The Gallagher House.
Fiona was in her room, eye mask on, earplugs in, sleeping like the dead as usual.
Peggy and a gloomy-faced Debbie were downstairs watching TV... well, mostly Peggy was watching. Debbie's mind was elsewhere.
Debbie stared at the empty house, feeling completely out of sorts.
Normally, today the place would be crawling with kids...
The thought of the daycare income vanishing hit her again... followed by the thought of that idiot Carl out there making money every single day...
Debbie felt miserable. She felt like the world was treating her unfairly.
Even a moron like Carl was living better than her!!!
Why him?!
It was funny, in a way. Even though they were brother and sister, throughout the entire saga, Debbie almost never showed a shred of sibling affection toward Carl. She mostly just looked at him with disdain.
The more she thought about it, the more upset and annoyed she got. She turned to Peggy, who was drinking a beer through a straw while watching TV. After a moment's thought, she asked, "Grandma, the daycare is gone. Without that money, winter is going to be really hard for us. I need to make money. Can you teach me?"
Peggy looked over at Debbie and smiled faintly. "What can you do?"
Debbie thought for a few seconds. "I can do chores, I can make sandwiches..."
Debbie rattled off a list of her skills as if they were precious treasures.
To be fair, for an eleven-year-old girl, being able to do all that was impressive.
The problem was, those skills didn't exactly translate into cash.
Peggy took two sips of her beer and suddenly had an idea. "How about this? This summer, you stick with me. Help me with some small things, and I'll pay you a wage."
It was bought affection. Maybe not sincere, but it was still a grandmother-granddaughter connection. Peggy only had a few months left to live; she wasn't picky. As long as someone was there, that was enough.
Debbie frowned, hesitating.
She didn't have much emotional attachment to this stranger of a grandmother.
Plus, in Debbie's eyes, Peggy was a scary criminal.
Debbie instinctively didn't want to get too close to Peggy, so she couldn't make up her mind.
Just then.
Frank walked in, looking filthy and smelling like a sewer. He saw Peggy and his face fell, looking utterly defeated.
If he had a choice, Frank wouldn't be here.
Unfortunately, he didn't. Last night, Peggy had ordered him to come back today to scrub her back.
Seeing Frank in this state, Peggy frowned in disgust. "Jesus! Did you just crawl out of a dumpster?"
Frank gave a weak, pathetic smile. "I slept next to a dumpster last night."
"Heh," Peggy sneered, too lazy to waste words on him. "Help me up! I've been waiting for you all morning!"
Frank didn't dare talk back. He obediently helped her up.
Fifteen minutes later.
They were in the second-floor bathroom.
Frank gritted his teeth, forced to scrub Peggy's back against his will.
---
The Convenience Store.
After eating lunch—and packing an extra order to go—Mickey walked in with his usual swagger. He went up to the counter where Ian was working, casually dropped the takeout box on the counter without a word about it, and just asked, "Dexter is throwing a party tomorrow. You going?"
Seeing the lunch in front of him, Ian smiled sweetly. He reached out, opened the box, and smelled the aroma. "Dexter called me. I'll be there."
"Cool," Mickey replied, feigning indifference. Then, he picked up a pack of gum next to the register, stared at it, and said "casually," "I just bought a brand new Mercedes."
Ian paused, then beamed with genuine happiness for him. "Congratulations. Let me take it for a spin sometime."
Mickey's brow twitched slightly. "Whatever. I'm out."
Dropping that line, Mickey turned and left.
Ian didn't stop him, just watched him leave with a happy grin.
Mickey got back in the car.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Carl turned his head to look at Ian inside the store. His little brain was once again filled with big questions.
Why did Mickey buy Ian lunch?
Are Mickey and Ian close?
Why was Ian smiling in that gross, mushy way?
Carl really couldn't understand it, so he just asked, "Mickey, what's the deal with you and Ian?"
Thump.
Hearing the question, Mickey's expression instantly became unnatural. He hurriedly denied it. "No deal! We got no relationship!"
"Then why did you bring him lunch?" Carl didn't notice Mickey's panic and asked again.
"None of your business. Quit yapping," Mickey snapped, stomping on the gas to get away from there.
Carl felt like something was off. It reminded him of plotlines he'd seen on TV.
Do these two have some dark secret? Carl asked himself silently.
About twenty minutes later.
Mickey and Carl met up with the lawyer and the real estate agent.
The location for the shooting range was basically set.
Now came the red tape—meeting all the government's ridiculous requirements... oh, and bribing the relevant officials.
A shooting range wasn't a normal business.
Without greasing palms and handing out gifts... trying to open one on the South Side was basically a fantasy.
Luckily, this wasn't a major issue.
After all, it was just money, and Dexter had plenty of it.
"I'll handle it immediately," the lawyer said with a smile.
Mickey hated bribery. He really wanted to just grab a gun and waste all those corrupt government bureaucrats. He nodded. "My work here is done for now. You guys handle the rest."
A short while later.
Mickey drove Carl back to the Gallagher house.
The workday was essentially over.
Carl hopped out of the car quickly. Because Peggy had promised to take him shopping, he was in high spirits. "See you tomorrow, Mickey."
Mickey didn't say anything, just nodded and drove off.
---
The Gallagher House.
Peggy was still bathing.
Carl walked into the house, glanced at the melancholy Debbie, and asked, "Where's Grandma?"
"Upstairs," Debbie replied grumpily. Just seeing Carl right now annoyed her.
Carl didn't notice her attitude, nor did he care to. He sprinted toward the stairs, shouting excitedly as he ran, "Grandma! I'm off work! Take me to buy the phone and clothes!"
As soon as those words came out.
In the living room, Debbie stiffened. She whipped her head around, eyes wide with disbelief, staring at Carl. "??????"
Carl is getting a phone? And clothes?
Who's paying?
Grandma??
WHY HIM!!!!
In that instant, a tidal wave of emotion crashed through Debbie's chest.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Debbie was going to lose it. She couldn't hold it back. She jumped up and chased Carl up the stairs.
Peggy called out from the bathroom, her tone surprisingly pleasant. "Carl, I'm taking a bath. Wait for me for a bit."
"Okay," Carl replied.
Frank, who was scrubbing Peggy's back, let his eyes dart around. He realized an opportunity had just presented itself.
Peggy had at least seventy-five grand!
Peggy seemed to really like Carl!
And Carl was stupid—easy to trick.
Ding.
Teaming up with Carl to scam some of Peggy's money? Easy peasy!
Plan formed, Frank didn't waste a second. He made up an excuse, got up, and hurried out to find Carl.