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The Gallagher House, Upstairs.
After months apart, Fiona was starving for Steve. She rode him with abandon, her small but perky tits bouncing with every move.
Steve lay back with his hands behind his head, smiling up at Fiona, but his mind was wandering. It was strange.
Whether it was looks, body, or just how tight things were down there, Estefania had Fiona beat.
But he felt nothing for Estefania. With Fiona, he felt everything.
Weird, Steve thought.
Just then, his phone on the nightstand started buzzing. The name Esti lit up the screen.
Steve saw it. Fiona saw it too.
"Esti" was obviously a girl's name.
Fiona sensed something was off. Her expression shifted, and she abruptly stopped moving, staring at Steve, waiting for an explanation.
When it came to lying, Steve was in the same league as Fiona. Noticing her stare, he smiled without batting an eye. "Don't stop. Keep going."
Fiona didn't move. "Aren't you going to get that?"
Steve laughed. "No need. It's work. I'll call her back when we're done."
Fiona looked skeptical. "A woman?"
Steve nodded. "Yeah. A woman who's really good at picking locks. I've been working with her for the last few months."
"Did you sleep with her?" Fiona asked.
"Occasionally. Just for fun," Steve replied crisply, without a second of hesitation.
His blunt honesty sold it. Fiona bought it.
She started moving again. "If you sleep with her again, let me know," she said between breaths.
Steve smiled. "Deal."
One minute, two minutes...
Around the four-minute mark.
Steve, who wasn't exactly an endurance athlete in this department, signaled the end of the battle.
It was summer, and the room had no AC.
They lay there for a while, dripping with sweat, before finally getting up.
Since she had a shift that night, Fiona headed into the bathroom to shower.
Steve went straight downstairs, planning to brew a pot of coffee.
Downstairs, Living Room.
Debbie was currently functioning as a human crutch, slowly helping Frank shuffle toward the first-floor bathroom. When she saw Steve come down, she frowned and gave a cold greeting. "Steve."
Steve finally noticed something was wrong with Frank. He stopped, looking confused. "Debbie, what's up with Frank?"
"I'm sick. Not many days left to live," Frank answered for himself.
Frank wasn't exactly a chatty guy unless he wanted something.
"Help me buy some meds. Let me live out my final days in a little comfort," Frank added immediately.
Steve grinned instantly. "Sorry, can't help you."
Dropping that line, Steve walked straight toward the kitchen.
Naturally, faced with rejection and unable to get what he wanted, Frank immediately started cursing. "Fk you! You screw my daughter, you think you don't have to pay for it?..."
It was a fascinating phenomenon.
throughout the entire show, Frank, Lip, and Fiona were identical in this regard.
They ask for help. You say you can't help. They immediately flip the switch and attack you.
Tsk, tsk.
You couldn't simply describe this way of life as "shameless."
Heh. Classic Gallagher.
---
Steve completely ignored the scumbag's tirade. He kept his cool, pretended he heard nothing, walked into the kitchen, and started the coffee maker.
Frank cursed until he ran out of breath, then continued his slow shuffle to the bathroom.
Ten minutes flew by.
Fiona finished her shower, got dressed, and came downstairs. That was when she finally noticed Frank sitting on the couch looking like death warmed over, and Debbie looking worried sick.
Living in this house, Fiona was all too familiar with this kind of scene. She immediately knew something was off and frowned. "Debbie, what's happening?"
Seeing Fiona, Debbie finally cracked. Her voice trembled with tears as she explained the situation. "Fiona, Dad's dying. He doesn't have many days left..."
Once Debbie started, she couldn't stop. She spilled everything that had happened since Frank came back that morning.
Frank tried to stop Debbie from mentioning the drug run, but he failed.
Consequently.
With absolute justification, Fiona nearly exploded. She stormed right up to Frank and screamed, "You asked Debbie to go buy you drugs?! Are you fking kidding me?!"
Faced with Fiona's rage, Frank was a little intimidated. Deep down, he did actually feel a tiny bit of guilt toward her.
But that guilt was minuscule, and it depended on what it was being weighed against.
Compared to drugs and weed? That guilt was nothing.
Frank shook his head nonchalantly, spewing his usual twisted logic. "Debbie has to grow up sometime. She's going to experience this stuff sooner or later. Besides, look at her, she's standing right there, she's fine. What are you screaming about?"
As he spoke, Frank put on a show of coughing violently, acting weak.
Fiona was livid, grinding her teeth in hatred. "Fk you! Don't give me that bullshit! If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will kill you!"
Frank smiled subtly. He knew Fiona was all bark and no bite. She didn't have the guts. He ignored her, fished a pill out of his pocket, and swallowed it.
Fiona was fuming, steam practically coming out of her ears. She didn't want to look at him for another second. She turned to Debbie. "Debbie, let's go. Ignore him. He's faking it. He's not gonna die."
Debbie was worried sick and frantic. "Fiona, no, Dad's really sick. He can't even walk..."
"He is faking it!" Fiona emphasized with absolute certainty. "Trust me, he's not going to die!"
Debbie wanted to cry.
Frank spoke up then. "Fiona, you're wrong. I really am dying. Everything hurts. But... you should be happy, right? This is the result you wanted to see. Your wish is finally coming true."
Thump.
The words hit their mark.
Fiona froze for a second.
When had Frank ever been this normal? When had he ever spoken with such a calm demeanor?
And looking at his ugly, aged face... he really did look haggard. He was pale as a ghost.
Fiona believed Frank was sick...
But dying?
In that moment, her unwavering certainty from seconds ago began to waver.
Because of that hesitation...
Heh. Family, right? It's so important.
Fiona opened her mouth and asked, against her better judgment, "What kind of sickness?"
Frank sighed. "I don't know. The ambulance took me to the hospital last night. The doctors ran tests for hours but couldn't figure it out. They just told me I'm dying."
Fiona started to believe him. She was speechless.
In the kitchen.
Holding a cup of coffee, Steve had been watching the whole drama unfold. Seeing this, he couldn't help but smile to himself.
If this piece of trash actually dies, the Gallagher house might get a little better. Fiona might actually get a little better.
Steve thought about it with genuine anticipation.