07 | chicken in the bucket

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AMARA AND LIP WALKED down the sidewalk and the brunette felt her eyes widen in shock at the familiar face standing in front of the Gallagher's house. "Holy shit," she said, and Lip glanced up to follow her gaze. "Steve's back."

With a grin, the pair quickly made their way over to him. "Who the hell let you back in the country?" Lip asked, shaking the older boy's hand.

"They were patting down a ninety-year-old's diaper and I slipped by," Steve replied sarcastically, placing his hand on Amara's shoulder in greeting. She smiled at him, surprising herself with how glad she was to have him back. Amara thought he was good for Fiona, and no matter how much the older girl tried to deny it, Amara knew her tough exterior was just an act.

"Where have you been?"

"Brazil."

"Jesus," she mused. "Bring me anything back?"

"I, uh, got two cents that a gas station worker dropped," Steve answered, and she rolled her eyes.

"What did you get, the works or a tummy tuck?" Lip questioned.

"Just a dick reduction," Steve told them. "Still too big, though. I see Tony's got a live-in," he said, pointing to the house across the street.

"Yeah, second one this summer. What do you want with Tony?"

He shrugged. "Just family stuff. Business. You know."

"No, I don't know," Fiona's voice called from the porch, and the three of them turned to look at her. "What kind of business?"

"Morning," he greeted awkwardly.

"Lip, where have you been all night?"

"My place," Amara responded. "I actually forced him to let me braid his hair, you like?" She asked, ruffling it, and he swatted her hand away. "He took 'em out in the morning like a loser, though. I thought they looked cute."

"I didn't."

"Maybe you should get a haircut if you don't want me braiding your hair then, genius," Amara jokingly shot at him, shoving his shoulder.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Grammy showed up."

"What? Joliet Grammy? She tunnel out?"

"Medial furlough," Fiona clarified.

"Wait, like the one I met? That grammy?" Lip nodded. "Jeez. She's scary. I'm gonna refrain from coming over then."

"Thank God," Fiona said with a teasing smile, and Amara scowled at her. "What? You eat all of my cereal!"

Amara laid out the wads of cash on the counter in front of her, still not having nearly enough to pay off the hospital bill. She still couldn't believe James had been such a pussy, and ran to his daddy like the stuck up prick he was. But, that was rich people for you, she guessed.

"Hey," Veronica's voice rang out, and Amara spun to see her carrying a bag in her hands. "I brought you some leftover shit from the old folk's home."

"Oh, thanks," Amara said cheerily as the older girl placed the bag onto the table.

"Oh, also, this was on your front deck," she informed, handing Amara something.

"A newspaper? Since when do we get—" She was interrupted by her own scream as the paper in her hands literally exploded into a cloud of smoke that filled the room. She coughed, waving her hands so that she could see, but there was no use, the smoke was too thick.

"We need to get out of here!" Veronica yelled, coughing as well, and the fire alarm started to beep overheard. "Is anyone else home?"

"No! Silvia's with Debbie, and I haven't seen Joe or Margot all day." Veronica's hand grasped her own, and the two of them rushed out of the house, Amara blinked rapidly so she could see.

"Jesus, what the hell was that?"

"What's with all the racket?" Lip asked from next door, and Amara noticed how most of the Gallagher siblings were outside, watching the pair in worry.

"Someone planted a smoke bomb," Amara said with a shrug.

"Who the hell would do that?" Fiona asked, and Amara met Ian's gaze, before looking away with a shrug.

"I don't know. Probably just a prank. Should we call the fire department or no?"

"If it's just a smoke bomb, you should be fine," Veronica told her, before gently placing a hand on her shoulder, and turning to walk back towards her house.

"How am I supposed to pay this dumb dickhead if he burns me and my house down?" Amara muttered to herself. "I hate men."

Amara sat on the counter top next to Veronica, her legs uncomfortably tucked under her as she messily ate chicken wings out of the KFC bucket. "Married?" V echoed, sharing a look with the younger girl in disbelief.

"Yeah," Fiona replied. "To some teenager from Brazil."

"She has to be a rebound," Amara commented. "Nobody moves on from Fiona Gallagher that quickly."

Fiona snorted, shaking her head as she folded a towel. "Is she cute?"

"Very."

"Who's cute?" Debbie asked, walking down the stairs with Silvia trailing behind her.

"Chicken in the bucket," Fiona said.

"Steve's back," Veronica informed the redhead. "Married to some South American teenager."

"Really?!"

"So what did Adam do?"

Fiona scoffed. "Took off. Left me there."

"Can't blame him," V replied with a smirk, and Fiona rolled her eyes.

"How's Ethel doing?" Fiona asked, and Amara looked up to see Ian appear at the top of the steps.

"She's in shock, I think. Poor thing." Ian tried to grab the chicken wing from Amara's hand, and she smacked him away with a glare. "Husband murdered in prison."

"Don't touch my food, you bitch."

"Mm," Ian moaned, dramatically licking his fingers. "Who got murdered?"

"Ethel's husband," Amara replied. "Come on, keep up."

"Cool," Carl commented, and Silvia smacked his shoulder in annoyance, making Amara choke on her drink with a laugh.

"Kev thinks the state might send her back to that cult now that her sclerotic husband is dead," V continued.

"Grammy still here?" Ian asked, and Debbie shook her head.

"Left with Frank."

"Somewhere in Chicago a priest is being mugged," Veronica said, and Amara snickered. The back door opened to reveal Lip, who walked over to the chicken bucket, his middle finger stuck up, aimed at his brother.

Fiona sighed. "Still?"

"What was that all about?"

"Karen, I think."

Debbie groaned, stomping out of the kitchen. "Will this summer ever end?"

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