"Yes!!!"
"Yes!!!!"
Lip collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon.
His throat was dry. He reached for the water glass on the nightstand, but it was empty.
Mrs. Brenda wrapped herself in a blanket and padded out of the room. When she came back, she was carrying two steaming mugs of hot cocoa.
She took one look at Lip's dead-eyed expression and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, my little lion?"
She set a mug beside him and took a sip from her own.
"You look like somebody just stole your turf. Was I not enough for you tonight?"
She said it with a knowing smirk, because Lip's mood was way past "not enough."
Lip grabbed the cocoa, took a long pull, and snorted. "I'm not some animal fighting over territory."
"Then why the sour face?" Brenda climbed back onto the bed and sat right next to him.
She studied the tight line of his jaw and the dark cloud that refused to leave his eyes.
"This isn't like you. Usually by now you'd be up coding on that laptop or trying to squeeze extra cash out of me."
Lip stayed quiet.
A few seconds later he turned his head and looked at the woman who, in a fucked-up way, had walked him into adulthood. Something inside him cracked open and the words just spilled out.
"I've got a brother."
"Mmm-hmm?"
Brenda wasn't surprised. Everybody in the South Side knew the Gallaghers—Frank's kids were basically local celebrities.
"He's not smarter than me," Lip said fast, like he needed to get that on record first.
Then he paused, brow knotting. "But I think he's trying to lead me now—"
Brenda set her mug down. Understanding flashed in her eyes. "You mean he's the one calling the shots at home these days? The actual head of the family?"
Lip's face tightened. He pressed his lips together and looked away. "He's just my little brother. But everybody listens to him now. Even me—"
He didn't finish, but the frustration of being managed—of feeling controlled—leaked out anyway.
Brenda didn't laugh. She just gave him the soft, knowing smile adults give when a kid is finally hitting the wall they've been running toward.
"Lip."
She pulled his head against her chest and started slowly stroking his curls.
"You know what's really rare in the South Side—in any shithole corner of this world?"
Lip stayed buried against her, silent.
"It sure as hell isn't being smart."
Brenda answered her own question and kept going.
"Smart? You can fish a dozen smart guys out of every gutter around here—"
She tapped his chest with one finger.
"What's rare is somebody who can actually carry the weight. Smart? Ha. Smart is a curse down here. It lets you see every dead-end road but never shows you one that works. It makes you think you can win every hand, then you lose the whole damn game. I've seen too many smart boys, Lip. They all end up in prison or right back in the gutter."
Her voice dipped, eyes drifting for a second. "When I was younger, I used to pray for somebody—anybody—who would step up and say, 'I got this, I'll handle it.' Instead I had to do everything myself, using my body, my little schemes, bouncing between one asshole man and the next mess."
She looked down at him again, tone serious now. "You can keep resenting him, Lip. Resenting that he stole your spotlight, that he's the one in charge. That's normal. But there's a better way."
Brenda lifted his chin so he had to meet her eyes.
"You can be his second-in-command instead of fighting him for the wheel. It doesn't mean you lost or surrendered. It means you finally don't have to be the only smart one carrying every problem, every 'what the fuck do we do now' on your own shoulders."
Lip froze.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He had never looked at it from that angle before.
Maybe having someone else haul the heaviest load didn't mean he was being replaced. Maybe it was a relief. Maybe his brain could finally stop spinning on overdrive about every next move.
Maybe he could actually use his brain for something useful instead of just fighting Shane.
Before he could chase the thought any further, Brenda's hand slid lower.
"Ready for round two, my little beast?"
The knot in Lip's chest loosened a fraction. He smirked. "Hell yes."
The room filled with moans again.
While Lip and Mrs. Brenda started their next round, Saturday afternoon sunlight poured through the diner window and landed on Fiona.
She sat across from Tony, twirling creamy mushroom pasta on her fork, eating slow.
It wasn't that the food sucked—this was actually a decent meal compared to the last few days of pure chaos.
Between the van nightmare, the midnight heist, and tagging along with Frank to learn every dirty trick in the city permit game, she was running on fumes.
Tony sat ramrod straight, police jacket draped over the back of his chair. He looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, like this lunch date was the highlight of his week.
He kept stealing glances at her face while he ate.
He picked up on the exhaustion immediately. "Hey, Fiona, you look wiped. Something else go wrong? Tell me—I can help."
His eyes were intense, ready to charge into battle for her.
Fiona looked up and the guilt hit her like a truck again.
She had used him—twice—and here he was still offering to fix her problems.
The guilt softened her voice more than usual. "Thanks, Tony. Really. You've already helped me a ton."
Tony lit up like she'd just handed him a winning lottery ticket. His grin stretched ear to ear.
He reached across the table to grab her hand.
It was the eager move of a loyal police dog finally getting permission to nuzzle its owner.
Fiona smoothly slid her hand away, picked up her water glass, and took a sip like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Tony's fingers closed on empty air. He blinked, then chuckled and scratched the back of his head like nothing happened.
To cover the awkwardness—and to fish for information—Fiona set the glass down and asked casually, "By the way, Tony, when you're on patrol… have you heard anything about some trouble out by the South Suburbs impound lot a few nights ago? A buddy who does odd jobs out there said the place lit up with sirens. Sounded like somebody made a run for it and things got crazy."