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The Gallagher House.
After the "battle," Karen gritted her teeth and stuck around for another hour or so. Eventually, she couldn't take the heat anymore and desperately missed the feeling of air conditioning. She made up an excuse, said goodbye to Lip, and went home.
The house fell silent again. Lip sat alone on the couch, staring blankly at the TV for a while. Feeling hollow, he turned it off and slowly dragged himself upstairs.
Before long, the Gallagher house was pitch black and quiet.
Dexter's house, however, was still lit up.
In the second-floor bedroom, Bianca was wearing a uniform, blushing, and looking shy. She was honestly irresistible.
Dexter was having the time of his life.
Life is good.
...
The Night Deepens.
Frank, who also felt that life was good, swayed drunkenly toward Sheila's house under the double influence of drugs and alcohol.
After a long stumble, he finally arrived at Sheila's door. He pulled out his key and unlocked it.
But the chain was latched. The door only opened a crack.
Frank got anxious and started yelling immediately. "Sheila! Sheila~~"
Sheila had been waiting for Frank on the couch and had drifted off to sleep. Hearing the shouting, she jolted awake, rubbed her eyes, and realized Frank was back. She rushed to the door but didn't open it.
Sheila had mental issues, sure, but that didn't mean she didn't have a temper.
Sheila was pissed!
She had cooked such a lavish dinner, and Frank never showed up. Who knew where he went gallivanting off to with Monica...
Just thinking about it made Sheila angry. She glared fiercely at Frank through the crack.
Frank was drunk and completely failed to notice Sheila's mood. He just ordered her around bossily. "Sheila! Open the door! It's me, Frank!"
"I know," Sheila said coldly. "Why didn't you come back for dinner?"
"Dinner?" Frank had completely forgotten about dinner. Hearing Sheila mention it, he frowned, thought, and thought some more... ! He remembered.
Remembering dinner, he blinked rapidly and finally registered the expression on Sheila's face.
Uh-oh.
Resilient as a cockroach and just as cunning, Frank, even while wasted, instantly realized something was wrong. And he had a solution.
A second later.
Frank immediately flashed an ingratiating smile at Sheila and launched into an explanation. "I'm so sorry, Sheila. There was an emergency. Earlier this evening, Monica got into a fight with my mom and got arrested. And then... I found out my mom has cancer. Stage four. She doesn't have many days left..."
As he spoke, Frank's acting skills kicked into overdrive. His expression and tone became devastatingly sad. "My mom is dying. I'm losing my mom."
"I'm sorry. I should have come back for dinner."
Hearing this.
How could Sheila stay angry?
In fact, guilt washed over her instantly. Apologizing profusely, she hurried to unlatch the chain and warmly helped Frank inside. "Oh! Frank! I'm so sorry! I didn't know so much had happened to you. I thought you just forgot about dinner..."
"I shouldn't have been like that. I'm truly sorry."
Just like that, problem solved.
Sucker! Frank thought smugly, laughing internally. Then, he kept up the act. "It's okay. You didn't know. You didn't mean it. I don't blame you."
Look at that. Suddenly, Sheila was the one in the wrong.
More importantly, Sheila genuinely felt she was in the wrong.
Heh.
What a masterclass in manipulation.
A few minutes later.
Full of guilt, Sheila helped Frank up to the second floor, into the bathroom, and gently placed him in the tub. Then, she started bathing him herself.
By this time, Frank had sobered up just a tiny bit.
Clear-headed enough to enjoy the comfort of the hot water and Sheila's dedicated service...
Frank turned his head away so Sheila couldn't see his face, flashed a brilliant grin, and sighed silently to himself: Life is pretty fcking good!
...
Deep in the Night.
It was past midnight.
Gallagher House, Second Floor.
The voice of "God" in his head had disappeared. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it back. Ian felt agitated. He got out of bed and walked out barefoot, deciding to go find God.
The house was silent.
At the top of the stairs on the second floor.
Ian, looking like a completely different person from his usual self, stood quietly, tilting his head back to stare at the summer night sky through a window, trying to spot where God was hiding.
He stared for a long time.
During that time, Ian stood motionless, like a statue.
Ian still couldn't see where God was. So, he walked downstairs to search.
He searched for hours.
Still nothing.
Seeing the sky gradually brightening, Ian suddenly realized he should go home. Otherwise, Fiona and Lip would definitely try to send him to a mental hospital.
"I'll look again tomorrow night!"
Ian muttered to himself, turned around immediately, and sprinted back home barefoot.
As dawn broke.
Ian lay back in his bed and closed his eyes, acting as if nothing had happened.
Neither Fiona nor Lip had noticed Ian leaving.
Morning.
A new day.
Fiona got up and immediately ran to Ian's bedside, asking softly how he was and if he wanted breakfast.
Ian kept his eyes closed and replied, "I'll eat a little."
Hearing this, Fiona was overjoyed. She took it as a sign that Ian was getting better. She even started thinking that if this kept up, Ian wouldn't need hospitalization—just some meds. "Alright! Breakfast coming right up!"
Fiona responded happily and went straight downstairs to the kitchen, full of energy to make breakfast.
After breakfast.
She gave Lip a serious lecture, making sure he wouldn't act like he did yesterday. Then, Fiona briskly walked out the door. Once outside, she took a deep breath and let out a rare smile.
Everything will get better, slowly but surely, Fiona thought, striding toward the L train to go to work.
---
Fiona was dreaming.
Getting better? Not a chance. Things were only going to get worse.
Case in point.
The Gallagher House.
Lip's phone rang. It was the guy who drove him back from Canada. "Hi, bro. How's the leg? Ready for another run?"
Lip had just lit a cigarette. He took a drag and almost choked when he heard that. "So soon?"
"Demand is huge. After I got back, I put the word out a little, and now I have a bunch of people wanting me to bring stuff in. One trip this time, and we can make a killing! What do you say?" the caller said excitedly.
Lip had done it once and knew how much money was involved. He was instantly tempted. He subconsciously looked down at his leg, feeling a massive headache. "But my leg still isn't really mobile..."
"It's been a few days, hasn't it? Can't you use crutches?" the caller asked.
"I can move a bit with crutches, but I can't walk fast," Lip replied honestly.
"Haha, I thought you were completely bedridden! Being able to move a bit is enough. Actually, I think your condition is a good thing. We can hide stuff inside your cast! Border patrol won't check that!" the caller said confidently.
Lip thought back to the last crossing. That actually made sense. He was even more tempted now. After a brief silence, he asked, "When do you plan to go?"
"Day after tomorrow, or the day after that. What do you think? Coming with?" The caller wasn't actually that brave; he desperately needed a partner, so he pushed again.
Lip thought it over. He looked at the state of the house, thought about Ian's illness, the damn Frank and Monica situation, and the fact that the Winter Fund was completely empty...
The Gallaghers were desperate for money.
He had to make cash fast!
Relying on Fiona alone...
It wouldn't work!
They probably wouldn't survive the winter!
Reality was cruel, and only money could fight that cruelty.
Lip hardened his heart. "Alright. We leave in three days. I need some time to talk to buyers here, see what they need."
"Let's make a big score this time!"
"That's exactly what I'm thinking," the caller said excitedly. "It's a deal then. Three days!"
"Okay!" Lip agreed.
The call ended.
Lip took a hard drag on his cigarette and started figuring out how to contact buyers.
---
Around 3:00 PM.
Fiona received a call from Monica's public defender. She hurriedly asked her boss for time off—putting on her best polite voice—and rushed to the courthouse.
Monica's case was simple.
The public defender used the fact that Monica had bipolar disorder as the defense, and everything went smoothly.
The judge ruled.
Monica didn't have to serve prison time, but she was ordered to undergo seven days of psychiatric treatment at Cook County Hospital. After the seven days, her release would depend on her behavior.
If she didn't behave, the treatment would be extended until the hospital determined she was fit to return to society without harming others.
Hearing the verdict, Fiona breathed a long sigh of relief. Once again, she had the feeling that life was getting better.
As for Monica...
Monica was pissed. She almost started screaming in court. It took every ounce of her willpower to swallow the insults she wanted to hurl. "Fiona! Tell Frank to come see me!"
Fiona gave a bitter smile and nodded.
Naturally, she was just placating her.
Fiona had absolutely zero interest in finding Frank to deliver that message.
Shortly after.
Monica was loaded onto a bus headed for Cook County Hospital.
Fiona didn't dare waste time and immediately rushed back to work.
...
Sheila's House.
Frank slept until past 3:00 PM before waking up.
Sitting up, Frank scratched his head and groggy. Then, remembering that Peg was dying, he started grinning, feeling incredibly happy.
He laughed happily for a bit...
But suddenly, the smile faded, turning bitter against his will.
A wave of sadness washed over him.
Frank couldn't explain what was happening.
He clearly wished that old bitch would die sooner. Now that Peg was actually dying, why the hell was he sad?!!
After a while.
As the sadness became more distinct, Frank couldn't take it anymore. He decided to go see if Peg was dead yet.
"If she's dead, I have to find that money!" Frank told himself firmly.
Before long.
Frank got dressed and went downstairs.
Sheila couldn't leave the house and had been waiting for Frank to wake up. Seeing him, she greeted him excitedly. "Frank! You must be hungry. I saved lunch for you. Let me heat it up. Come eat."
Frank wasn't in the mood for lunch. He didn't stop walking, heading straight for the door. "I'll eat when I get back. No time now. I have to go see if my mom is dead!"
Hearing this, Sheila immediately put on a sad expression. She thought Frank was so filial, such a good son. She hurried after him. "Frank, is there anything I can do? Maybe I can make dinner for you to take over?"
"No..." Frank instinctively wanted to say no. But as the words reached his lips, a sudden inspiration struck. He stopped, turned to Sheila, and looked at her with utter sincerity. "Actually, there is something you can help with. My mom loves the food from that Dex Restaurant. Last night she told me she wanted me to buy her a meal from there. She said if she eats it, she can die without regrets. But I don't have enough money. Do you have any cash?"
Sheila didn't doubt him for a second. "I have a little. How much do you need?"
"One... two hundred dollars. That Dex Restaurant is really expensive. One meal is almost two hundred bucks." Seeing the money within reach, Frank was overjoyed inside, but his face remained solemn and sincere.
"Oh my, that is expensive. I don't have that much right now. I only have about seventy or eighty dollars..." Sheila said apologetically.
Getting seventy or eighty bucks was already exceeding Frank's expectations.
"I'll figure out the rest myself. Just give it to me quick. I have to hurry, or I might not see my mom for the last time!" Frank urged her, terrified she might change her mind and the money would fly away.
"Okay, coming right up!" Sheila was no match for Frank. Hearing this, she panicked and rushed to find her purse.
Moments later.
Frank got what he wanted. He shoved the money into his pocket, completely ignored Sheila's concerned words, and walked away briskly. His back turned to her with absolute heartlessness.
"Sucker!!" Walking out of the yard, Frank grinned brilliantly and laughed. As he headed toward Peg's place, he started calculating what kind of drugs he should buy.
---
Dex Restaurant.
Dexter received a call from Karen.
Karen sounded distressed. "Mr. King, there are a few tenants in the apartment building... no matter what I say, they won't pay rent. They even cursed at me. I don't really know what to do... Should I call the police?"
Hearing this, Dexter wasn't surprised at all.
Call the police?
The cops go over, maybe kick the scumbags out.
What are the odds those scumbags turn right around and come back for revenge? Spray paint the building, throw sht at the door, break windows?
Heh.
The odds were high.
After all, this was the South Side of Chicago, the home of the shameless. And these tenants were the shameless among the shameless!
Never overestimate the bottom line of trash.
Dexter thought for a moment.
It had been a while since he earned some "merit points"...
"Don't call the police yet. I'll go over tonight and talk to them. See if we can reach an agreement," Dexter replied with a smile.
"Okay. Thank you, Mr. King," Karen said, her tone laced with a hint of calculated sweetness.
Dexter smiled and shook his head. He didn't waste words and hung up.
Then.
Time to open a treasure chest.
Let's see what good items pop out. Time to clear out the trash and purify this shameless world a little bit.