Oscar has never tried to fit in and has never wanted to, but when his party friend, Max, is revealed to be mafia prince, Marcus Gallagher, suddenly being a 'lone wolf' is no longer an option; not if Oscar wants to woo his prince and get out alive!
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"Well?" Mrs. Gallagher stared at Oscar expectantly, her scrutinizing gaze betraying a hint of curiosity. "You must be either a very good friend of Marcus, or in an awful lot of trouble, for him to have brought you here."
"Yes, ma'am—I mean, I am a friend of Marcus's, Ma'am," Oscar replied, without seeming to take a breath, as he pulled his hands out of his pockets and stood at attention like he was being interrogated by law enforcement.
Only that Oscar wouldn't have behaved that way for any officer of the law... In fact, Max knew the punk to be more sarcastic and insolent with nearly any form of authority he interacted with—until now. An astonished snort left Max, and he wasn't able to tame his smirk before his mother's eyes were on him. She raised her brows, and Max replied. "You're freaking him out, Mom."
"Good," Gloria said, sounding rather pleased, glancing over Oscar again before pacing a small circle around the punk, heels clicking against tile like the counter on a detonator. "As a friend of my son, I'll expect you to remember you're a guest in this house, and that you'll mind myself and its occupants accordingly." She then turned to Marcus, who leaned down for her to give him a brief kiss on the cheek. "Speak to your father before you go off getting distracted with whatever it is you have planned," she said before stepping away, then adding, "And tell Mr. Maylone if your nameless friend intends to stay for dinner, so he can plan accordingly."
Max nodded. "Got it."
They both watched her disappear down a hall, before Max let loose a barely restrained cackle. "Where did that come from?" he teased, elbowing Oscar in the side. "You didn't even look that nervous when what's-his-face was bleeding out, that day at the boardwalk." He motioned for Oz to follow him. "I didn't even know it was possible for you to act so...respectable."
Oscar glared back at Max, but the slight tint of pink across his cheeks made him look less intimidating than he'd probably have liked. "Look, I—I was just brought up to respect ladies, alright? And you didn't warn me that your mom had ragging 'step-on-me; vibes!" Oscar snapped back in a hushed tone, just in case Mrs. Gallagher was still somewhere within ear shot. "On another note, you lied to me. You said you and your sister were the only hot ones in your family!"
"I didn't lie." Max lowered his voice as well, though he was still grinning. "I said I thought we were the most attractive out of my family cuz Elise was right there, and I have two sisters, by the way. You haven't met Angela yet. Although, if you hadn't pulled that brilliant move at Davenport's, then you probably would have."
Come to think of it, that was very likely why she'd been calling him. God only knew what people at the party had been saying about the incident.
It wasn't uncommon for shit to go down at parties where there were a bunch of wealthy inheritors with big, but easily bruised egos, booze, babes, and drugs. But shit like what Oscar pulled didn't happen. Sure, none of them liked each other that much, and would be offensive, and sometimes even get physical, but there was this sort of unspoken understanding. A sense of respect; not so much for the individual, but rather for the value of their things... You didn't trash someone else's crib, and you certainly didn't fuck with their rides.
