Part Three: Letting Go of Kash

I watch Frank browse items in the store. He grabs several items off different shelves and rambling about something, I think its immigrants today. Who the fuck even keeps track? I don't speak Frank.

The thing about Frank is that I never really gave a shit. He never felt like a father to me. He certainly wasn't a dad. He never felt like one, the same way Monica doesn't feel like a mom. Eventually, I stopped caring. They stopped pretending to be parents, and I stopped giving a shit.

"You have to pay for that, Frank," I say.

"You were always my least favorite, or maybe it was Lip. You were close," Frank says tossing me a twenty dollar bill. I keep his change. Linda doesn't care if I pocket his remaining change as long as the cost of the items goes in the register.

"Ian," says Kash. He puts his hand on my shoulder and begins to massage me. "Did Frank pay?" He starts to rub my arms in sensual circles.

"Yes," I say when he leans over to suck on my neck and my cheek.

"So, I know I'm not supposed to touch you until Linda's pregnant, but I can kiss you at least. She can't get mad about kissing," says Kash sliding his hand down my back and the other he runs through my hair.

Kash and I used to be really hot and heavy until this thing with Mickey happened. I don't know why but I can't picture myself with Kash anymore. He's too old for me and he's married. Sure it's nice to fuck him and stuff, but I don't feel connected to him anymore.

"I don't think we should break her rules," I say.

I shrug my shoulders to indicate to Kash that I want him to stop touching me. He continues to put his hands on me, one hand rubbing slow circles on my abdomen from behind and the other still in my hair.

I'm relieved when we get a customer. Mickey Milkovich is standing in the door staring at Kash. I know I told him I work at five, but I didn't actually think he would come. I watch his eyes follow Kash's hand which he just pulled off my abdomen. Mickey smirks for a moment.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Thank you. I try to mouth to Mickey, but he doesn't notice. He grins and walks up to the register. I hold my breath in anticipation. I can feel Kash shaking from fear.

"It's not what it looks like," says Kash, "Just take what you want and go."

"Let me talk to Mickey, Kash," I say.

Mickey follows me to the back of the store. He is still smirking. I can't help but smile at him when he looks at me. He holds out his "fuck" hand to keep distance between us. He won't look directly at me; I follow his gaze until he has no choice but to look at me.

"Is this guy bothering you, Gallagher?"

"What? No."

"Are you sure?" Mickey asks, "I can go get my brothers and give him a beating."

"Since when do you care?"

"You're dating my sister. Her happiness is important to me. That puts you in the circle. We protect our own."

If I were to look at myself in the mirror, I'd probably look like that smiling cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"Why the fuck are you staring at me?"

"Ian!" shouted Kash from behind the register.

"I have to get back to work. You can stay if you want."

"What time you get off?"

"Nine."

"Do you need a ride home?" Kash asks as I finish sweeping the store. He puts his hands on my hips. I move away from him. "Why are you pulling away? Look, it's not my fault that Linda won't let me touch you."

"Yeah, it kind of is. You're married. You have kids."

"I never wanted that life."

"But you have it. I feel bad enough as it is. Don't make me feel worse. Please."

"Are we over?" Kash asks.

I don't answer. What is there to say? Sorry Kash, I'm fucking Mickey Milkovich. That doesn't exactly sound like a conversation I want to have. Still, I feel guilty, but it's not like Kash was my first. This should have never happened. He was married. I kind of ruined his life.

Mickey is waiting for me outside Kash 'N' Grab. I smile at him. He lights a cigarette and doesn't look at me at all. We walk side by side down the street towards our homes. I half expect us to go into an alley somewhere but we keep walking.

"Why are you walking me home?"

Mickey takes a drag off his cigarette and keeps walking. I keep up with him.

"Are you really fucking that towel-head?"

"I was. I think we broke up."

Mickey finally pushed me into an alley. I pull off my shirt as he begins to strip. It's more fun to help each other out of our clothes. I bend Mickey over. With a little spit as a lubricant I enter him. He lets out a soft grunt which is quickly followed by a deep moan.

"Does that hurt?"

"Shut the fuck up."

My heart is pounding in my chest with each thrust. The butterflies are rampant and my legs feel like they're about to give out. I receive a rush that makes me keep going. It's like a high I've never felt before.

I am not sure if this is working or not. I may try rewriting it from third person. I just don't want the characters to go too Mary Sue. That's never good. But I am going to try something different. Again Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.