Oscar could hear his heart in his ears. His pulse was racing like it hadn't in a long time. Spending your life stealing cars and living in a motorcycle gang, it takes a lot to get you going, but being in the back of a mafia car had undoubtedly done the trick.

So... Oscar wasn't the only one with secrets.

He watched the black tinted windows as the car drove off, with Max inside, leaving him halfway between his apartment and the Bored Dog bar. At that moment, Oscar felt a sudden and inexplicable loneliness settle in him.

It figured he thought to himself. He'd not met anyone he felt that comfortable around in a long time, and Max had quickly become what he considered his best friend. They didn't even have to do anything. Oscar would drive them out of town some nights, and they'd just drink and talk for hours. Admittedly, maybe he'd let his guard down around Max too quickly; he'd considered him a friend before really knowing him, and yeah, that was his fault.

"Fucking Mafia...pft, how did I not see that?" Oscar murmured to himself as he reached his apartment building. The halls always seemed to look slightly green under the old lighting, and the hallways were a minefield of strange smells and sounds coming from each apartment. The elevator was broken again--it had been for about a week--and it would probably stay that way for another few weeks before being fixed for a few days and then breaking again.

Oscar's door was at the end of the third floor, so it was not a nasty climb, but high enough that he wasn't paying for the convenience of a first or second-floor unit. The door opened into a tiny kitchenette with two doors across from the counter and sink. One led to the bathroom(a closet with a tub and toilet), and the other was a pantry/coat closet. Past the entry was the main room, which had an old TV, a bed with no bedframe, and a cheap dresser. His favorite part was his window, which had a shit view, but at least it could open and let in a breeze when the AC broke.

Oscar checked his phone one last time before letting himself free fall into his bed. His weight toppled a stuffed frog to the floor as he left his phone on the window seal. No missed messages. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. Max to call him? Not likely; the Mafia and the Devil's Rejects tolerated each other at best, but they were only friendly enough to keep the peace along their respective borders. If he and Max had just never found out who they were associated with, maybe they could have stayed friends... but not now.

After they'd crossed into the residential side of Commerce City, Petie turned on the radio—smooth jazz—and for some reason, that was when Duncan decided he had something to talk about.

"The Rejects are getting ballsy...liftin' SUVs from downtown and taking them for joyrides."

"They're allowed to be over here," Max said, his frown deepening as he squished the little stuffed turtle sitting in his lap... His stomach hurt.

"You know how your pops feels about petty criminals in our territory."

Max rolled his eyes. Yeah. He knew. It made things messy. It drew cops. "We own the police station."

"And pigs aren't cheap, Marcus," Petie cut in. "And they're squealers when they're put under too much heat. Why do ya think they're called pigs in the first place, eh?"

The back of Max's head hit the back of the seat as he stared at the roof of the car. They were just starting to get a little closer. Oscar had finally started paying more attention to him than to the chicks that hung all over him, and Max really wanted that to mean the potential was there. No, this definitely wasn't over between them. He wasn't gonna give Oscar up that easily...

Great. Before Max had even reached the dining room he could hear his mother. Said she-devil was at the table already, seated at the far end from his father, and Marcus took his seat across from his sisters.

"Marcus, there you are," Gloria said, smiling brightly at her son with teeth too white to be naturally that way. "What do you have picked out? You haven't told me yet."

"Picked out?"

Gloria's expression fell. "Oh, really, Marcus, could you stop playing stupid?" she said, spearing a fluffy piece of egg. "For the charity gala this evening. Your sisters are wearing rose gold. I was thinking you might want to wear something complimenting your father?"

Max's gaze flitted across the long dining table to his dad, who sat with his nose pointed down at his phone. "Who are we giving money to this time?"

"Kingsport PD-" James said without looking up.

"And the Fire and Rescue," Elise added–his younger sister.

Angela, the oldest of the three of them, though barely, grinned. "I do like firefighters..."

"Well, you'll be too preoccupied to be speaking with any of them," Gloria stated. "Mitchell Berti and Sicuro Cappella will be there. Oh, and Rufino Dina."

As his sisters replied, it all just sounded like word vomit to Max. He'd already heard what he needed to know. Big event. Important they be there because the Italians were gonna be there. And if the Cappellas and the Bertis and the blah, blah, blahs, were gonna be there, then the Gallaghers and the other Irish had to show their rivals just how deep they had their fingers in the government funded services of Kingsport. Petie was right about them being expensive.

And all the while, they would eat, and sip wine, and dance, and laugh, and act like they were all having a great time together.

High society at it's fucking finest.

But that's what it was to be rich. Not to say that all of the wealthy were criminals, but most of the best criminals were always wealthy.

"Marcus?"

"Hm?" Max looked up from the pristine white table cloth. His mom and sisters were looking at him expectantly.

"He wasn't paying attention," Angela said dismissively, rolling her eyes.

"Your sister wants you to bring her," Gloria filled in, and the subtle squint to her eyes told him that he didn't really have a choice.

When Max looked at Elise, she was smiling innocently back at him. "You don't mind, do you, Markie?"

Ugh. Now he was going to have to show up to the event at the very least.

"Of course not," Max said, despite his mind already scheming as to how he could shorten his night and get to wherever the hell Oscar would be slumming it at. He pulled out his phone. Nothing. Oscar hadn't even texted. Max wouldn't hold it against him though. Last night was probably a bit of a shock for his friend. "What time are we leaving?"

"Be there by six. No later," his dad said from the end of the table, actually making eye contact with Max this time at least.

"And no earlier, either," Gloria added with a coy grin that caused James to raise a brow. "No need to feign eagerness," she clarified.

At five twenty, Max pulled up to the front drive of the house, and sent out two texts. The first, to his sister, the second, to Oscar.

[05:21] Max: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

Max took a breath as he waited, staring intently at the chat on his phone. He was hoping to see if it would indicate Oscar typing or something, but was startled out of his concentration when someone opened the passenger door for Elise.

"Sorry. I left my bag upstairs," she said as she climbed in, immediately tugging at the end of her short, form fitting dress. "I forgot how low this car sits," she mentioned, face flushing slightly.

"You haven't even been in this one before," Max said as he started the engine.

"I have once...for a few selfies."

Max grinned and shook his head, locking his phone and holding out toward her. "Hold this for me and let me know if I get a message or anything."

"Sure," she said, moving the end of her high ponytail in front of her shoulder. Elise had a very Ariana Grande look about her, only unlike the Italian entertainer, Max and his siblings actually were mixed. Irish-Indian descent, though their mom rarely talked about her side of the family, and didn't even go by her birth name.

"You didn't have a date, did you?" Elise asked, holding up the phone for emphasis.

"Not to the gala, no."

Elise's sweet smile widened a bit. "...But for the rest of the night?"

Max turned his head to look at her. "Maybe."

Oscar's cheek was one with the sticky surface of the polished cherry wood bar top, watching the Flat screen across the room through the bubbling amber liquid of his drink as it promised that the six o'clock news would be next. The bartender circled by again to ensure Oscar was still awake and breathing. He'd not drunk himself into oblivion yet but was working in that direction.

"Hey, you doing alright?" the bartender finally asked, and for a moment, Oscar peeled his face from the heavily lacquered surface to answer, only to have his reply cut off by some girl who took the stool next to him. His mouth snapped shut, and in an embarrassed panic, he left his stool only to have to return a second later for his drink before he could retreat outside onto the covered patio.

Two old men were chatting on the opposite end of the porch, and Oscar took the table furthest away from them, all for himself, as he pulled out a cigarette. He had a few puffs before his phone rattled, and he pulled it out of his pocket. When Max's name came across the screen, his expression didn't change outwardly, but inwardly, Oscar felt his entire stomach tense. He knew he wasn't going to ignore it. But what was he going to say? Pretend nothing had happened--was that how they were going to try and play this?

[05:24] Oz: Nothing, you?

"Oh! Your phone dinged!" Elise said, placing it into Max's hand as soon as he reached for it.

Max smirked before setting his eyes back on the road. "Text him back for me, will ya?"

Elise took the phone into her dainty hands. "What do you want me to say?"

[05:27] Max: Driving. I'll call in about an hour

[05:27] Max: <3

"I put a heart, too."

"You didn't," Max said, face paling slightly.

"Mark!" Elise squeaked, and Max swerved into the right lane to avoid sideswiping some douchebag trying to get around them. "Pay attention!" she scolded breathlessly despite also laughing. "Shit... whew. But yes, I did. I hope your friend isn't a homophobe~!"

So! If you were Max, on a scale of 1 to never touching your phone again, where would Max's sister fall? xD

I think she's at a 2 for me personally, because the auto-predict/correct on my phone has done me waaay dirtier, but Nick said, "Oh she's never aloud to even look in the direction of my phone again." Lol!