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Prince of Tennis: Ninja of Tennis
Downtown Chicago, an upscale bar.
After finishing the call and knowing what happened, Fiona's body shook. A moment later, she snapped out of it, immediately ran to the manager to ask for leave, and then rushed out to the hospital.
The saying "pitiful people must have their own hateful qualities" is not false at all.
Even though Frank had abused Fiona a thousand times, in Fiona's heart, Frank was still her father, still family. When something happened to Frank, Fiona would still panic and worry.
Like this, how could Fiona's life ever get better?
Time flew.
Fiona arrived at the hospital and found Frank.
Frank still had tests to do, but he was awake now, sitting up in the hospital bed, watching TV while enjoying the taste of the IV drip.
Seeing Fiona, Frank's expression didn't change at all. He just glanced at her once and looked back at the TV.
Fiona stared at Frank in this state, feeling both hatred and reluctance to let go. She gritted her teeth before finally finding her voice. "What did the doctor say?"
Frank didn't even look at Fiona. "No problem. I'm fine."
Just then, the unlucky doctor in charge of Frank walked into the ward.
Seeing him, Fiona immediately asked, "Doctor, what does Frank have?"
The doctor glanced at Fiona. Because Fiona hadn't had time to change and her clothes were quite revealing, his eyes lit up involuntarily. He admired her for a few seconds before replying, "Liver is failing. He must quit drinking, or he will die... Even so, this liver won't last much longer."
"He needs a liver transplant."
Boom!
Die? Transplant?
Instantly, Fiona's brain exploded, unable to believe her ears.
Frank laughed. "Doctor, no need to scare me. I know my body well. I'm fine."
Because Frank was a frequent flyer at the ER, the doctor was no stranger to him. He smiled at Frank. "Just treat it as me scaring you. Keep drinking, drink yourself to death. I think the hospital will definitely thank you, maybe even pay for a trip to the Caribbean for me."
Frank laughed too. "If you say that, you should thank me. So, give me some meds first. I hurt all over, can't hold on much longer."
Saying that, Frank started acting.
The doctor didn't fall for it. He shook his head, nimbly recorded the values on the monitor, and turned to leave.
At this moment.
Fiona, having calmed down a little, spoke subconsciously, "Doctor, this liver transplant you mentioned, how much does it cost?"
Again.
No matter what she said, deep down, Fiona still couldn't accept the death of her father, Frank.
Heh, this precious family bond—is it touching, or is it tragic?
"You don't have insurance, right?" Seeing that Fiona was dressed quite coolly, the doctor was very patient and asked.
Fiona shook her head.
"Out of pocket... for a liver transplant, prepare about two hundred thousand dollars," the doctor replied with a hint of a smile, knowing the Gallagher family couldn't possibly have this money.
Fiona was dumbfounded, speechless.
Two hundred thousand dollars?
Jesus!
Seeing Fiona silent, the doctor checked his watch. He didn't have time to wait around, so he left without saying more.
A long time passed.
Fiona blinked and looked at Frank with a dark face. "What are you going to do?"
Was Frank afraid of death?
Very afraid.
Therefore, Frank already had an idea in his mind.
What idea?
The Jackson house.
Frank felt that selling the child in Monica's belly back to Eddie once and for all, making Eddie sell the house to give him money, and then scraping together some more, should be enough.
"Do you care?" But Frank said nothing of that, only glancing at Fiona and asking back.
Fiona bit her lip. She really wanted not to care, but she couldn't. "I came here, didn't I?"
Frank smiled faintly. "Then figure out a way to prepare two hundred thousand dollars, or get me some insurance. Working in certain places, you get insurance that covers the whole family, for example, at Dexter's place."
Frank spent years at the Alibi, and the Alibi was very close to Dex Restaurant, so he knew the benefits there well.
Fiona was stunned.
Getting two hundred thousand dollars was impossible unless she robbed a bank.
As for working for Dexter...
Fiona thought of the Western restaurant Dexter was about to open.
But, to wrong herself like this for Frank...
Fiona was instinctively unwilling. After thinking it over, she asked, "Are you going to continue drinking?"
"Of course," Frank answered without a shred of hesitation.
Fiona laughed out loud at this, shaking her head repeatedly. "Then why should I care? I'll prepare a coffin for you."
"Fxxk off!" Frank was actually very afraid of death. Hearing this, he cursed immediately.
Fiona smiled, bit her lip again, said no more, turned, and left.
Frank watched Fiona's back and said nothing.
Fiona went back to work at the bar, wanting to use work to stop thinking about Frank's mess.
Unfortunately, this wasn't something she could control.
Fiona was very irritable.
---
The night grew deeper.
The doctor signed the papers to let Frank be discharged.
Frank refused.
The doctor anticipated this and had to bargain with Frank. Finally, at the cost of dozens of Oxy pills, the two reached a deal.
Carrying the pills, Frank left the hospital happily. He immediately swallowed two pills in one go and walked straight toward the Alibi.
Not drinking was impossible.
He had to drink.
Drink until he truly couldn't drink anymore.
After 11:00 PM.
In the Alibi Room, the old barflies were almost all there.
Seeing Frank back so soon, everyone was startled. Then, they all spoke up, asking curiously.
"Jesus, Frank, I thought you were definitely dead."
"Frank, your life is really tough."
"Frank, did they find out what's wrong?"
"..."
"You'll all be dead before I die. Keep dreaming," Frank laughed and cursed carelessly as he sat in his old spot at the bar.
It was interesting to say.
Frank had sat on this high stool for over a decade.
This stool had truly been polished to a patina by Frank's sitting. It was impressive.
"Kevin, an Old Style, and is there anything to eat?" Sitting down, Frank asked very comfortably.
Seeing Frank back, Kevin was still a bit relieved.
After all, dealing with him for so many years, there was more or less some affection.
So, Kevin didn't mention money. "There's some fried chicken left, but it's cold. Want it?"
"Of course," Frank nodded crisply. "Cold means it's free, right? Thanks."
Kevin hadn't planned to charge him anyway—he wouldn't get it even if he asked. He smiled helplessly, quickly poured Frank a drink, and brought the fried chicken.
Frank lifted the glass. Gulp, gulp, gulp~~
"Beer is truly fxxking good stuff!" After downing half the glass in one breath, Frank smiled and sighed with great emotion.
The drunkards heard this and voiced their agreement one after another.