Fiona took the water, gulped down a large mouthful, and then wiped her face hard.
"Last night, I pretended to run into Tony. I told him the area where we set up the stall hasn't been very peaceful lately, that there were thugs hanging around, and I was a little scared. Then I asked him if police officers patrol near the subway entrance..."
Fiona's voice got quieter as she spoke. Even Carl wouldn't believe this lame excuse—what day in the South Side didn't have thugs wandering around?
When had she, Fiona Gallagher, ever been afraid of thugs?
But Tony nodded very seriously, then asked for the location and time of her stall. And sure enough, he actually showed up this morning.
Maybe Tony guessed her intention, maybe he didn't. But like he told his partner, if he didn't hold a place in Fiona's heart, she wouldn't even have given him this clumsy excuse.
Thinking of this, Fiona shook her head violently, trying to toss these thoughts away.
"I'd rather face that thug from yesterday ten times over than chat with Tony like that again. At least I know how to deal with the thug."
Shane had given Fiona plenty of defensive gadgets for that.
"Wow, Fiona Gallagher, the South Side's toughest chick, actually getting weak in the knees because of a cop who's head over heels for you? That doesn't sound good if word gets out."
Lip pointed at the surrounding vendors.
"Look at their faces. They look like they just ate shit. I think they won't be touching us for a while."
"That's the worst part," Fiona rubbed her temples. "I feel like I played with his feelings. I don't want to do that, but I really needed him standing here. This feeling is just..."
Fiona shivered as she spoke.
"It just sucks."
"As long as it works. If you really want to make it up to him, find a time to have a meal with him, touch his hand occasionally, and he'll probably be floating on cloud nine."
Fiona wanted to refute Lip, but thinking about it, that seemed to be exactly the case.
After running the stall for a bit longer, the two packed up.
Lip sat in the driver's seat, while Fiona began counting the morning's revenue. Her fingers moved nimbly, coins jingling.
Soon, she calculated the profit for the morning.
"527 dollars and 40 cents."
Fiona announced the number, her voice full of unhappiness.
Lip turned his head sideways, stared at the stack of money for a while, and didn't speak either.
Over 500. A week or two ago, this would have been a huge sum for their family.
But now he knew better. The last few mornings had consistently been at least 600, hitting close to 800 during peaks. But today, it was nearly 200 short instantly.
This was also the lowest morning income Fiona had seen since she started the stall.
"The hot dog stall and bagel stall took a slice of the pie. Shit, the other vendors probably lowered their prices too and pulled back a few regular customers," Lip began to analyze.
Fiona didn't make a sound, just silently stacked the money neatly.
Although this was still a lot of money, it's easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but hard to go from extravagance to frugality.
She had tasted a daily profit of 1000. Looking at this mere 500-plus now, her heart felt empty, even a bit panicked: It's only been a few days—will it get even lower later?
"Fiona."
Lip patted her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Seriously, listen to me. Let's get the food truck running directly."
Fiona's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively wanted to object: "Shane said—"
"Forget about what he said."
Lip didn't let Fiona finish. He was already annoyed—Shane this, Shane that. It made him feel like he was being outshined by Shane.
"The risk he talked about was fearing the patrol cops and those government types during the day, right? We're only doing it in the morning."
"Those guys in uniforms, do they come out to sweep the streets at 7 or 8 in the morning? The probability is tiny. And I'm not going to some far-off place; we'll stay right near this street."
"This street?"
"Right, this street."
Lip pointed upstream from the subway entrance, toward a fork in the road.
"I've observed it. Walk about 150 meters forward from our stall, near that intersection. In the morning, there are quite a few people coming from the west, but no one sets up a stall there because it's still a distance from the subway hub, so the foot traffic isn't huge enough for those old vendors to bother moving."
He tapped the steering wheel as he spoke.
"Even if a stray uniform really wanders over, or if there's other trouble, I just slam the door and floor it. It's way faster than packing up tables. You stay at the original spot, I'll choke off that intersection. We can eat up more of the crowd flow, and our income can bounce back, maybe even far exceed before."
Listening to Lip's analysis, Fiona was tempted.
Was Lip right? Yes. There were indeed few officials managing things in the morning.
She knew that intersection too; there was traffic...
Most importantly, their income would increase.
The Gallaghers would never complain about having too much money. The fear of poverty and the greed for money flowed in their blood, even if that greed had only recently been nourished.
A look of struggle flashed across Fiona's face. On one side was Shane's warning and potential risks; on the other was the possibility of more green bills.
Lip saw Fiona wavering and lowered his voice.
"Fiona. Let's just try it for two days. If the situation doesn't look right, we stop immediately."
Fiona looked up at Lip.
"We just won't let Shane know. Wait until we hand him a bigger share of the money, then he'll agree. Otherwise, he'll just put on that 'I told you so' preaching face again, nagging about risks, nagging about stability, nagging endlessly."
Lip twitched the corner of his mouth as he spoke, as if he could already hear Shane's "lecture."
"Of course he wants stability. His coaching business sounds like it has a bright future, but what about us? We have to grab what we can grab."
Fiona's lips pressed into a thin line.
Shane's warning appeared in her mind, but the obviously shrunken income before her eyes, and the desire for more money—two different thoughts were tearing at her.
In the end, the fear of loss overwhelmed the worry about risk. Or perhaps, she had wanted to do this all along.
"Then let's try it."
Fiona's voice was unconsciously a bit nervous, as if Shane were right next to them.
"We'll only try for these two days first. Also, you have to be extremely careful. If anything feels off, run immediately."
Seeing Fiona agree, a smile appeared on Lip's face.
"No problem, absolutely careful. Tonight I'll optimize our stall setup process. I found some places where we can do better, guaranteeing that one person can handle a breakfast stall alone."
Fiona nodded, but she still felt a twinge of guilt for going against Shane's instructions.
She tried to change the subject, and also tried to divert her own attention.
"By the way," she remembered what Shane mentioned at the dinner table last night.
"Last night, Shane seemed to say his Facebook got some messy messages and some people followed him?"
Lip was in the middle of his excitement. Hearing this, he replied casually, "Oh, that. Those fitness photos he put up are meant for people to look at, right? Now people are looking. How many did he say? I forgot."
He recalled Shane's face and how eye-catching those muscles were, and casually estimated a number. "Probably a few dozen people watching?"
Fiona also pretended to think. "I estimate there are—"
99+!
After lunch, Shane connected to the WiFi, wanting to check the progress of his account.
Unexpectedly, the phone started dinging and vibrating incessantly like a vibrator.
He looked at the Facebook message icon—it had shot straight to 99+!