gyro into Oz's hand.

"Yeah?" Max said, having put the call on speaker.

"Where are you?" The voice was a man's. Mature and smooth. No one that Oscar recognized.

"I'm...grabbing something to eat with a friend." Silence... "I'm on my way home," Max added. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes."

"Make it sooner," was the man's only reply before the call was ended.

"Haah...shit," Max sighed, holding his hand out for Oz to hand him back his food. "We need to figure out who I'm gonna introduce you as. Like, immediately."

"What about the bodyguard cover? That worked pretty well at Carter's pad." Oscar suggested as he handed off the food and then took a sip of soda.

"Not gonna work."

"Why not?"

Max glanced at Oz, and it seemed like he took a little longer than necessary to chew. "We need something else. Something believable and something you can remember."

Oscar made a face. "What's not believable about me being your bodyguard? I might not be big, but I'd bet money I've been in more brawls than you have."

"Oz. My parents vet every single person who works in or around their house. From the guards, to the cooks, to the fucking mail carriers. You're my type, but you certainly aren't theirs. And on that note, they don't know anything about my sexual preference, and it needs to stay that way."

Oscar wasn't sure when, but he'd stopped focusing on his soda and started just chewing on the straw about halfway through Max's explanation. This was another one of those rare moments where he realized just how little he actually knew about Max and his family.

"Right so... um, who wouldn't they have vetted?"

"That's exactly what I've been trying to figure out, but then you had to pull that stunt with that damn ca-" Max's brows furrowed. "...How did you get into that Bugatti?"

"Oh! Actually, it was pretty easy." Oscar shifted and pulled a device out of his pocket. "It's a signal grabber. I just got one of my buddies to distract the valet while I clicked the key fob a few times and boom, new key. Then ya just stick this part into the port the mechanics use to program the car and bam! Car's all mine! Or well... it was."

Max had to process for a few minutes before he spoke again. "That's useful... Holy shit. That's really useful." Excitement rose in his voice. "Tech. A tech guy! We don't have a dedicated one, and what you just said—knowledge like that, that could actually be really useful!"

"Yeah? Yeah!" Oscar smiled, feeling pretty proud of Max's approval of his knowledge. His optimism was short-lived however, as Max drove them into the heart of Baypark.

The city fell away into rolling hills, each topped with lavish mansions and truly giant estates. When they slowed and pulled up to the gate that barred the way up one of the well-manicured drives, Oscar realized right away why he'd never pass as security detail. The men in sharp suits, with dark glasses, and earpieces, that exited the guard houses next to the gate looked more like secret service members than just your everyday bar bouncers for hire. These guys were—this whole place was—on another level.

After speaking with Max and eyeing him, they opened the gate and waved them through. Once they were on the other side of the wall, Oscar felt like they were driving up to some sort of luxury resort. Only, the tingle in his stomach was as much from excitement as it was nervousness. There was another set of men patrolling the front steps, and more over by the garage.

Holy shit.

He was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of a guy on his cell phone near a rooftop balcony too. The sheer amount of security almost distracted Oz from how beautiful the actual building, or rather, buildings were.

They looked like a mix of modern and Spanish influences, with sun-bleached stucco framed by orange and gray stonework, with clay tiling, and accented by iron fences and railing near the walkways and windows. Perfectly sculpted cypress trees and palms rose on the sides of the drive and walkways, and the entire place was illuminated by led path lighting below, and large lantern-shaped chandeliers hanging from the sides of the building above.

Oscar was pretty sure he caught sight of teal water and fountains dancing near the back before his view was cut short as they entered the massive ten-car garage.

Parking, Max killed the engine and breathed out as he looked at Oz. "When we're in there, call me Marcus. Kay?" he said as he pulled out his own pair of sunglasses. "And remember what I said. About us."

"Right, yeah." Oscar swallowed thickly, Max or Marcus rather, was almost making him start to regret ever wanting to see where he lived. But not quite, because he was still more excited than anything else. After all, it wasn't every day you got invited over by the mafia.

"Let's go." Immediately upon climbing out of his car and into the bright, show-room-esque lighting of the garage, Max did a double take. Pulling his shades down just enough to peer over them, he glared at the three bullet holes in the otherwise pristine body of his car. Then he stalked away, grumbling, while motioning for Oz to follow him. Max had bigger problems to worry about right now, and one of them found him as soon as they stepped into the house.

"Where have you been?" The woman in front of them could've easily been a model twenty years ago, and was still stunning even now. She was clearly where Max's darker skin had come from, and there were actresses who literally paid to have her kind of cheek and nose structure, and even late in the evening, when presumably not expecting any company, her hair and makeup looked salon-perfect; outfit something straight out of a classy, high-end boutique. "And why were you ignoring your sister?"

"I was busy," Max said, holding his hands out briefly in surrender. "I'd already told Da I was on my way home."

"Did you tell him you were bringing-" her almond eyes snapped to Oscar. "Who are you?"

Meeting the parents for the first time is always a little nerve-wracking...right? ^^;

Shout out to Bookworm4254 ! Thanks so much for your support!!