Max turned in his leather upholstered desk chair when he heard the creak of his office door opening. Elise poked her head in and waved, but Max gave her a discouraging look. She didn't appear hurt or panicked, and nothing seemed to be on fire, so whatever she did want or need, now wasn't a good time.

He had his phone pressed against his ear, and the dumbass on the other line was threatening to give him a considerable headache.

"No, no, no, no," Max cut in, turning his chair away from the door again. "Luke, listen to me. Listen to me. My problem is that you're talking to me like I'm some ignorant teenager. That's not a mistake I'll keep forgiving. You agreed to the work. Arturo and James agreed on a price. And you're gonna honor that agreement."

The man on the other line raised his voice again, and Max had to hold the receiver further away from his ear.

Elise hadn't left like he'd wanted her to. In fact, she'd done the exact opposite, her kitten heels lightly clicking across the floor as she ventured father in, purposefully crossing into his line of view, as if to be extra sure he knew she was there, and wanted his attention.

Max exhaled heavily through his nose, jaw clenching, as he tuned back into whatever bullshit Luke was spewing now. By the look on Elise's face, she'd caught at least part of his nasty comment about their "potato peeling mother and father".

That didn't sit well.

"My mom's from West Bengal, you stupid fuck," Max snapped back. "...Yeah, well, I hope you've hugged yours recently, because if that shipment isn't delivered by the end of the week, I'll be paying her and that little parakeet a visit over in Glasspoint."

When Elise didn't seem deterred by the intensity of the stare Max was giving her, he glanced back down at the open planner on his desk. "...That sounds like a you problem, and I'm over listening to your excuses," he replied to Luke before switching the phone to his other hand and pulling a pen out of the holder near his computer monitor.

"...No. Get it done." With that, Max hung up, tossing his phone down onto a pile of folders and marking something off of his planner with enough force that the pen stroke was easily heard in the now much quieter space.

"What?" he spat, looking back up at his younger sister.

"Angela got invited to Carter Davenport's party."

"And?"

"And Carter told her you'd already confirmed you were coming."

If people could bristle like cats, Max absolutely would have. He hated people making decisions for him. His parents only had the privilege because they were his parents, and even then, Max frequently found ways to skirt around certain rules as he saw fit.

But Carter Bauer Davenport's friendship was a valuable commodity to the family business... Max didn't want them losing that kind of a connection. At least not on account of anything he'd done or said on his end.

"When is it?"

"Next Friday I think, but I'm not sure." Elise crossed her arms casually in front of herself. "I wasn't invited."

"Can you find out for me?"   

"Sure, I guess."

Max nodded, penning something down, before pausing and glancing back up at her since she'd still not moved. "...Yes?"

"How's your friend been," she asked with an innocent smile. "You haven't talked about him..."

A grin started on Max's face, but he tamed it into a neutral expression. "You mean Oz?"

"Yeah," she chimed. "Everything still good between the two of you?"

"Yeah...it is," Max said, glancing at his partly open door before lowering his voice, and adding, "We have a date tonight."

Elise covered her thrilled expression with her hand, but it didn't catch the little squeal and giggle that came out of her.

"Why are you so interested in this?" Max asked, leaning forward, his own amusement showing in his warm eyes. "Angela's usually the nosy one, not you..."

"I dunno," Elise scrunched her nose while she shrugged. "I guess it's just...you seem different around him, Marc."

"Different?"

"A good different. Happier. It's cute."

Max rolled his eyes, before motioning for her to get out. "Go on. I got more calls to make."

"Fiiine."

"And get those party deets for me!"

"I will~!"

"Only a hundred? That's almost minimum wage!" Oscar scoffed as he tossed the envelope back across the hood of the car that Charles was working on.

"Look, ya do good work, but I ain't made of money. Take off what you still owed me for the parts for your bike, and that's all that was left."

"You cheap son of a bitch..." Oscar sighed and raked his hand through his dark hair. At this rate, he wasn't going to be paying off those club dues anytime this year, not with rent, and gas, and a fucking phone bill—all the little things really started to add up fast when you didn't have money.

"Well, did you look at the shopping list I gave ya?" Charley wondered as he went back to working on the car between them, the rhythmic click of the ratchet accompanied by the distant radio music in the background...

"I was getting to it," Oscar mumbled as he drew a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips.

Charley was the one to sigh this time, while pulling back from his work, wiping his hands on a shop towel before taking out his readers and a list from the breast pocket of his oil stained Dickies shirt. He perched the glasses on his nose and looked over the list as he strode across the shop, Oscar right behind him until he tossed the list down on the workbench and pointed to something at the top of the list.

"The Bugatti on there... You get one of these, and you'll have enough cash to square all your debts, and get an apartment on the east side."

Oscar eyed the list before leveling his gaze with Charley.

"What's the catch?"

"Heh... Well, there's only three of 'em in Kingsport." Charley pulled the list away from another sheet of paper stuck behind it, to reveal a list of names and addresses that he handed to Oscar.

One was a dealership showroom, sure to have the most security and surveillance, which made it the least appealing target. Next, of course, was someone with the most Italian sounding name Oscar had ever seen, Rufino Dina. So, that prospect didn't sound great. And last, was a name that Oscar just stared at for a very long moment...

AJ Gallagher.

"You up for it?" Charley wondered, but Oscar didn't respond right away.

He couldn't help feeling like this was somehow a setup. Maybe not by Charley, but he wouldn't put it past Victor to pull this shit as some sort of bullshit test of loyalty.

"Fuck it. What could go wrong?" Oscar said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and snatched the list, shoving it into his pocket. If this was a test, Victor was gonna have to do better than that to get rid of him.

He'd get that Bugatti, and he'd do it all on his own, too.

"Should I leave the shop open a little late tonight, then?" Charley offered.

"Not tonight," Oscar tossed over his shoulder as he turned. "I got a date tonight."

"Hang on, Oscar, what's the rush? You still got plenty of time before this evening, why not stop by the clubhouse for a few?"

Oscar stopped dramatically, he felt like a teenager all over again, trying to decipher the correct answers that would permit him to end the conversation so that he could go do what he wanted for the rest of the evening.

"I will," he lied.

"When? Aint seen ya there in a few months... Aint seen ya at any rides lately either."

Oscar let out a dramatic sigh, but Charley didn't seem phased; probably because he had his own kids around Oscar's age.

"I don't know—later?"

"Look, I get you like your whole lone wolf act, but the gang doesn't work like that. If you really don't want to be in the club anymore—"

"I do!" Oscar interrupted, getting a gentle huff out of Charley.

"Then you could stand to act like it sometimes! We're a family, dammit!" Charley snapped, and punctuated his statement with a smack of his shop rag against the side of the car, making Oscar blink. "Look, Johnny wouldn't want to see you like this."

Oscar winced more at that statement than he had Charley's yelling, bringing up Johnny was a low blow. He also didn't really appreciate some unwanted psyche evaluation from a fucking car mechanic.

"Heh. Yeah, well, then maybe he should have stuck around," Oscar grumbled, his tone growing a little more distant. Charley didn't know what Johnny would want. Oscar knew that because Johnny was dead, and dead guys didn't want shit, because they were dead.

"We all miss him... A hell of a lot more than we miss Daryl, I'll tell ya that," Charley said a little softer while he leaned back against the hood of the car. "Ya don't have to be a social butterfly, just stop by the clubhouse a few times. Without Vic having to twist your arm, ya know? Act like ya still want to wear that leather jacket." Charley pointed directly at Oscar.

"Fiiiine, I'll stop by! Not tonight though, I got... things to do, and stuff," Oscar said, physically trying to shrug off Charley's critical gaze. As a show of good faith he added, "When's the next ride?"

His question got a smile out of Charley. "Tomorrow."

"I'll be there! See? Problem solved! Now you can back the fuck up off my ass!" Oscar said, raising his hands as though he'd solved world hunger, and then patted Charley's broad shoulder.

Charley looked satisfied, despite Oscar's mocking tone. "Great, I'll see ya there. Don't stay out too late. It's going to be an early one!" Charley tossed back, slapping Oscar on the back a little harder than he probably needed to, in Oscar's opinion... He sensed some lingering hostility.

"Right, right," Oscar said, putting on his shades and walking to his bike. He was sure he'd be in bed early. Just the word, "orchestra" made his eyes glaze over in boredom.

Then again, when he and Max were together, things were rarely ever boring...

Any one else listening to Ace Hood after this chapter? Can't just be me... 😴👀🤑❤️‍🔥

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