Yes, this is MickeyxOCxIan, featuring Cassandra Donovan, Kevin's head-case foster sister.
Rated M for explicit themes, including drug use, coarse language, and sexual content.
To The Night I Won't Remember
It wasn't easy peddling acid to the rich kids from the North side, especially at a football game, but it was possible. I had sixty bucks in my bra to prove that.
My best friend Ian Gallagher sat next to me on the bleachers, lighting up a cigarette. I had to blackmail the fucker to get him out here, but there was no one else I trusted to watch my back. Especially when I had over two hundred bucks worth of LSD and pot on me on high school property.
Ian was talking about his boss, Kash, but his eyes kept flickering to the field, lingering on the football players' asses much longer than necessary. I didn't blame him; when I wasn't scoping out potential customers or selling my merchandise, I found myself eye-fucking at the team, too.
I had always suspected that Ian was gay, but his sexual preferences weren't a big deal to me, and frankly, none of my business, so I never bothered to ask. If the kid liked sucking dick, who was I to judge?
I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a hypocrite.
In the five years I had known them, the Gallagher's had become a large part of my life. Living next door to them, with my brother Kevin, I was frequently pulled into their messes and given a mop to help them clean up.
I'm pretty sure that I'm more confused about Ian's sexuality than he is. Talk about giving mixed signals.
So many of the things he did were contradictory, like the night he slept innocently with me on my bed and then the next night slept on the floor. Or at that party last week when he kissed me, told me it didn't feel right, and then kissed me again.
Maybe he was just testing the waters, experimenting. Like my dad used to tell me before he cut my pills, you won't know if you like it unless you try it. So maybe Ian didn't know what he wanted. I did, and it was him.
I enjoyed spending time with the south side firecrotch. He knew how to party and he didn't give a fuck that I was crazy. Hell, I probably seemed normal to him. We had met in a group home, when he had to pull me off of my creepy caseworker. The old pedophile had grabbed my ass, so slammed his head against the table until Ian made me stop.
He helped me run away, and when I was caught and returned, he bought me cigarettes and shared his candy bar with me. We had been best friends ever since.
Ian was watching the sweaty jocks on the field, and I was watching him.
"You're still going to the party tonight, right?" Ian asked as he handed me the money from the dime bag he had sold.
Fuck, I had forgotten about that.
"Yeah, but I need to get rid of this shit quick, and then drop off Stan's dinner. North side kids don't party late." I said, spotting Mandy as she made her way towards us.
We hung around the parking lot afterwards, selling twice as much as we did during the game. Mandy had bribed her oldest brother with free drugs to drive us around.
"You sure it's safe to let him drive with a head full of acid?" I asked the skinny girl sitting next to me in the bed of her brother's piece of shit truck.
"Good question." Ian said, tightening his death grip on the side of the truck. Mandy was inspecting a crowbar she had pulled from the piles of junk surrounding us. "Does that look like blood to you?"
"Are you fucking kidding me, Mandy? If your psycho brother comes near me, I'll karate chop his fucking balls off."
She rolled her eyes, handing the crowbar to Ian.
"What's this for?" He asked, eyeing the metal tool anxiously.
"Cassie's beat up one Milkovich before, but you don't stand a fucking chance." Mandy muttered, glancing through the window at her oldest sibling. "After we stop by the bar, I'm going to sit up there and make sure this fuckwad doesn't get us pulled over."
"Who did you fight?" Ian suddenly asked, leaning forward to see me through Mandy, who had purposefully sat in between us.
"Mickey. He wouldn't hit her back, so she fucked him up." Mandy snickered.
"When did this happen?"
Goddamnit Mandy, way to keep a secret. Fucking bitch. I thought to myself as I lit my cigarette, wondering if I should tell him.
"Last summer, when you went to that ROTC camp. It's kind of a long story, I'll tell you later," I muttered, shooting a glare at Mandy. She just grinned, shrugging her shoulders.
Mandy knew what she wanted, too. She had been practically throwing herself at Ian all week since I had introduced them. But I had no excuse to be jealous, because Mandy was doing what I could not. She was confident, skilled at manipulating people, and had no qualms against it. And I may have told her that I wasn't interested in Ian.
She was a fucking lunatic, the poster-child for Daddy Issues, and safer to have on your side in a fight.
We stopped to get cheeseburgers for Stan, and then headed to the Alibi Room.
I could hear Stan yelling from the bottom of the staircase behind the bar, so I headed up and let myself in with my key.
My former foster-father, Stan, was pissing in the oven and ranting about Communists. His favorite topic to bitch about.
Kevin had been in three foster homes with me, and had always looked out for me. That's how I came to live with Stan above the Alibi Room; Kevin had talked to my case worker and pulled me from the group home. I had lived with Stan for years, but once his health started declining and he tried to catch me on fire as I slept, Kev and Veronica agreed to let me live with them.
I was used to the kind of shit Stan pulled, but it still pissed me off because I knew I would be the one cleaning up his piss.
"What the fuck, Stan!" I yelled, throwing his Reuben sandwich on the counter. I kicked the oven door shut as I made my way to the bathroom.
"That damn commie wants to protest my bar, I'll piss in his fuckin' mouth." He muttered, snatching the bag.
"Where's the booze? I ordered this pizza three goddamn hours ago, and you didn't even bring me my fuckin' beer. "
I rolled my dark green eyes as I checked my reflection in Stan's grimy mirror.
I was a little on the short side, with wide hips and overdeveloped breasts. My naturally blonde hair was dyed a dark purple, and sat in a neat braid on my chest so the wind wouldn't fuck it up. I was wearing my favorite well-worn leather jacket, a black tank-top, and Mandy's too-tight grey jeans. My flask was peeking out from the top of my boots, so I bent down and tucked it back in place.
I wasn't narcissistic, but I knew I was an attractive girl, and I looked at least two years older than I really was. Most kids had an identifier. Mandy was a slut, and I had big tits. Kids were assholes, but I'd much rather be remembered for my rack than the fact that I was easy.
I hopped in the back and pulled the plastic bag from my inner coat pocket, offering Ian a hit.
We had dropped three hits of acid by the time we reached the party, and Mandy quickly caught up as we ditched her brother and headed inside.
I wasn't even at the party for five minutes when I caught a guy trying to discreetly slip something into my drink. I grabbed the pill from his hand,inspecting it.
"It's gonna take a lot more than a roofie to fuck me up." I said, slipping the drug into my beer, knocking it back with speed that was acquired from years of drinking.
Ian had seen the entire thing, and practically threw the loser out of the front door. I hopped down the porch steps and dug through they guy's pockets as he struggled to sit up. After successfully robbing the kid of his money, drugs, and a lollipop I found in his pocket, I returned to the party.
"I can't believe you drugged yourself. Are you doing to date rape yourself, too?" Ian asked with a snicker, slipping his hand around my back to steady me as I stumbled up the steps.
Sometime later, Mandy was puking in the bathroom and Ian and I were smoking a joint by the door, waiting for our inebriated friend. Occasionally, someone would approach us and I'd sell them some of my homegrown greens, but the party was dying down.
It wasn't even one yet. Fucking rich kids.
"So, you never told me why you fought Mickey…" Ian spoke up, holding the joint until I looked up at him. He handed it to me and frowned, "Or why you never told me some guy put his hands on you."
I didn't speak for a while, not wanting to dredge up those memories. Finally, I passed him the joint and told him.
"Mickey gave me an STD."
"What?!"
"I said, Mickey gave me-" I began, but Ian cut me off quickly, an edge to his tone that I wanted to believe was jealousy, but sounded like disgust.
"You gave your virginity to dirty Mickey Milkovich?"
"Yeah, don't make a big deal about this," I muttered, feeling embarrassed. "Last summer, I fucked around with Mickey and got chlamydia. He told me he wasn't fucking anyone else, and I believed him. So when I found out I had it, I kicked his ass and stole this jacket."
"Well, it is a pretty bad ass jacket." Ian said with a grin.
