Keeping his gaze fixed on the convenience store across the street, Mickey Milkovich took a deep drag off his cigarette.
He and his brothers, Iggy and Colin, had been staking the Kash and Grab for nearly two hours, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. Their father had ordered the brothers to do the job, and even though it weighed on Mickey's conscience, there was no way around it but to get it done. If their father wanted something executed, they made it happen with no questions asked, or they risked facing their father's unrelenting wrath.
Mickey didn't know much about Ian Gallagher; all he knew was that the kid was sixteen with freckles and red hair, and Ian's dad Frank owed his dad Terry a shitload of money. Frank had skirted around the issue for months, always finding typical and nonsensical excuses to get out of paying, and Terry was sick of playing Gallagher's games.
It was time to collect.
"Come on, asshole, let's do this! It's fuckin' cold out here! I'm freezin' my nuts off," Iggy whined from behind Mickey, his breath coming out in puffs in the frigid air. "Can't we go in, grab the little shit, and call it a night?"
"Hold your fuckin' horses," Mickey spat. "I already told you, we can't go in for the kid while towelhead's in the way. We gotta wait for the kid to leave, so we can catch him when he's alone."
"Why can't we go in, knock towelhead the fuck out, and then snatch the little shit?" Iggy groused. "It could be hours before he leaves!"
"Security cameras, fuckhead! We can't risk it," Mickey exclaimed. "Chill the fuck out, alright? You're givin' me a goddamn headache."
Iggy sucked his teeth and huddled deeper into his coat. "I don't get this shit, anyway. Why are we goin' after the dude's kid? Why not just go after Frank?"
"Because no one gives a shit about Frank, that's why. If we kidnap Frank, no one will bat an eyelash, let alone give us the money," Mickey snapped before sighing and glancing toward the store. He chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated his next move. "Fuck it, wait here. I'm gonna go inside and scope shit out. Plus, I need alcohol in my system if I'm gonna have to put up with you morons for much longer."
Despite his brothers' protests, Mickey left his crouched position behind the dumpster and swaggered across the street, eager to get inside the warm store to thaw out a bit. He flicked his cigarette away, opened the door, and narrowly avoided running into a little old lady on her way out.
"Watch where the fuck you're going!"
The woman's kind smile faded as she clutched her purse to her chest and hurried past him.
After sneering at the woman's back, Mickey entered the shabby store and glanced around. The place was empty, and no one was behind the counter. He took advantage of the opportunity and headed for the drink coolers, shoving a 40oz bottle of Old Style inside his coat and a handful of Slim Jims into his pocket. He normally robbed the Get & Go on 31st and Emerald. As he browsed the chip section in search of BBQ Pringles to swipe, he thought maybe the Kash and Grab could be his new spot.
The security was absolute shit.
"You gonna pay for that?"
Mickey turned and faced his target. Sure enough, Ian Gallagher was as Terry had described. He was skinny, with a fuckload of freckles and stupid red hair. Mickey had expected someone who looked like the character from MAD Magazine or some shit; the kid wasn't that.
"The fuck're you gonna do if I say no, tough guy?"
"I'll call the cops," Ian said while crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Mickey scoffed and eyed Ian up from head to toe, secretly admiring his take-no-shit attitude. He also had a feeling he'd met the asshole before, but he couldn't recall when or where.
Ian continued to look Mickey up and down, too, his eyes inevitably lingering on Mickey's knuckle tattoos. "You're Mickey Milkovich, aren't you?"
"The fuck's it to you?" Mickey asked, taken aback by the question.
Ian uncrossed his arms, his demeanor softening even under Mickey's unnerving scrutiny. He shrugged before saying, "Just wondering. We've lived in the same neighborhood our whole lives, and you're two grades higher than me at school. Or you were, but didn't you flunk a buncha times?"
"Fuck you," Mickey retorted, not liking that the shithead had the upper hand and knew so much about him; the whole kidnapping thing would go smoother if the kid didn't know who he was.
"We were also on the same little league team when we were kids," Ian continued with an endearing smirk before laughing. "I remember when you whipped your dick out and pissed on first base. It was fuckin' badass."
Suddenly, memories of a freckle-faced kid with goofy hair wearing a number 10 jersey playing second base popped into Mickey's head. "What-the-fuck-ever, man," he scoffed before moving toward the door, eager to escape those green eyes and that cocky smirk. Gallagher had grown up; that was for fucking sure.
"So, are you gonna pay for that beer or what?"
"Fuck off," Mickey spat as he shoved his way past Ian and out the door, throwing up his middle finger as a parting gift.
"I'll put it on your tab!" Ian called out before shaking his head with a resigned sigh and heading back behind the counter.
"Who was that?" Kash asked when he appeared from the back of the store, looking flustered and disheveled as he refastened his belt.
"No one important," Ian muttered as he placed a five-dollar bill in the cash register to cover the stolen beer. "Just some dumb thug."
Outside, Mickey crossed the nearly deserted street and crouched behind the dumpster. His brothers gave him matching glares. "The fuck're you lookin' at?" he snapped, still bristling from his interaction with the irritating redhead.
"So?" Colin asked. "You gonna tell us what happened in there?"
"The kid's a fuckin' smart ass, and he's ugly as shit. That's what happened," Mickey said as he opened the stolen beer and took a long chug to calm his jittery nerves.
Almost an hour later, Mickey was going out of his mind listening to his brothers' inane nonsense. They took turns telling dirty jokes to pass the time, and Mickey was seconds away from snapping. The situation would be a lot more bearable if they'd shut their mouths; he couldn't even think straight with their constant babbling.
He hoped Gallagher appeared soon; he didn't know how much longer he could wait.
"How do you know you have a high sperm count?" Iggy asked Colin since Mickey had made it clear that he was in no mood to partake in their childish bullshit.
"I dunno," Colin mumbled around his cigarette, humoring his brother. "How?"
"She has to chew before she swallows," Iggy said with a shit-eating grin.
"That's fuckin' gross," Mickey snapped while giving Iggy a baleful look.
"Since when are you a prude, bitch?" Iggy sneered. "It was fuckin' funny!"
"Like fuck, it was funny," Mickey retorted before huddling deeper into his coat. "How about you shut the fuck up and let me think? I'm tired of hearin' you."
Before Iggy could respond, the door to the Kash and Grab opened.
The brothers straightened in anticipation, all joking aside. They watched with bated breath as the store owner locked the door and pulled the security gate closed before turning to face the kid. The pair said something incoherent to each other right before the man leaned in and kissed his employee tenderly on the mouth.
"The hell's this shit?" Colin exclaimed. "They're fuckin' gay for each other?"
"The fuck?" Iggy said. "Ain't towelhead, like, fifty?"
Mickey sat stewing as he watched Ian and the man kiss. He averted his eyes and swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to convince himself that the blatant display of gay affection made him uncomfortable. The only thing that truly made him feel sick was that the man was old enough to be Gallagher's dad. Fucking pedo.
"Fuckin' great! The kid is leavin' with him!" Colin hissed, pulling Mickey from his jumbled thoughts as the odd couple headed towards a white van parked at the curb. Mickey and his brothers hadn't seen that coming. "The fuck are we s'posed to do now?"
Mickey retrieved the gun from the waistband of his pants and turned to regard his brothers, his brows raised to show he meant business. "We gotta do this fast, then."
Within seconds, the Milkovich brothers shot up from their hiding spot, pulled their masks down over their faces, and confronted the kissing couple head-on.
"Get your fuckin' hands in the air!" Mickey shouted.
"Don't try anything stupid," Iggy warned as the startled store owner and employee spun to face them and shot their arms in the air, "Or you'll get a bullet to the fuckin' skull!"
"Get down, asshole!" Mickey ordered, kicking Kash hard in the back of the knee, causing the man to collapse to the ground with an agonizing yelp.
"Why did you do that?" Ian exclaimed, his arms still high in the air, though it was obvious he was resisting the powerful urge to bend down to help his boyfriend.
"Shut the fuck up!" Mickey yelled, aiming the gun at Ian as his brothers relentlessly kicked the shit out of the store owner. He grabbed a distressed-looking Ian roughly under the arm and dragged him away from the brutal display, feeling a strange obligation to spare Ian at least that much.
"Let's go, fuckheads!" he screamed at his brothers as he glanced around the dark street. He knew the road wouldn't stay deserted for long, so they needed to hurry shit up. As much as Mickey enjoyed watching Kash get the shit beat out of him, they had to leave. "We don't got all night!"
Iggy and Colin gave Kash a few rough kicks for good measure, leaving him bloodied, battered, and sputtering on the littered pavement.
Mickey shoved Ian, causing him to stumble and nearly fall before catching himself. "Walk," he ordered with the gun pressed into the small of Ian's back.
"Why're you doin' this?" Ian asked once they reached the Milkoviches' beat-up Chevelle. "Where are you takin' me? What did I do?"
"Shut up and get in the fuckin' car. Stop askin' questions," Mickey snapped before opening the door and forcibly pushing Ian inside. He got into the backseat with him while Iggy and Colin hopped in the front, both out of breath and running high on adrenaline.
They all pulled their masks off as the car started. They peeled out on screeching tires, leaving a thick cloud of exhaust fumes behind them.
Mickey's heart raced as he laughed wildly and excitedly slapped the back of Colin's seat. He glanced over at Ian, seeing the recognition dawning on Ian's face, his eyes questioning and sad.
"Mickey?" Ian asked, his voice small and almost childlike as he realized who his abductors were. "What's goin' on? Why are you doin' this?"
For a split second, Mickey froze and regretted all of it. He then forced himself to toughen up and dug the gun harder into Ian's side, getting his head back in the game. "What did I just say to you? Shut the fuck up, or I'll shut you up." He watched as Ian turned his head to look away, but not before catching the wetness rimming Ian's eyes.
Mickey had a sinking feeling the kidnapping wouldn't be as simple as he'd initially anticipated.