Chapter 142: Frank's Brilliant Little Scheme
"Did you forget something?"
Fiona's voice carried a faint, almost playful pout.
"Hm? Forget something?"
William thought for a moment—then it hit him.
He'd forgotten to take Fiona to see the restaurant.
He gave his head a light tap. "Last night's mess with Liam threw everything off. You can't blame just me for that."
"Alright, fair enough," Fiona said. "So… does the surprise still exist?"
Truth be told, Fiona was desperate—
not just physically, but emotionally.
For nearly half a year, the weight of life had been crushing her.
If William hadn't returned when he did, things might have spiraled badly.
"Heh. Of course it does."
After all, if he didn't keep Fiona firmly hooked, how could he legitimately torment the Gallagher family?
William agreed without hesitation.
"How about this," he continued. "I've got a social engagement tonight. Once I'm done, I'll call you."
They chatted a little more before he hung up.
The engine started, and William drove out of the South Side.
---
North Side
In a parking lot.
William's car rolled smoothly into a space.
He stepped out.
No sign of Amanda.
He pulled out his phone and called her.
"Amanda, I'm here. Where are you?"
He scanned the lot.
A moment later, the headlights of a BMW 7 Series blinked twice.
Then Amanda stepped out of the car.
She was wearing a purple tank top, carrying a Hello Kitty backpack, and casually holding a lollipop.
"Hey~"
The moment she saw William, her face lit up.
She walked straight over, wrapped him in a tight hug—and without saying a word, leaned in and kissed him.
If the situation hadn't been inappropriate, Amanda might have tackled him to the ground right there—dry tinder meeting open flame, swift and merciless justice on the spot.
---
Outside Dottie Coronis's Apartment
(a.k.a. "Butterface")
Frank stood behind the iron gate, craning his neck and peering around suspiciously.
In his hands were two takeout boxes.
American-style boxed meals—vegetarian spaghetti.
After a moment, he slapped the gate hard.
From inside came Dottie's voice:
"Who the hell is banging on my door?"
"It's me—Frank Gallagher, Dottie."
Barely a second passed before she snapped back:
"Get the hell out!"
If Frank had any shame, that might've been enough to send him slinking away.
But shame was not something Frank Gallagher possessed.
If his skin could be mass-produced, it would be the most bulletproof body armor known to mankind.
"I brought you vegetable spaghetti."
Dottie, well aware of exactly what kind of trash Frank was, didn't hesitate:
"Go eat shit, Frank."
Any normal person would've taken the hint and left in embarrassment.
But Frank?
Though a shameless bastard, he was also a Northwestern University dropout with a sharp tongue.
He cracked a joke to defuse the moment.
"I would, but I'm vegetarian these days."
Laughter came from inside the apartment.
Then, almost immediately, the laughter turned into coughing.
Dottie approached the door.
Seeing her standing there in light clothing, Frank scratched his head.
"Honestly, Dottie… Antoine told us about your condition.
"My health isn't great either.
"The folks at the bar really miss you. So I brought you dinner—and wanted to tell you that in person."
For once, Frank wasn't lying.
Ever since William broke his leg, it ached whenever the weather turned bad.
And he'd been living on the streets for months.
Of course, "living on the streets" for Frank meant couch-surfing, mooching, sneaking showers at shelters—or occasionally at the Gallagher house.
As for the two boxes of pasta?
He'd invested a lot of effort stealing them from Antoine's food truck.
Since getting sick, Dottie had lived alone, unable to work.
Cut off from society, loneliness had started to creep in.
So even when it was Frank Gallagher, her heart softened a little.
"No lasagna?" she asked.
Truth was, Frank didn't know a damn thing—he'd grabbed whatever he could during his zero-dollar shopping spree.
"These were the last ones," he said with a shrug.
"What are you doing right now?" he asked casually.
"I'm watching one of those shows where fat people hate themselves for being fat," Dottie replied.
"Makes me feel healthy."
Those shows were everywhere in America.
TV networks didn't care whether broadcasting that garbage harmed society.
They barely cared about standards at all.
Even the news ran on vibes and conscience alone.
And as time went on, America's conscience only grew thinner.
So junk television like this came to dominate the airwaves.
Frank hadn't actually seen the show—he was just fishing for common ground.
"I love that show. I hate fat people."
No moral floor to worry about—he could say anything.
"Do you hear that beeping?" Dottie suddenly asked, glancing at the pager clipped to her waist.
It was a medical pager.
If it ever rang, it meant a compatible heart donor had been found.
She'd hallucinated that sound more than once.
Frank, unaware of its significance, glanced around.
"Someone locking their car," he said offhandedly.
Dottie looked at him.
Truth was… she really wanted company.
Odds were, she didn't have many months left.
"Listen," she said, "I'm about to miss my show."
Frank seized the opening instantly.
"Mind if I watch with you?"
Which was exactly what she wanted.
Still, out of pride, she said,
"I haven't showered. And I don't feel like showering."
Frank replied shamelessly,
"Me neither!"
That left Dottie very little room to refuse—especially when she wanted the company anyway.
She laid down her rules firmly:
"This is not an invitation to stay.
"You sit on the couch.
You watch fat people on TV.
Then you leave.
"No bed.
No breakfast."
Frank didn't rush things.
His goal was to trick Dottie into marrying him—
so he could inherit her pension and the apartment.
As for divorcing Monica?
That could wait.
"Roger that!"
Dottie didn't know whether letting Frank in was a mistake.
But she was already at the door.
She unlocked the iron gate.
Frank stepped inside, smiling from ear to ear.
---
At the same time—
William and Amanda were sitting on the breakwater by Lake Michigan.
Each of them held a box of Panda Express.
To be honest, William didn't think this stuff counted as Chinese food at all.