You couldn't be soft living on the south side of Chicago. They were bred and born with guns in their hands and usually drugs in their blood. If you could go your entire school career without getting into any serious tussles or trouble with the law, it was because you flew under the radar; you were lucky. Mickey had always wondered how Ian Gallagher had stayed so soft.
When Debbie burst through the door of the Kash' n' Grab, Mickey nearly scoffed. She was clearly upset: someone had hurt Debbie Gallagher, and she went to her marshmallow softie brother. He thought she probably should have gone to Lip or even the little psycho. When Ian's eyes narrowed in anger, Mickey had to give him props. He looked adequately pissed off.
"What's this kid's name?" He asked Debbie.
Mickey thought he was just going through the motions; what was docile little Ian Gallagher going to do.
"Randy Perez." Her tears were fat and rolled down to her chin.
"Head home; we'll talk about it later." Ian shooed her out the door.
Mickey forgot about it since Ian went back to work without a word. If it were his sister, he would have left immediately, and the fucker would already be dead in a ditch somewhere. When they closed up the shop, Mickey followed Ian out the door making sure no one was around.
He grabbed Ian's arm, making him pause. "Want to go by the dugout?"
"Sure. Got some shit to take care of, then we can head out. Want to walk with me?"
Mickey shrugged; why not. His only plans were to have Ian get on him in the Dugouts. They walked a few blocks before stopping at a shitty house with a shitty mailbox, that said, Perez. Ian noticed the burn barrel in the front yard and a water hose around the back; he turned on the spigot and dropped the hose in the ash-filled barrel, letting it fill to the brim. He smiled at Mickey's confusion.
"I'm going to let this fill up, then it should be about ten more minutes."
Mickey shrugged. "Got nowhere to be, fire crotch. Just not sure what this is." He looked in the big drum and frowned. "That water is disgusting."
"When's your dad get out?" Ian looked back to the house, making sure no one was teaching.
"Next month sometime. As long as he doesn't get into any trouble. Hopefully, he'll stab someone, and they'll keep him another month."
Ian nodded. "Sure. I keep hoping Frank will od or someone will kill him, but no such luck."
Mickey raised an eyebrow. "He been around much?"
"Nah, he's due to make his rounds, maybe bust my nose or ribs again. We'll see." Mickey looked at him confused; he wasn't sure if Ian was kidding or not. "This is ready."
They walked up the door, and Ian put on his most charming smile. "Hey, Mrs. Perez, is Randy here?"
She smiled and called for Randy. When he made it down the stairs, Mickey could see he was confused and slightly scared. He didn't know if he was the reason for the fear, but surely it wasn't Ian. He was standing in the doorway, and his mom headed back in the house. Ian smiled, but it wasn't pleasant; Mickey thought he looked deranged.
"Randy, my man. Let's take a walk."
Randy looked back, hoping his mom would come to the rescue. When he saw she was nowhere to be seen, he thought about running, but Ian gave him a quick jab in the solar plexus. While he was bent over, gasping for breath, Ian grabbed a fistful of hair. He led him down the steps and looked back to Mickey. "Shut that door." Mickey thought it was kind of stupid. There was a window, and that boy's mother could look out at any point.
Mickey scoffed and pulled the door shut. When he turned around, he saw Ian leading Randy to the now full barrel.
"So, you grope eleven-year-old girls?" Ian asked, even though he knew the answer.
"No, it wasn't like that." Randy tried to pull away, but Ian held his head in the nearly black water.
Ian looked back at Mickey. "I got some money; want to go get some pizza before we go to the dugouts?"
"I could eat," Mickey said with his eyebrows drawn and his face scrunched.
"Me too." Ian pulled up a gasping Randy. "Want to try that again? You grope young girls?"
"No! It was a dare. She was supposed to like it." He was slipping around in the mud as Ian pushed his head underwater again. Mickey had to laugh; he was supposed to be the violent one, but maybe Ian was the calculated one. Perhaps he didn't do anything drastic without a plan.
"We should have got beer from the Kash' n' Grab."
Mickey laughed at the absurdity of it all; he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "We can stop by my place after pizza and get some."
When Randy stopped struggling, Ian pulled him up and slammed his fist into Randy's chest. "Oops." He let Randy fall to the ground. The mud coated his back and clung to his damp skin.
Randy spit up the water with a cough. Ian leaned over him with an impressive snarl. "You touch my sister again, and I will cut off your fingers one by one and make you eat them." He punched Randy one good time. "Understand?" when Randy nodded but didn't respond verbally, Ian hit him again with probably unnecessary force. "We clear?"
"Chrystal fucking clear."
Ian stood towering over him with a smile on his face. "Good." He walked away, shoving Mickey. "Let's go get some fucking food."
Randy could hear Mickey Milkovich laugh all the way down the road. Mickey couldn't believe he thought Ian was the soft Gallagher; he was genuinely shocked, but he knew he shouldn't be in reality. Who else would be tough enough to be fucking Mickey Fucking Milkovich? Ian Gallagher, apparently.