Fiona bit her lower lip, internally torn.
Earning 20 percent more was a massive temptation for someone who survived on odd jobs year-round.
Now, "just one last day" gave her an out, a mental safety valve making it acceptable.
But Fiona was still uneasy. She needed Lip to give her one more reason to fully convince her: "What if shit hits the fan? What if we get caught red-handed on Monday—"
Lip scoffed. "I already checked. City inspection vans, Health Department fat cats... it's a miracle if they even brew a cup of coffee in their office before 9 AM on a Monday. They rarely patrol before 9:30. We just set up slightly earlier, then pack up right at 8:30—8:45 at the latest. Let those lazy bastards wasting taxpayer money eat shit."
Lip's confidence infected Fiona. She looked at the tempting upward curve on the computer screen, but also remembered how those old street vendors looked at them.
She knew they were playing with fire, but "startup capital" hit her weak spot...
Just one last time. Nothing will happen. Shane won't know. If we just grab Monday's foot traffic, we'll be one step closer to the dream of owning a shop...
Finally, Fiona nodded. "OK, we do one last run."
Before long, Fiona parked in front of a decent-looking apartment building.
"You sure? Classmate who needs tutoring lives here?" Fiona looked at the building out the window.
Lip nodded. "Yeah, right here. You head back first, I'll make my own way home when I'm done. Plug my laptop in my room."
He started packing his backpack.
Fiona gave a grunt of agreement and didn't pry further.
She knew Lip regularly took gigs doing other kids' homework.
Plus, most of her mind was stuck on Monday's "last score," too lazy to ask more.
Lip watched Fiona drive off and disappear around the corner before turning and pulling out his phone.
Screen lit up, displaying a very short text at the top.
Brenda: Come over Saturday morning. Got a surprise for you. Don't forget your "tools."
Lip pocketed his phone, adjusted his clothes, and walked up to knock on the door.
Moments later, door opened. Wave of perfume hit his face.
Brenda stood inside wearing a silk robe, practically wearing her thirst on her face.
Lip flashed her a smile.
Looking into the living room, Lip spotted another MILF sitting on the couch, boldly sizing him up with the same hungry look.
"Lip, honey, you're finally here."
Brenda stepped aside to let him in and shut the door.
"Told you I had a surprise. This is my good friend Jasmine. Lately she's... well, things haven't been harmonious at home, running into some little problems."
Jasmine stood up and walked right over. Her eyes wandered from Lip's youthful but handsome face down to his body, finally landing on those hands Brenda claimed were highly skilled.
"I heard from Sarah you're very, very good at cleaning pipes?"
"Funny enough, my plumbing hasn't been flowing right lately either. Keeps getting backed up, it's so frustrating. Wonder if you have enough confidence to service both of us properly?"
Brenda pressed up against him too, wrapping her arms around Lip's waist and resting her head on his chest.
"Yeah, Lip, you always know what to do, right? Jasmine is very generous."
Feeling the heat of arms around his waist and seeing intense stares from these two housewives, Lip slowly cracked a smile. "Of course. Handling blocked pipes is what I do best."
Back at the Gallagher house, Debbie was hugging a doll, face full of heavy thoughts.
Carl was in his bedroom, violently dismantling an alarm clock. Parts were scattered all over the floor.
"Carl," Debbie walked into the room, stepping up next to him.
"I'm going to look for Frank."
Carl didn't look up, still twisting a screw with a screwdriver.
"Why look for Frank? If Shane finds out, he'll definitely kick my ass (Shane would just assume these stupid ideas were all Carl's)."
"Plus, Shane and Lip both said they don't give a shit if Frank dies. Better if he drops dead in some trash-filled corner where the government won't find out, saving us from getting dragged away by DCFS again."
"I'm not trying to bring him back!" Debbie yelled back, before her voice dropped lower.
"I just want to know if he's still alive. What if... what if he needs help?"
Her mind flashed to the candy Frank occasionally gave her, and an even older memory: Frank carrying her on his shoulders down the street, cheering. In that moment, they were no different from a real father and daughter.
Carl finally looked up. Seeing Debbie's reddening eyes, he curled his lip.
To his currently un-evolved brain, Frank was just a source of trouble. Occasional fun moments couldn't outweigh the chaos he brought.
But he knew how stubborn Debbie could be.
Debbie looked at Carl's indifferent face and knew she needed to sweeten the deal.
Her little brain spun quickly, suddenly remembering exactly what Carl had been obsessing over lately.
She ran back to her room and pulled a small object from under her pillow. She remembered Shane's dead-serious face when he handed it to her: "Never let Carl find this."
Guilt washed over Debbie, but... she flashed the item right in front of Carl's face.
Blue-white electricity arced between the prongs with a loud, buzzing snap.
Carl's eyes went wide instantly. He dropped the screwdriver on the floor.
Taser!
The little self-defense toy Shane gave everyone in the house (except him). Besides this, there was also pepper spray (concentrated ghost pepper extract).
He'd been dying to get his hands on it, but Shane explicitly said no and forbade the rest of the family from giving him one, arguing it was a miracle Carl wasn't already tasing random people.
"If you come with me and help me ask around," Debbie said, waving the taser.
"I'll let you play with it for two days. Swear."
"OK, deal!" Carl jumped up, reaching out to grab it.
But Debbie pulled her hand back, hiding the taser behind her.
"Help first, goods later. And you have to listen to me. No running off, no causing trouble."
Debbie tried hard to project big sister authority.
Carl scratched his head anxiously, but ultimate craving for the taser crushed everything else. "Fine, fine, I'll listen. When do we leave?"
A moment later, the siblings sneaked downstairs.
Only Ian was in the living room, sitting on the couch watching a marine biology documentary. It was a rare day off for him.
Liam was sucking his thumb in the crib next to him.
"Ian," Debbie tried to make her voice sound natural.
"Carl and I are going to a classmate's little party nearby. Liam—"
Ian pulled his attention from the TV screen. He looked at a fully dressed Debbie and Carl, who wore an "I'm being good" expression but looked insanely hyped. Ian didn't think much of it.
South Side kids running around was normal.
"Alright, go on. Have fun, don't stay out too late. I'll watch Liam."
Ian smiled gently, his attention drifting back to the ocean footage on TV.
"Thanks Ian!" Debbie quickly grabbed Carl and ran out the door.