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★
AMARA WALKED OUT OF Karen's wedding reception, her heels clicking lightly on the sidewalk as she made her way outside. The late summer air blew her dress, and she was suddenly very glad she wore a pair of shorts underneath. Amara carefully carried the paper plate in her hands, making sure not to spill any of the food as she walked over to where Lip was sitting, under the L, staring off into the distance, a cigarette in his hands.
"Hey," she greeted, lightly kicking his back as she sat down onto the curb next to him. Amara was honestly surprised even she was invited to the reception—and Lip wasn't. She'd always been a bitch to Karen, but for some reason, the invite still came in the mail. Amara eyed the multiple beer cans laying at Lip's feet, and felt herself frown. She decided not to comment on it, though. She could already tell he wasn't in a good mood. "I brought you a burger."
He pulled the cigarette away from his lips, glancing over to the plate in her hands. "Thanks."
"I was going to bring you a piece of cake...but um, you know. Karen's name is drawn on it with icing."
Lip took the plate from her grasp, biting into the burger, his face scrunching up. "Jesus, this is burnt to a crisp."
Amara laughed, "I know. The food tasted like shit, incase you were wondering."
He shrugged, throwing the cigarette out. "Still, it's the thought that counts. I guess."
With a frown, she shifted on the curb, gently laying her head onto his shoulder. Lip tensed at the action, but after a moment, he relaxed. "You okay?"
He sighed. "No."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Lip sighed again. "No. Not really."
"Okay," she replied, still not lifting her head off his shoulder. Instead, she comfortingly grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers together. "My mom got drunk and bought a bunch of ugly clothes from the thrift store. Do you wanna go watch her fashion show? You know, like old times?"
Amara was surprised when Lip let out a chuckle. "Your mom is a mess."
Her mouth fell open in fake offense, and she shoved his shoulder. "Like yours isn't!" Before he got to answer, a black car drove by with the windows rolled down—and a brick was thrown at them. Lip's arms quickly snagged around her waist, hurriedly pulling her out of the way, just as the flying object hit the ground. Right where she sat seconds before. The words 'pay us, you southside slut' were written in black paint across the brick.
Lip bent down to pick it up, staring at the item in shock, before glancing to her. "What the fuck, Amara?"
★
"Why didn't you tell me any of this was going on?" Lip demanded once they were back at the Gilbert residence, staring at the one grand place onto the counter in front of him.
"I didn't want you to worry..." She trailed off. "Besides, you were so upset about the Karen shit, I didn't want to add to your problems. Five thousand is a lot of money."
"Amara," he said, taking her shoulders into his grasp, and staring into her eyes. "You're my fucking family. Your problems are my problems. You know that." Lip sighed, and Amara glanced up once she heard a floorboard creak. Joe stood at the top of the staircase, his gaze trained on his daughter, who scowled at him, before he turned and walked out the door. "So what now?"
"I don't know. I've been so swamped for cash, and I thought the smoke bomb was the last of it, but now I'm getting bricks thrown at me?"
"I don't have much but—"
"No," she smacked his arm, and Lip looked back up to her in shock. "You're not helping. Your money is for your actual family."
"You are actual family, Amara."
"You know what I mean."
Suddenly, the front door bursted open again, and Joe walked in with a bag in his hands, quickly dumping the components inside onto the counter. Amara gawked at the wads of cash that fell out. "Pay your debts," was all he said.
"I don't want your pity money."
"It's not pity money. You're my daughter."
"I already told you, you can't buy your way back into my life."
"Well," Joe threw his arms up. "Five grand. That's how much you need, correct? Don't think of it as pity money, or me buying my way back to you forgiving me. Think of it as a way for you to stay safe." With that, her father marched up the stairs, but Amara made no move to grab the cash on the counter.
"Just take it," Lip told her. "Please. If they're willing to throw fucking bricks at you, I don't know how else they'll go. Please."
She huffed. "Fine. But I'm totally not forgiving him, okay?"
"No one is asking you to," Lip gently reminded her. "I just need you safe and alive. I also need James Lewis' address."
Amara snorted, nudging his shoulder. "To be fair, I did punch him in the face and broke his nose."
"Yeah, but he had it coming."
"True, true."
"I can't believe you decked someone and I wasn't there to see it, I'm a little disappointed in myself, if I'm being honest."
With a laugh, she shook her head. "Don't worry, just for you, I'll be sure to knock out some other bitchass punk while you're still in the room."
