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Game Over
chapter three
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KENDALL RIKERSON. Ever since she had admitted to sleeping with him, Lip hadn't been able to get it out of his mind. Maybe that's why he fucked Karen Jackson that night outside in the van. Or maybe he did it because he didn't want to lose. Either way, he knew that he had to ignore it or he might go out of his freaking mind. "Burgers coming through!" Steve announced and excitement flooded the house. "Uh, Lip. Napkins." Phoebe walked around the chair happily, taking her seat. "Only ketchup," Steve read off and Debbie's hand raised high in the air. He passed her the box with a grin. "Extra onions, jalapeños." Veronica walked through the foyer, announcing her arrival.
"Me!" she hummed, taking the box from Steve's hand and stepping over the back of the couch. "Thank you. Make room." Carl took the spot beside Veronica, Ian took the chair beside Phoebe, and Debbie sat on the floor. In walked Lip with a handful of napkins and two boxes. "Your burger with extra pickles and mayo," he announced, passing the box to the girl in his seat. "Why, thank you," she joked. He sat beside her, his arm instinctively moving around her waist. Veronica watched as the two got comfortable, Phoebe's legs draping over Lip's lap and both of their boxes balancing on her lap. "—on the spot called Mr. Magoo, the sacred family fishing grounds that paid off last season. But now... It's a bust."
Phoebe peeled open her burger happily. Pickle juice filled the paper holding it together and spilled against her cheeks as soon as she took her first bite. Pulling back with a mouth full, ketchup and mustard stained the ends of her lips and pickle juice dripped down her chin. "We got no crab on board. I heard, "Don't go to Magoo, because there's hundreds there..." Lip rested his hand over her knee. He could hardly pay attention to the television when he had the Phoebe Lim sitting beside him. He smiled, silently, as he watched her eat away at the burger that was almost bigger than her hands. Without hesitation, he used his finger to wipe away the condiments staining her face and slipped that same finger between his own.
She glanced over at him in disgust, nudging him in his ribs. Her nose scrunched, which he had figured out over the years they knew each other meant she was silently calling him a weirdo. He grinned in return, laying the palm of his hand over her shoulder. She reached into her box and picked up a french fry. Lip had salted them before bringing them, though she was oblivious to that fact. She was basically oblivious to the fact he knew almost everything about her. After shoving her first fry in her mouth, she held the second out to the boy beside her. He took it happily, taking it from her fingers with his teeth.
It was the fact this had become so routine. They were comfortable with one another. They felt at home with the other, no matter where they were physically. Being with Lip, it made Phoebe feel invincible. She felt that she could fly as long as Lip believed it. Being with Phoebe, Lip felt stabilized. Though she had her own moments of dysfunction, it never felt like it was out of place. He knew what he was doing, where he was, as long as he was with her, he felt like he was on the right path. He looked over at the girl entranced by the show on the TV. He ran his thumb over her knee, brushing over the rough fabric of her jeans.
Feeling a bit like a weirdo, he forced himself to turn toward the TV. He scanned over the room, appreciating the fact he could have this moment with his siblings. With the natural chaos of their house, moments like this were usually seldom and fleeting. He looked to Fiona, sitting between two people she had placed into her life on a pedestal. He looked to Carl and Debbie, both eating away at their meals without a care in the world. They felt normal, normal enough to watch TV without worrying about whether or not it'll shut off in the middle of their program. Then, he looked to Ian. Despite what had happened the other night, he didn't hate Ian or who he was. He was just worried.
He sighed and rested his head against hers. She didn't move, choosing to not question his overly affectionate actions at that time, or any time. She wasn't one to make him feel uncomfortable or uneasy. After a while, everyone finished their food and was still watching the same program. Phoebe and Lip had gotten even more comfortable, so comfortable she could feel her eyes slowly closing. Her hand rested against his stomach, legs curled up to herself. His hands remained touching her, like he needed to make sure she was still there. "We've been fishing for thirty six hours now and we haven't made a dime yet. We're getting, like, one hundred fifty crabs and only seven kilos a pot."
The door slamming tore the family away from their show. Each head turned to the front door where Frank walked in, face and chest covered in blood. "Woah," Steve exclaimed, "you okay, Frank?" Phoebe sat up in surprise. It was older, the blood. It was clotted around his nostrils. Frank didn't answer, instead throwing his jacket onto the staircase. "Hey," Ian spoke up, standing from his seat. He approached his father with distaste. "That my shirt?" He looked indifferent. He was probably coming down from a bender. No one looked too worried about him, anyway. "Yeah," Frank finally answered.
Frank changed. Both Phoebe and Lip sat up in their spot upon noticing it. Ian flinched, backing away as Frank stalked toward him. "Uh, I'm just asking," he stated to try and clear the growing tension within the room. What happened next shocked everyone in the room. Lip jumped, elbowing Phoebe right in her chest. Fiona gasped, and Steve leapt from his spot. Frank had thrown his head into Ian, promptly busting his nose and spraying blood everywhere. Ian fell back onto the coffee table, grunting at the pain in his face and his back. Chaos ensued. "Guy in the bar said pass it on!" Frank shouted at his boy. Phoebe knelt beside Ian, worry etched on her face.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?" Steve asked the man, shoving him hard against his chest. Ian looked over to Phoebe with glossy eyes. She felt her heart clench. "Holy Christmas," she whispered. Veronica grabbed Carl, holding him close. "You're drunk, Frank. You're drunk." Frank scoffed. "This is drunk?" he asked incredulously. Phoebe helped Ian stand up by grabbing his waist. "You okay?" she asked. The blood dribbling down his chin answered her question, however, and she didn't like it. "Lip, get a wet rag, okay?" she told the older brother, but he was so distraught by everything going on, he didn't know what to focus on. "This isn't drunk. You wanna see drunk?"
"Don't do this to your kids, Frank." Phoebe bunched up some left over napkins and pressed them under his nose. Ian flinched. "Jesus, Pheebs. Be softer," he begged of her, creating a steady flow of guilt filling her up. "I'm sorry," she replied. She didn't even notice the fact his blood was now staining her fingers. "What are you, a tough guy, Steve? You think you're a fucking tough guy?" Everything was only getting louder. Phoebe closed her eyes for a moment. "Because you look like a premenstrual Filipino! Sorry, Lip's friend."
As Steve lurched toward Frank, Fiona finally placed herself between them. "Steve, go. Get out," she spat angrily. "Hey, just go." Phoebe glanced toward Lip, who had found himself standing protectively beside her once Frank placed her in the conversation. His hands sat at his sides, rolled into tight fists. "He's shitting his pants," Frank taunted. "Pussy." Steve scoffed. "You're pathetic, Frank!" Ian's eyes finally released the pent up tears, letting them slide down his freckled face. "Let's go upstairs, okay? I'll get a wet rag." He nodded slowly, placing his hand over Phoebe's. "I got it," he told her, his voice muffled from the pressure of the napkins.
"Come on. Don't go. Come on!" Frank goaded. He wanted to start a fight. Phoebe lead Ian toward the stairs, ignoring the vulgar insults flying from their semi-intoxicated father. "Pheebs," Lip called out, only to be ignored. "It's a bloody nose," Frank sighed. "Didn't anyone notice I was bleeding?" Lip sighed. Then, they were gone. Phoebe led Ian into the bathroom and placed him on the edge of the bathtub. She took one of the cleanest looking rags and ran it under cool water. "Don't tilt your head too far back or you'll choke on the blood," she told him. His eyes widened. "Is that real?" he asked, voice trembling.
He watched as she smiled, wringing out the rag until most of the water was squeezed out. "I don't know," she admitted. "My mom always told me that when I had nosebleeds. She would say that if I leaned back too far, it would go back up my nose and into my throat." His brows furrowed. Though she seemed perfectly normal, it never failed to shock the siblings how terrible her parents could be. Her mother, a nasty woman who prides herself on achievements Phoebe made academically. But if you asked her a simple question, like when Phoebe's birthday was, she couldn't tell you. And her father... he was a business man. Sort of.
"Here," she breathed out. Gently, she peeled the paper napkins from his face, a fresh stream of blood coating his upper lip the moment the pressure vanished. Just as gentle, she placed the damp rag under his nose. "He's such an asshole," Ian sighed. His posture slouched. He could hardly look anywhere but his shoes. When Frank got like this, it affected everyone. Phoebe pressed her palm against his cheek, her thumb caressing his freckled skin. His eyes flickered to her face where a warm, caring smile could be found. "Yeah," she exhaled, "but at least now it's over and we can move on." He stared back at the older girl. He didn't understand why she chose them. He didn't get why she chose to stay. "You could be anywhere else but here. Why are you?"
She ruffled his ginger hair before taking a seat on the edge of the tub next to him. Softly, she sighed. "Well... You guys are my family," she stated simply, followed by an embarrassed snort. "Like, I've always dreamed of having this big family, and when I met you guys... it felt like I was home. I love you guys." Ian smirked. "Like you love Lip?" A gasp lodged itself into Phoebe's throat. If anyone were to notice, she did expect it to be Ian. "You little—" She slapped his arm with a slight laugh, causing him to defensively put his arms up. "I do," she laughed out. "I do love Lip. He's my... he's my best friend."
He decided not to press further, instead laughing along with her. Because he knew, and he knew she knew that he knew. However crazy that sounds. The only thing they didn't know was that Lip was standing just outside in the hallway, listening in.
—
She thought she had gotten used to the panicked calls, or the utter batshit crazy stuff the Gallaghers could offer. And yet the moment Lip called her from Kevin's cellphone, asking her to come because he needed her, she felt her whole body wither uncomfortably. She dropped everything and ran right over. The siblings were all sitting in the living room. Debbie was chewing on her fingernails, panicked out of her mind. "I'm here," she breathed out the moment she stepped into the house. Fiona looked to her and released a sigh of relief, like her final child was home.
"What's going on?" she asked. Dropping her bag by the door, she sped over to where Lip sat on the couch. He reached for her almost instantly, taking her by the wrist and pulling her over the back of the couch. "No one's seen Frank since last night," Ian told her. Confused, Phoebe shook her head lightly. "It's the last Friday of the month," Lip reminded her under his breath. Realization dawned on her just then. She turned toward her friend in surprise. "Have you filed a missing person's report? I know they say to wait twenty four hours, but that's just bullshit the cops say because they don't want to look incompetent —" Lip laced his fingers with hers, his calloused palm grazing her soft one.
She turned toward him curiously. "We've called everyone we know, he knows," he spoke. She flinched as his eyes fell on her, lashes sweeping slowly against his cheeks. There was nothing more they could do, until they all noticed the way Debbie's face paled. Fear completely captured her in its hold, putting her through the wringer. "Hey," Fiona spoke gently, moving in front of the youngest Gallagher girl. "Hey. Don't worry, Debs. We're gonna find him." Lip squeezed Phoebe's hand. Despite how they talked to him, they still loved Frank. He was their father, after all.
Fiona stood up and looked over the people in her house. "We split up," she stated, hands carding against her hips. "All the regular spots, okay? Go." Lip and Ian stood first, followed by Phoebe. His hand slipped from hers as he walked around the couch toward the front door. "Hey, Pheebs." She turned to face Fiona, eyebrows raised. "Thanks for coming." She wasted no time in hugging Fiona. It lasted only a few seconds, which probably made the action more awkward than it should have been, but Phoebe didn't want to waste any time. After departing, she hopped over the couch and headed straight for the door.
"Who are you searching with?" Lip asked once she landed at the foot of the porch. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, zipping it up the front. "You? Why?" She looked between Lip and Ian in confusion. He nodded his head silently. "Okay," he sighed out. "Come on." His steps were rushed and Phoebe jogged to keep up. Though his legs weren't much longer than hers, he still had stride. Their breaths could be seen in front of them. Snow even covered the ground. Each step they took, it crunched, which Phoebe was kind of grateful for. It filled the uncomfortable silence they walked in.
After about ten minutes of searching and calling for Frank, Lip finally struck up a conversation. "We're tied, now," he stated. His hands were deep in his pockets, eyes scanning everywhere in the opposite direction of Phoebe. Hearing that caused her stomach to tighten in anticipation. "Oh, yeah?" she asked, trying to fake nonchalance in her tone, but it sounded a little snobby. She mentally facepalmed herself with a chair. "Yeah. Karen Jackson." She nodded. Karen Jackson was a name a lot of people knew. She was sort of like Phoebe in the way of confidence. She knew who she was sexually and wasn't afraid to use it, even with her religious father being around.
"Nice," she forcibly exclaimed. "She's pretty." Lip replied with a hum of agreement. He didn't particularly like how she was reacting. Couldn't she show some discomfort instead of acting like Ian would? But she was his best friend. He told her the same night he got his first hand job about how hard he creamed into his underwear. When he first went down on a girl, he basically demonstrated on his pillow to her while she ate a hot pocket. When she lost her virginity, he was the first person to know. Because they're best friends; they're family. And yet he still felt that sick twinge of anger just thinking about her being with another person.
"You two would make cute, blonde hair and blue eyed babies," she commented. Lip scoffed incredulously. "Are you really still on the whole baby thing?" She glanced toward him in confusion. "Kind of. I am worried about having an ugly baby though." Lip shook his head. Finally, he looked over to her. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, only small wisps of hair framing her round face. Her cheeks were red from the cold air, nose even brighter. "Better hope its a boy, then. Most boys look like their moms." It was a compliment, in its own way. It was subtle, he hoped.
Awkwardly, Phoebe cleared her throat. There were so many questions in her head. Why Karen? How was it? Did he... like her? She could barely focus on the task at hand now that he sprung that information on her. "Fuck," Lip cursed. "Hey! You seen Frank?" The man standing a few feet ahead of them, digging into the trash cans set out by the road, looked to the two approaching him. Her shook his head. Phoebe scowled. How could Frank just disappear? He had nowhere to go but home, The Alibi, and the benches. Most people would turn him away the moment he stepped in front of them. "Maybe he's at the shelter," Phoebe suggested. "I know he used to steal blankets from there."
And hours passed by. They checked every spot they knew Frank traveled to, but no one had seen him. They even hit up the laundromat and checked every washer and dryer there for the disheveled man. Their very last hope was The Alibi and Kevin. Lip pulled open the door and held it there for Phoebe to enter. She walked in and sighed at the heated air. "My prodigy and her lap dog," Kevin teased. Lip, however, was anything but happy. He threw Kevin's cellphone across the counter. "Shove your phone up your ass. No more freebies from me like your taxes because you can't understand the instructions," Lip spat.
Kevin raised his hands in surprise. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he stuttered. "Hey, take it easy. Take it easy, alright?" Phoebe looked between the two men before rolling her eyes. "We just need to know when you saw Frank last, okay?" she explained. Her body was starting to sweat under all of her layers just standing there. Kevin scoffed. "Look, Frank isn't far, okay? He never goes far. Right?" Lip licked his lips before poking his tongue into his cheek. It was a tick. He was growing tired of this game. "Yeah, I know that, Kevin. But it's the last Friday." Phoebe drew in a breath before unzipping her jacket.
"Last Friday? So what?" Kevin seemed genuinely confused. His hands took purchase on his hips, moving all of his weight onto one side. Phoebe stripped off her jacket and tied it around her waist. "It's the day he gets his disability check," she clarified. It was as if a light bulb went off in Kevin's head. "Oh, Jesus," he blurted. "Fuck me. Hey, Jess." His other bartender came around the curve, cleaning a glass. "Uh, Frank Gallagher, did he leave with anybody after we kicked him out last night?" Lip was getting more and more irritated. His eyes couldn't focus. His hands were twitching at his sides.
"Name me one person who would be caught dead with him in that condition." Phoebe's eyes narrowed into a glare. "You know, he may be a drunk, but this is pretty serious," she snapped, startling both Lip and Kevin at her side. Quickly, Kevin apologized for her outburst and turned her to face him. "Cool it, kiddo. Alright?" If he wouldn't have been so pissed himself, Lip might have felt proud. "Steve was definitely gone by then, though, so Frank wasn't with him." Both Lip and Phoebe immediately turned to look at one another. "Hey, anybody seen Frank the Plank?"
"Steve?" Phoebe repeated. "Which Steve?" Lip asked. Kevin's head tilted in confusion. How many Steve's could there be? "You know, "Steve" Steve. Fiona's new Steve." Phoebe shook her head in disbelief. "Wait, why was he here?" she asked. Kevin's shoulders lifted into a shrug. "Talking to Frank. Friendly enough. It was hours before closing," he explained. Lip sighed. That sure was news to them, especially after the two had tried to fight hours before. Lip didn't answer, only turned toward the door. "Thanks, Kev," Phoebe sighed. He nodded at her in response. "Call me if you find him, okay? Or if you need anything."
As she was welcomed back into the frozen tundra that was Chicago, she noticed Lip was a few feet ahead. His tracks were deep, like he had been stomping away. "Lip?" she called out as she untied her jacket arms from around her waist. He didn't answer. He was deep in his own thoughts. Who the fuck did Steve think he was?
from rumi . . .
i would sell my soul to have my
own personal lip gallagher. also,
can we just appreciate the relationship
between pheebs and the family??
don't forget to vote + comment!