Max didn't recognize the number that had called while he was on the phone with Rufino, which reminded him that he also hadn't checked the missed call he'd had while throwing his fit in the waffle house. He'd been so focused on everything else. All he'd cared about was that it hadn't been Oz or his sister.

Checking now, revealed that both calls had been from the same number... His gut twisted, and the smell of the coffee in front of him wasn't helping. What if it was from a homicide detective? A coroner? He wasn't ready to hear any bad news, but called the number back anyway...

"Hello, Mrs. Russell's office," a distinctly feminine voice answered.

Max's disappointment was immediate, and he glared at the cup of coffee in front of him. "Hi. I received two calls from this number within the last hour and a half or so," he said, glancing at his watch. "Maybe two..." It was clear by the way he trailed off that he expected an explanation.

"Oh! Mr. Bradley was trying to get a hold of you, he's been taken to the trauma center at St. Peter's hospital."

Oscar was alive?! Of course he was fucking alive!

Oscar was alive!!

Max shoved and scrambled to get out of the cramped little booth so quickly that he nearly knocked Rory on his ass.

"Marcus?! What the hell?"

James was looking at Max like he'd sprouted a second head.

"I just-I need to take this!" Max sputtered. "I'll be right back," he added before holding the phone to his ear again. "You said St. Peter's? When? How was he?"

"He was conscious but... he'd lost a lot of blood," Mrs. Russell explained, trying her best to sound hopeful while still being realistic about Oscar's condition.

"Right... Okay. Thanks," without a second thought, Max hung up and Googled the number for St. Peters. "Jesus Christ, Oz..." he muttered to himself.

Every second that it rang felt like a fucking eternity, but after a very tense few minutes pacing in the restaurant's vestibule—no sign of Dina yet—and being transferred a couple of times, Max was finally told by a nurse that they were putting Oscar on the phone. Max didn't know if he should be ecstatic or terrified of the fact that Oz was currently awake.

"...Oz?"

"Heeey, Max!" Oscar's tired tone and slight slur made two things very clear, one he was alive and two he was probably medicated to another plan of existence. "Max-Max-Max, I told em you'd call! Hold on-" there was a slight rustling before a muffled "Y'all are fucked now!" was declared.

"Mr. Bradley, lay down!" a nurse snapped.

Oscar brought the phone back up. "I told em I was good to go, but no one in this fuck'n place listens..."

"I'll have someone pick you up, and you can recover and rest at home, okay?" Max said sniffling, before adding, "I promise." His face turned red as his voice cracked. "Sorry I missed your calls earlier..." Another sniffle. Still no Rufino yet, and a quick look back into the cafe over his shoulder confirmed that his dad and the guys were still at the booth. Just to be safe, he turned his back towards them and wiped away a few tears before cupping the receiver. "I love you..."

"That's really, really great, Max. I'd like the pink lemonade, please."

"Sure, Oz... I'll see you soon."

Walking back in from the vestibule, Max checked his phone one more time before tucking it back in his pocket. He didn't make it all the way back to their booth though, before Rory met him part way.

"Let's go," the Irishman said, pointing towards the door in response to Max's look of complete confusion.

"I'm sorry, what? Going where?"

"Home," Rory replied. "Yer Da said I'm to take you home. He's pulling you off this one."

"Pulling me off?!"

No.

No, he wouldn't right now. He hadn't done something like that to Max since he was a kid! Granted, at eighteen, he'd been way too hot headed for the situation, and he'd deserved to be sat out, but this—this was horseshit.

"Da," Max called, pushing past Rory, and making it back to the booth.

"Do ya have a hearing problem, Marcus?" Jame said, icy blue eyes staring up at Max.

"No, but-"

"Did Rory not tell ya what I said then?"

Max's jaw tightened. "He did, but I-"

"Yer a liability ta me right now, as ya are." James wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead, he was just staring ahead, while Darren pretended to continue pouring over the cafe's one-page menu.

When Max climbed into the back seat of the car he and Rory were taking back he slammed the door closed hard enough to make Rory cuss about it, but Max didn't care.

He was so fucking humiliated. So fucking pissed that his hands were shaking.

"Can we stop anywhere on the way back?"

Rory gave him a leery look through the rear-view. "No."

"I just wanna pick up Oscar. He's at the hospital."

"I thought they'd smoked him."

"No." Max growled. "I just wanna pick him up. That's it. I won't ask anything else."

Rory drew in a long breath before sighing it out. "If you try to pull anythin', and I get heat-"

"I gave you my fucking word already, Rory. Christ!"

Max heard the clicking of the blinker.

"...KPH?"

"St. Peters."

"Do. Not. Make me regret this favor."

Max met his eyes in the thin rectangular mirror. "What favor?"

Oscar couldn't recall much of his stay at the hospital, or the ride home. From what Max had told him, he was pretty drugged up, and apparently it had taken a small pharmacy to keep him that way. In contrast, the meds that they'd sent him home with weren't nearly as potent, and he definitely felt the pain setting in the following morning.

Still, he was pretty lucky. He could get his stitches out next week, and until then he got to just lounge around the mansion, and what was even better was that Max was stuck there with him—or it would have made it better...if the mafia prince hadn't been in such a sour mood. Max wouldn't even talk to him about what all went down with Pasta Boy and company.

Clearly, they'd gotten Elise back, because she was home, and when he'd asked her what was going on with Max, she told him that her brother just needed time to deal with some things, and Oscar lied and said he understood, and that's how things had gone. It was weird how life just resumed as normal even if the most important people to you almost just died, or thugs shot up your party... Things just always went back to normal the next day in the Gallagher household.

For Max, things were light-years from normal. He'd never in his adult life been shut out from the family business, kept out of meetings... He wasn't even allowed to leave the house, much less show up at the office. It was making it impossible for him to settle. Whenever he'd cool off from being mad at his dad, he'd think of what Rufino and his stupid, smug buddies must have thought when they'd showed up to the cafe and he wasn't even there...and that just got him fuming all over again.

So when he got a text from his dad, telling him to meet him in his office at home, Max was more than a little eager to get there. Surely, whatever his dad had felt he'd fucked up, he'd been punished and humiliated long enough for it.

"Come in," James called when Max had knocked. It felt strange stepping into the woody pipe tobacco-scented space in casual clothing. Max felt under dressed.

"Am I allowed to come back to work?" Max asked, his tone light, but hopeful.

"Actually, I'm sending your mother and sisters on vacation. Out of the country."

Max straightened his posture a little. "Okay." Great. Not that that was great. His father sending them away at a time like this could only mean that things in Kingsport were about to get a lot worse for a bit. A lot more dangerous. It was great in that he was going to get to come back to work.

"You're going with them."

Or not.

Max chuffed out a short laugh only to keep himself from saying the first thing that caught on his tongue. "I... I don't understand."

"Yer head hasn't been in the right space for this lately. Missing things... Getting sloppy... And now there's quite a mess ta clean up because of it. I think yer due for a vacation."

"I want to be here in Kingsport, Da... Helping you."

"You want ta help?" James leaned forward on his desk, pointing his pipe at Max. "You'll go an look after yer mother an sisters. Make sure they have a good time and that nobody bothers them. Unless I can't trust you ta manage that either."

Max's shoulders sank. "You can trust me, Da."

"Then do as yer told."

"What about Oz?" Max asked under his breath.

"What?"

"What about Oscar?"

"Elise can bring him. I figured she'd want ta."

Max didn't say anything else, and when his dad seemed to have nothing else to say either, Max left his office to go find Oz. But when he got to the punk's room, Oscar wasn't in bed resting...which was where he was supposed to be. And, for some reason, the longer he had to look for Oscar, the more it upset him.

Finally, after searching the entire downstairs, and the back patio, Max headed back upstairs, and for some reason it hadn't occurred to him to check one particular room until he'd reached the top of the steps...

Maybe his dad had a point.

He bee-lined for Elise's room, and opened the door without even pausing to consider knocking first.

The moment the door opened, the light laughter that filled the room just moments before was cut short as Elise and Oscar froze, and Max tried to wrap his head around what he was looking at.

Elise was laying belly down on the bed and Oscar was beside her on the floor. Both were wearing matching skull hair clips to keep their bangs out of their faces, and it looked like Elise was a few fingers in on painting Oscar's nails a shimmery black. A tray of snacks sat on the bed next to Elise, and Oscar made a quick click with the remote to pause whatever show was on the TV.

"Hey, Max what's up?"

"What in the shit are you doing?" Max asked, dumbfounded. He couldn't even manage to sound annoyed.

"It's manny-petty night," Oscar said, holding up his half finished hand.

"Manny-petty and Bro Island night," Elise corrected.

"Oh yeah, Bro Island too," the punk amended. "It's the Bro-nale tonight!"

Max crossed his arms in front of his chest, but was clearly putting in his best effort to maintain an aloof expression despite the absurdity. "The what?"

"Season finale of Bro-Island?" Elise said, lightly kicking her feet in the air as she started on another of Oscar's nails. "Seriously, Marc, when's the last time you watched TV?"

"You need to watch! They put a bunch of bros on an island for thirty days and they form Bro-lliances, to see who's the Alpha Bro!" Oscar explained excitedly.

Oscar's enthusiasm for the stupid show cracked Max's resolve, and a smirk slipped onto his face. "Yeah, well...I guess it's a good thing that your Bro-nale is tonight, then, 'cause we're leaving next week."

Well! Was anyone surprised by the turn of events? Was Max's dad was right to pull him? >>

If you could spend an evening binge watching any reality TV show with Oscar, which one would it be?  

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