Chapter 17: Gangsters
"Don't take Liam out to beg, okay? I'm heading out now."
Fiona handed Liam over to Frank and reminded him sternly before leaving for work.
In the past, the old Frank had taken Liam to beg on the streets whenever he was short on cash—more than once. That's why Fiona made it a point to warn him now.
Since he had to watch over Liam, Frank didn't go scavenging today. Instead, he took the savings he had painstakingly built up over the past few weeks and paid off the overdue gas bill, finally restoring the heating in the house.
Chicago winters were no joke—about as harsh as the northern parts of China. Without heating, it was nearly impossible to survive the cold.
"Money… sigh."
Stepping out of the building, Frank looked down at the less than $100 left in his hand and sighed heavily.
He had initially planned to live frugally, slowly pay off his credit card debt, and get the family back on track. But life had other plans.
Living costs money—lots of it. In big cities like Beijing, even with a monthly salary of 10–20k RMB, it's nearly impossible to save anything after rent, transportation, food, and other expenses. People often end up owing more than they make, not to mention the crushing real estate prices.
By contrast, in smaller cities, even a modest salary could stretch further if you owned your home and lived more simply.
The old Frank hadn't cared about any of this. He spent recklessly on booze and paid zero attention to the household. Everything—food, utilities, bills—was cobbled together by Fiona and the kids.
Now that Frank had stepped up as the family's head, he had to start shouldering real responsibility—like paying that gas bill.
Even though he'd managed to get the heat turned back on, it had wiped out all his savings. He was back to square one.
At this rate, who knew how long it would take to pay off the credit cards?
"Hey, Frank!"
Just as Frank was holding Liam and stressing over money, a voice called out from behind.
He turned around to see two men walking toward him.
The one in front wore a leather jacket, had a scruffy mustache, and a thin, wiry frame. The guy behind him was much taller but had a painfully receding hairline. Both had rough, mean-looking faces—the kind that screamed trouble from a mile away.
"Robo, Vlad…"
Frank recognized them and muttered their names.
"What do you want?" he asked, already on guard.
They were trouble. Gang members. Frank had done shady business with them in the past—small-time hustles to score booze money.
"We've got a little job. Thought you might be interested," said Robo, the skinny one, slinging an arm around Frank's shoulder.
Robo laid it out: they were planning an insurance scam involving a car. Basically, classic fraud—crash the car, file a claim, get a payout.
But insurance fraud wasn't a cakewalk. Insurance companies had entire departments trained to spot this kind of stuff. If they got caught, they wouldn't just lose the money—they'd be facing criminal charges.
They weren't from Chicago, either. Their gang was based in Milwaukee. They'd come here to reduce the risk of being identified.
To pull off the job cleanly, they needed a local—someone with no prior connection to them.
That's where Frank came in.
"You don't have to do anything complicated. Just park the car in a remote spot. We'll handle the rest," Robo assured him.
"Sorry. You'll have to find someone else," Frank said firmly, frowning.
The old Frank would've jumped at the chance. Easy money for practically no effort? He'd have been all in.
But not this Frank. Maybe it was because he used to live in China and had always been a law-abiding citizen. Maybe it was because his instincts now recoiled at anything illegal.
And more than that—if he got arrested, who would take care of the kids?
"Think about it, man. This isn't some petty scam. This one job could net you thousands. We'll give you a cut."
Robo tried to persuade him.
They weren't familiar with Chicago. They needed someone reliable, and Frank fit the bill—someone who knew the streets and had worked with them before.
Just then, Frank noticed something across the street that made his expression darken.
It was Lip—his son. He had his arm around a blonde girl, and three other boys had stopped him in his tracks.
Frank's brow furrowed. He recognized those boys—they were Milkoviches.
The Milkovich family was the real local menace—everyone in the neighborhood knew not to mess with them.
Their father was a notorious thug and a frequent guest in prison.
And the kids had followed right in his footsteps—bullies, criminals, gangsters. Mugging, extortion, even bank robbery—they did it all.
"I'll talk to you later," Frank said quickly and walked over.
"Hey, Mickey," Lip said when he saw the shorter boy standing in front of him.
"You helped me get a B+ on that English essay," Mickey said flatly.
In Western schools, grades are usually letters instead of numbers. A B+ is roughly equivalent to 85–90 out of 100. Over 90 is an A.
"Nice. Spread the word, would you? Help me grow the business. I heard Iggy got out of juvie?" Lip asked casually.
Iggy was one of Mickey's brothers.
The Milkoviches had a whole gang of kids, all equally reckless.
Juvenile detention was a revolving door for them. And once they became adults, it was straight to prison—just like their dad.
"I need to talk to you. You're smart—you probably already know what this is about," Mickey said darkly.
"What's up?" Lip asked.
"Ian hooked up with Mandy," Mickey said.
Mandy—Mickey's little sister—the only girl in the Milkovich Family.
"Ian?"
Lip looked stunned.
"That's impossible."
"Mandy told me herself," Mickey said.
"Trust me, you've got the wrong guy. It's definitely not Ian," Lip said with absolute certainty.