HARD TIMES ━ lip gallagher²

07 | vogue's seventy-three questions

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"WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT MOVING would be so easy?" Amara mused, leaning against the doorframe as she glanced around the new apartment.

"That's because we have nothing to transfer," Silvia replied, coming back from down the hallway. "You know there's a dead mouse in the bathtub, right?"

Amara winced in disgust, and looked over her shoulder. "Lip! Get in here."

Footsteps sounded from behind before he appeared a moment later, and Lip glanced from one of the only boxes filled with things that had survived the fire. "What's up?"

Amara smiled sweetly at him, and his gaze immediately turned suspicious. "I need you to fish a mouse out of the tub."

Lip shook his head. "Nope. No way."

"Come on Lip," Silvia pleaded. "It's nasty."

"Yeah," Amara nodded. "Be the man. Do it."

"I'd really rather not."

"Mara will make out with you if you do."

Amara snapped her head over in the direction of her sister. "No I absolutely won't!"

"Bummer," Lip mused. "That almost convinced me."

Amara glared at him. "Do it or I'll wax off your leg hair."

Lip huffed and brushed past her, walking towards the bathroom. "You know, if you were anyone else, I definitely wouldn't be doing this."

Silvia waited until he was out of earshot before smirking at her sister. "Damn, he is so whipped."

Amara turned on her heel to walk into the kitchen. "I don't know what the fuck that means, but it's very doubtful."

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The location of the Gilbert's newest home wasn't exactly the most convenient as the previous one had been. It was two blocks over, even farther into the ghetto than before. The complex wasn't ideal, it was dirty and run-down, but they didn't have any other options. Because of the realtors and such building the neighborhood up, nothing had been in their price range. It was so strange not living next to the Gallagher's anymore, too. Amara hated it. The apartment didn't even feel like home—all of their decorations had been burned, and everything that had been saved held no sentimental value.

The only plus was that it was a block closer to the public pool, and Amara wasn't drenched from sweat by the time she arrived at her job. Not like that would have much use anymore, either. It was still the beginning of September, but it always closed early. Amara was packing up the lawn chairs close to the fence along with the help of her other co-workers.

"Damn," a voice said, and Amara looked up to see James on the outskirts of the fence. "This is depressing. Never thought I'd see it so empty."

Amara shrugged and moved to fold another chair. "We might not be opening up back next summer, too. With everything that's going on around here, you know the upping property value and stuff, most people already have pools in their backyards. There was a realtor here earlier. They were talking about filling in the pool and making this a yoga studio."

James shuffled his feet. "Heard about your house problem."

"I'm not taking anything else from you."

"I figured," he nodded, "just thought I'd let you know that the offer was still out there. How's the new place?"

Shitty. "Not too bad," was what she said. "A lot smaller. Three bedroom. Uh, it's got a balcony. Decent kitchen space. Came with a dead mouse."

"Oh. Lovely."

"Thought so too."

"You can pay those bills?"

Amara glanced up. "It's a shithole. But we'll manage. We always do."

"What about your mom? She still sober?"

"What is this? Vogue's seventy-three questions?"

"Sorry it's just... not much excitement in that remission room. I mean, don't get me wrong, getting healthier is very exciting but not many people wound up lucky like I did. There's so much sadness that just clogs the hospital."

Amara sighed. "Well, I'll need to find a new job. Might be able to ask Fiona to work at Patsy's."

"Or," he cut in. "You could do something you want. Like there's this writing studio down the block from me-"

"Thanks, but I'm good," she shook her head.

"Amara, I didn't get you into an art college for you just to throw your interests away."

"People like me don't get to be what they want when they grow up, okay?" She said, a little sharply. "South side people don't get happy endings. And waitressing isn't the worst job for me to have. At least I'm not, like, prostituting myself or something. So just drop it."

"I'll never stop telling you how much you deserve. And how much you deserve better."

"I'll punch you in the nose again if you don't stop."

"Fine," he raised his hands in surrender. "I'll stop for now. Want a ride home? We can get Wendy's..."

Amara groaned. "How am I supposed to say no to that kind of offer?"

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