The smirk on Oscar's face turned into a wide grin, and then a snicker that burst past his best laid defense of indifference, and drew the attention of both the old geezers sitting across the patio. Oscar's smile quickly faded as he issued a curt middle finger and exited the patio.

It was ridiculous how excited a stupid text had made him. It had to be the booze or the weed from earlier—probably both, he assured himself, as he returned to his stool at the bar. He still wasn't sure what to make of all of it... Actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to make of it, but the pessimist in him tried to dash all those thoughts.

"He's just playing with you," he warned himself. "He texted the wrong number."

Right. That was a possibility; a very reasonable and likely one, but then why was his leg bouncing up and down like a bunny on crack? And why was time moving so goddamn slow all of a sudden?

Oscar's phone didn't ring until a quarter to seven.

"Hey, Oz, about last night, I apologize," Max said over the phone. It sounded like there was a lot of talking in the background, but certainly not the usual backdrop of rowdy, horny drunks, or booming trap music. "We're still cool, right?"

"You're asking me?" Oscar blurted out without really thinking. People could say whatever they wanted about the Devil's Rejects, but they didn't make people disappear.

Yeah, there was a shakedown here and there, but for the most part, they were all about intimidation. Their bark was worse than their bite. The same couldn't be said for Max's side.

"Yeah," Max said easily.

"I don't know, are we? And what the fuck was up with the heart thing?" Oscar asked as he paid the barkeep, and exited out onto the street where it was only slightly quieter.

"Of course we are!" Max replied. "Hang on a minute..." There was a muffled noise, like Max had either pressed his phone against his clothes or had at least put a thumb over the receiver for half a minute or so before he came back. "Hey, listen, just give me a place, okay? I'll meet you there."  

"Look, Max, I want to, but are you sure that's a good idea? I mean my people and your people...they don't really get along, ya know?" Oscar said as he glanced at the street name on the sign next to him.

Max let out a frustrated sigh. "Are we chillin' tonight or not?" he said into the phone quickly, as if he was talking under his breath. "Cuz I need to get off the phone."

"Well, I mean, of course we're going to hang, I was just asking if it was a good idea," Oscar replied as he continued down the sidewalk. "I'll text you the address."

"Perfect. See you there."

After they'd hung up, Oscar had texted Max the address of a Japanese restaurant on the border between Commerce City and Golden Heights.

Commerce City was the industrial side of Kingsport, and it stretched from the docks to the airport on the west edge of town. It was teeming with warehouses, train tracks, and crime, but it was also where Oscar called home.

While Golden Heights was a few blocks north of the docks, nestled on the west side of downtown and separated by the I-155 from Glasspoint. It was the business district of Kingsport, with the tallest buildings, and Oscar figured that since this restaurant was there, and boasted authentic Japanese dishes, like calamari and real sushi, that it would fit someone like Max better than taking him to the old Five-N-Dine near his place.

What Oscar hadn't thought about was how he would look walking into a halfway respectable establishment without a reservation.

"That's alright, we have a few open tables tonight. Follow me, right this way," said the hostess as she made her best effort not to stare at Oscar for too long—a feat that some of the customers weren't able to achieve. At least she gave him a booth, which afforded him more privacy than being sat out in the middle of the room at a table.

Oscar slid into it and had just started to relax when the waiter arrived at his table.

"I'm waiting for someone—can I just get a Jack and Coke?" Oscar asked, but the waiter's confused expression told him about all he needed to know. "Right, scratch that. Coffee is fine."

"We have tea?" the waiter offered meekly.

"Fine, yeah. Great."

After about fifteen agonizingly long minutes of sitting with his cup of tea, the same hostess that had brought Oscar to his booth showed back up.

"Is this him?" she asked, motioning subtly towards Oscar, and she couldn't possibly look more uncertain.

"Yep, that's him," Max said, once he'd stepped into view and gotten a better look at the creature in the booth. "Thank you."

The mafia prince looked like some kind of cover model off of fucking Vogue or GQ; with his reddish brown hair slicked back, to show off his devilishly handsome face, and his athletic form wrapped in a deep burgundy suit that seemed tailor-made to look perfect on his body...which led the eye to the bombshell attached to his arm...

She was at least a foot and a half shorter than Max, and dressed just as sharply. She also looked a little baffled by Oscar's appearance, but unlike the hostess, she was quick to recover with a dazzling smile.

"You weren't waiting long, were you?" Max asked, as he wordlessly invited the girl to sit first before he began to remove his jacket.

"Yeah, but like I said, I wasn't doing anything anyway... Looks like you can't say the same," Oscar said, eyeing the girl. It wasn't like Max to bring a girl with him. Normally, they just congregated once they got somewhere. This was...new?

"Well," Max huffed before draping his jacket around his sister's shoulders and sitting down. Before he could even say anything else, however, the server was already back at their table—far faster than she'd been when Oscar had been seated, that was for sure.

"Can I get you something to drink, sir?"

While Max was distracted, the girl chuckled, leaning forward to hold out her hand in front of Oscar. "Elise Gallagher."

Well, one mystery solved... Only ninety nine more to go. "Oscar Bradley—is everyone in your family needlessly hot?" he cut himself off with the question as he turned his attention towards Max. 

When Max laughed, the warmth in his expression was to die for, but then a tinge of color spread across his cheeks, making him look ten times as sexy as his warm amber eyes met Oscar's. "Please don't call my little sister hot."

Elise whapped Max's arm with her shimmery hand bag, but her jaw dropped immediately once she did, and Max simultaneously cringed at her mouthing, 'What the fuck?'.

"I'm so sorry!" she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand to contain her laughter. "I forgot my piece was in there," she whispered, though it was hard to tell if she was explaining so that Oscar could be in the know, or if it was because she was embarrassed.

"Anyway," Max said, "You're free to call me hot, though, and in my humble opinion, Elise and I are the most attractive out of the immediate clan."

"And-um-f-for you, Miss?" the waitress stuttered, still standing there like an awkward little statue with pen to paper.

"Oh, um...some tea is fine," Elise said, then the waitress took off.

"Right, so, I figured you and I can drop Elise off after we get outta here. Traffic's a beast right now, otherwise I would've taken her home first," Max said. "That cool?"     

"He was eager to get here," Elise chimed, without looking up from her menu.

Max rested his elbow on the table. "I like being punctual."

"Right," said Oscar, though it wasn't completely clear to whom or which part of what conversation he was referring to, and from his tone, Oscar didn't seem to care much. Instead, he was watching the expression on the waiter's face. Max and his little sister were making them, and the entire wait staff visibly flustered, and he doubted it was just because they were good looking. Oscar might have been nervous too, if he hadn't had a gut full of Jack.

They were only about five minutes into their calamari and neatly plated sushi rolls when Max set down his chopsticks and waited for Oscar to look at him. The moment their eyes met, Max spoke. "Are you into Japanese food?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Oscar said with a shrug. "I don't come here much. Not my style, ya know?"

What was Oscar's style was a Cup-o-ramen with a few generous squirts of Sriracha sauce, and a large can of sweet tea, and a bag of potato skins from the dollar store, but he decided to keep those details of his eating habits to himself, while he used his chopstick to skewer a piece of squid to get it to his mouth. Whoever said chopsticks were tricky were idiots.

"Wanna try the real thing? I won't drag you there tonight. The flight is a little over seven hours, which is a long-ass time to be sitting, but it's a cool place." Max was trying to keep the smile on his lips tamed into a laid back, neutral look, but it was hard to contain his excitement since he could do shit like that with Oscar, now that he knew.

The piece of food that was on its way to Oscar's mouth paused as he stared pointedly at Max as if he was trying to decide if he were being serious or not. Then his brows lowered into a glare. "Fuck off."

Max let out an astonished laugh. "What?"

"You heard me," Oscar said as he stood up. He wasn't stupid. He knew when he was being flexed on, and he also knew where the door was.

"Oz-" Max immediately got up to follow him but paused to look at his sister.

She motioned for him to go. "I'll get this."

Max waited until he and Oscar were both out on the street before talking again. "Oz, wait! Seriously, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is I don't want to go seven hours to anywhere! I don't want to hang out with some rich prick. I just want my friend back. Not whoever the fuck this is," he said, motioning to Max.

Oscar might as well have punched Max square in the gut because that was exactly how it felt, and he didn't quite know how to process it. Max was angry, embarrassed, and felt pretty guilty...which was the worst part. "Right... Look, I didn't mean it like that. We don't have to go anywhere."

"No Max, there's no we."

Elise stepped out of the restaurant, and even though she clearly spotted them, she didn't come over. Instead, she pulled Max's coat a little tighter around herself and stood waiting as if for a cab, minding her own business.

Max looked at her, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Let me make it up to you. When are you free next? It'll just be me. No fancy restaurants, no gala clothes," he said, plucking at his black tie. "We can just chill, like usual."

Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not—That doesn't solve anything," he grumbled, but it did sound tempting. Tempting in the way that a scam sounds tempting, but you know it's too good to be true.

"It will, though." There was hope in Max's tone. "Tonight was just fucked. I mean, I fucked it..." He'd been a little too eager. He needed to slow it down. "How about some blunts and booze on the beach? Whenever you're up to hang out next."

Oscar gave Max a hard squint and folded his arms... Truth was, Max was putting in more effort now than all the other friends he'd ever had combined. He seemed to genuinely want to fix things and deep down, so did Oscar. His tongue prodded the inside of his cheek as he thought hard about what he said next.

"Well, I mean...what, you got some sort of a bedtime? Let's just go now," Oscar said, playing it off with a shrug.

Maybe Oz's bark might be worse than his bite, but was he out of line or was Max at fault? >>

If you were Oz, would you agree to go hang out still?