Part Twenty-Eight: Mine. So Back Off.
Lip Gallagher goes on about how there is a registered sex offender in the neighborhood. While I am 100% certain my dad is the biggest one around, this is a problem. We don't want any kid fuckers in our neighborhood. So naturally, we got to bash some fucking skulls.
Lip and Ian and my fucking dad show up at the house gather all the blunt weapons they can find and rally my brothers and cousins. Our posse gets larger as we march toward the pervert's house. My dad knocks on the door. Ian is on one side of him, Lip on the other and I'm behind him.
A blonde woman answers the door. My father seems caught off guard. It turns out she's the fucking sex offender. What the fuck? "Look, I've made my mistakes, if love can be called a mistake."
My eyes shift over to Ian who's wearing an unbelievably tight shirt today. It brings out his eyes. What the fuck am I thinking about this for? The group disbands. Lip, Ian, Carl, and I remain. Lip sends Carl home.
"We got to do something about this?"
"You thinking gang bang?"
"No."
"If I had a teacher who looked like that I probably would have stayed in school. I'm getting hard just thinking about it," I say to save face with Lip. I don't look at Ian. I know he's looking at me though. "Yo, Angie, wanna fuck?" I ask the fat woman sitting on the porch next door to the female child molester.
"Sure."
I go into her Angie's house. Lip and Ian leave. Before Ian, fucking Angie would have been a breeze. I would have been able to do it without a problem. I stare out the window as she hands me a beer.
"We gonna fuck or not?"
"No," I tell her. I wait a while then leave. I consider looking for Ian, but I go home instead. Mandy is going out with Lip, so she's never fucking here anymore. She hangs out at the Gallagher house all the fucking time. She practically lives there according to my brothers and father. It's fucking lonely here without her.
My shift at the Kash 'N' Grab this afternoon has me doing two drug deals in the back of the store. Linda is out with her brats and it's just me and Ian. At the end of my second drug deal I spot some old fucking geezer flirting with Ian.
"You came all the way to the south side for a bag of chips?"
"A bag of chips and a ginger snap, I'm hoping." He says with an inviting tone to his voice.
"I'm working."
"What about later? We could go to happy hour at the Fountain?"
"Ok," says Ian.
It hits me like a ton of fucking bricks. I have this feeling inside my stomach that's rampant and strong.
"Got a receipt," I ask. I want to get a good look at the man whose ass I'm about to fucking kick. He grabs one from Ian and I let him pass. He has to be at least fifty. "That your grandpa?"
"No. He's not my grandpa, just the guy I've been seeing."
My heart is pounding harder than it ever has and my blood is fucking boiling. I try to stay casual when I dig for more information about this.
"The guy you've been seeing. What do you two picnic together or have a little dog with a fucking sweater?"
"We don't picnic we mostly just fuck. Like you and Angie."
I didn't fuck Angie. I stare at his smug fucking face as he gets up to finish his work. I resist the urge to kick the counter. That motherfucker must be this Jimmy's dad he spoke of when I was in juvie. I had hoped he was lying. Fuck.
"So you're going out with grandpa?" I ask.
"Yep, right after work."
Not if I can fucking help it, you're not. And at four Ian leaves to meet up with Father Time. Linda comes back to take over the register for the closing shift. I buy a six pack. "Where the fuck is the Fountain?"
She writes down the address. I find them together, and decide to watch to make sure that old fucking pervert keeps his hands to himself. I crack open a beer. Grandpa and Ian are laughing over drinks. He touches Ian's leg. You want to lose that fucking hand? But it's not his hands I should break; Ian's waiter cops a feel. You're on my fucking list, fatty.
I toss my beer can on the ground and crack open my second one. Ian is smiling. He's sharing his smile with this fucker. What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I actually jealous? Fuck. I feel like punching something really fucking hard. His fucking face would be perfect.
Ian and Grandpa end their fucking date. I find myself in their path staring at the old creep. Ian's features turn a little serious. "Shit, Mickey."
"You're from the store right? Aw, Ian, invite your boyfriend back to my place."
That's it, Gramps. Your ass is grass. "What'd you call me?"
I throw several punches. I knock him knock and continue to beat him repeatedly. "What'd you call me? Did you call me gay?"
Ian punches me in the throat and I feel to the ground gasping for breath. When I catch my breath I take off running before the cops come. I wait for Ian. He's checking on the stupid fucking old guy.
"Gallagher," I say.
"Sorry, I'll text you." No you won't.
We run into an alley.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ian asks.
I touch him. I touch the back of his neck and his stomach. We play fight all the way back to our homes. I stop him a block from his house. Ian looks at me smiling.
"This," I say motioning between us, "Whatever this is. We don't share with other fucking people."
"Are you asking me to out officially?" Ian asks raising an eye brow.
"No," I say. Ian shrugs and stares at me intently. Fuck. I'm staking a fucking claim. I don't fucking share. Back the fuck off. "I don't want to catch fucking AIDs from you screwing other guys."
I don't want him with anyone else. He's fucking mine. I can't stand still. I kick a fucking trash can repeatedly. He's mine. My heart rate doesn't seem to be slowing. I try to breathe.
"So you don't want me fucking other men because you don't want to get AIDs?" Ian repeats.
"Did I fucking stutter?"
"No. I got it."
"Do you fucking agree or not?"
"So you won't be fucking anyone either?"
"No."
"Then yeah," says Ian.
He's wearing that smug fucking smile again. Fuck you, you smug bastard. And fuck you, Ryan, where ever your fat ass is. You fucking win. Okay, I'll fucking say it, bitch. Ian Gallagher is mine.