Page 47 of Gathered Sparkle

Oscar-fucking-Lane.

He’s sitting in front of me. My childhood hero. The guy I used to idolize as a teen. The one I wanted to grow up and be like someday.

And now, here he is. Right across from me. In the same godforsaken hole.

For the first time in years, a spark ignites inside me, something other than the endless, dull numbness. I stare at him, taking in the wiry build, the sharp features, and that easy smirk that used to light up television screens and Vegas stages.

It looks out of place here.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

His eyebrows lift, a flicker of amusement in his expression. “Something wrong?”

“Just didn’t expect to seeyouin here.” I lean back against the wall. “Guess celebrities don’t get VIP treatment after all.”

“You’d be surprised.” Oscar chuckles. “But I’m guessing you’re not rolling out the red carpet for me, either, huh?”

“Yeah.” I huff a humorless laugh. “No selfies, sorry. They took my phone on the way in.”He smirks at me, and it’s almost enough to make me forget where we are.Almost.“What’d they get you for? Stealing the spotlight?”

That smirk of his grows like he’s enjoying the attitude, which is a relief because these days, my sarcasm usually earns me a fist to the face instead of a chuckle.

“I was framed,” he states like he’s talking about a bad poker hand. “And don’t bother asking if I did it. I didn’t. But I know who did, and now I’ve got some time to figure out how to repay them for the favor.”

The conviction in his voice is unsettling. I’ve heard plenty of tough talk since I got here, but this is different. He sounds… deliberate.

“Revenge, huh?” I cross my arms. “Good luck with that. Doesn’t usually go the way people think it will.”

I’ve seen enough idiots in here, stewing in their anger, plotting their big comeback, only to land right back in these cells when they screw it up.

“You sound like someone who’s had a few plans blow up in their face.”

I huff a laugh. “Nope, not talking about me. I’m pretty good at making them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess that makes two of us.” He leans back, stretching out his legs. “We’ll get along just fine.”

“Sure.” I snort, shaking my head. “Best friends already.”

The sound of heavy boots outside the cell makes me tense. Holloway is there, leaning against the bars, smirking in that way that makes my skin crawl.

Oscar doesn’t even turn his head before speaking. “You looking for trouble?” I flinch involuntarily. “Or do you need a lesson in minding your own damn business?”

The larger man stiffens, his smirk faltering. He sizes Oscar up, calculating, before spitting on the floor and stalking off.

I exhale, the knot in my stomach loosening a fraction. “Why’d you do that?”

“Didn’t like the look of him.” Oscar shrugs. “And I don’t like bullies. Simple as that.”

“Right.” I scoff, pulling my knees to my chest. “What, you expect me to thank you now? Or owe you a favor?”

“Nah.” His expression softens, not pity, exactly, but close. “You don’t owe me shit.”

That throws me off. Everyone in here wants something.

Favors, protection, power.

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