Chapter 36 — Make Sheila Lose Interest in Frank
School hallway.
Lip was walking toward his math class, distracted and unfocused.
Today was judgment day.
The results of his urology exam—the diagnosis confirming whether he had erectile dysfunction—would be ready this afternoon.
His heart was a knot of anxiety.
"Lip Gallagher."
A voice he both longed for—and dreaded—rang out behind him.
He turned around in disbelief.
Sure enough—it was Karen Jackson.
"Hey, Karen… you were looking for me?"
Lip brightened instantly.
Just seeing her eased some of his stress about the test results.
"Yeah, I was looking for you.
You piece of trash bastard—go to hell!"
Before he could even react, Karen punched him square in the face, then stormed off in fury.
Blood gushed from Lip's nose.
He clutched it with both hands, staring at the blood on his palms.
"What the hell!? Why!?" he shouted after her.
But Karen didn't answer.
She didn't even look back—she simply flipped him off and walked away.
Watching Karen disappear down the hallway, Lip slammed his fist into a nearby locker.
The loud bang startled the kids who'd been watching the drama unfold.
But in the South Side, where everyone was either half-crazy or half-criminal, Lip's outburst was barely worth a second glance.
The students jumped—
and then went right back to their day.
---
Under the bridge across from Karen's house
William sat hidden beneath the bridge support, telescope in hand, observing the situation at the Jackson household.
"Frank, that bastard…
I forgot to transfer erectile dysfunction onto him back then.
Tch. Maybe it's a good thing.
If I had, I probably wouldn't have gotten this mission now."
With that, William folded up the telescope and tucked himself deeper into the shadows.
A few minutes later, Karen arrived home with her bag slung over one shoulder.
She didn't go inside immediately. Instead, she peered through the window.
The moment she spotted Frank lounging inside like he owned the place, she rolled her eyes so hard they nearly hit the back of her skull.
Beep-beep-beep.
Her phone vibrated.
She answered.
"Karen, look across the street—under the bridge."
Karen looked exactly where the voice told her.
There he was—William, leaning casually against the concrete pillar, waving at her.
"What are you doing here?
Is this about Frank?"
Karen wasn't stupid.
She caught on immediately.
"Exactly," William said. "Once you go inside, find a way to lure him out.
I'll take care of the rest."
Getting Frank kicked out wasn't actually complicated.
All William needed to do was make Sheila lose interest in him.
Once that happened, everything else would fall into place.
And honestly, getting Sheila to lose interest?
William didn't think that would be hard at all.
Karen nodded, hung up, and pulled out her key to unlock the front door.
---
Inside the Jackson house
Frank was happily enjoying a dinner Sheila had carefully prepared.
Karen stared at the scene, utterly speechless.
This freeloading parasite needed to be removed—fast.
At this point in the story, Eddie hadn't dragged Karen to that twisted "purity ceremony" yet.
She hadn't fallen out with him, nor slept with Frank to spite her father.
Actually, saying "to spite her father" wasn't even accurate—
Karen's life spiraled into self-destruction because of that whole mess.
"Hey, Frank. Lip is under the bridge across the street looking for you,"
Karen said as she pulled out a chair and sat down, the lie flowing effortlessly.
"What? Lip? Why's he looking for me?"
There wasn't a shred of parental warmth in Frank's tone—just pure calculation.
He was already wondering whether there might be some benefit involved.
"No idea. But he looked pretty anxious. Something might've happened at home—something he needs your help with."
Another lie, smooth as butter.
"Then why didn't he come knock on the door? Doesn't he know his dad can't walk properly right now?"
Frank was a seasoned liar himself—tricking him wasn't always easy.
Karen shrugged, feigning indifference.
"Beats me. Maybe it's something he can't say in front of other people."
Her casual attitude disarmed Frank instantly.
"Alright, Sheila, I'll be right back."
He flashed Sheila what he imagined was a charming smile.
"Go ahead, Frank. If Lip comes in, I'll make him his own plate,"
Sheila said sweetly.
Frank opened the door—
and immediately shivered as the cold wind hit him.
But Karen's words nagged in his mind.
Lip in trouble…
something secretive…
and possibly...profitable?
Clutching his crutch, Frank hobbled toward the bridge with renewed purpose.
It didn't take long for him to reach the spot.
But instead of Lip—
A knife-hand strike hit him cleanly from behind.
Thanks to Mastery of Free Combat, William adjusted the force precisely—
just enough to knock Frank out cold without killing him.
Frank collapsed face-first onto the concrete.
William hoisted him up effortlessly and tossed him into the back seat of a rented Chevrolet.
A motorcycle wouldn't do for tonight's job.
He started the engine and drove away with the unconscious Gallagher.
---
Back at the Jackson house
Time passed.
When Sheila noticed Frank still hadn't returned, she grew anxious.
But with her crippling agoraphobia, she couldn't bring herself to step outside.
"Baby… why isn't Frank back yet?
Do you think something happened?"
Sheila looked at Karen, desperate for comfort.
"Relax, Mom.
In the South Side, Frank is basically an immortal cockroach."
Instead of being offended, Sheila nodded earnestly.
"He is very resilient…"
---
Meanwhile, at a tattoo shop in the South Side
William had paid an obscene amount to persuade the tattoo artist to take this particular client.
"This is the guy you want tatted?"
The tattooist—a bald, heavily inked giant—asked in disbelief.
"Yep. And load him up with plenty of anesthetic.
Make sure he doesn't wake up."
"Jesus—this guy is ugly as hell,"
the tattooist muttered, disgusted, as he lifted Frank's limp body onto the chair.
But money talks. And with William's cash in hand, he did his job.
After injecting Frank with a fresh dose of anesthetic,
the artist gritted his teeth, endured the smell, flipped Frank over, and yanked down his pants.
Then he began working on Frank's bare ass.
Thirty minutes later—
"Alright. Done."
He stepped back, gagging slightly.
"This is sick. You've got seriously twisted tastes."
The tattooist raised a hand to clap William on the shoulder in admiration.
William sidestepped instantly.
That same hand had just been pressed against Frank's naked ass.
No way in hell was he letting it touch him.