This isn't long, or smart, or not-straightforward. It's just a stupid idea I had and managed to stretch to 1500 words.

Enjoy.

Eddy cracked the front door open.

"Hi, cutie." Lee waved from the other side. "You're cooking something?"

"No, I just like to wear aprons and carry wooden spatulas on myself." he spat, pointing at her with the appliance. "What do you want?"

"You remember that twenty I borrowed from you?"

"Walking up to me and saying 'gimme a twenty' doesn't count as borrowing." he muttered, annoyed.

"It does if I'm giving it back." The redhead pulled out a note from her pocket and handed it to him. He inspected it carefully.

"You started counterfeiting cash or something?" Eddy muttered in disbelief.

"Wha-no!" Lee reacted. "May just got a job and I'm trying to be nice for once!"

Eddy gave her a look. "'You' and 'nice' do not belong in the same universe."

"Take that up with the guy writing this dross."

"Whatever." He pocketed the note. "What kind of job did she get?"

"Tailor's apprentice or something." she replied. "The place she's working in is called 'Big Steve's'. I'm pretty proud of her."

The name has rung a bell in the boy's head. An alarm bell. "Are you… sure it's called like that?"

"Well, I gave her a lift there on her first day," she switched to a snazzy tone, "the place has a big-ass sign above it, and she pointed at it and said 'it's there, I work there'. But you know, I might've imagined that or something."

Eddy's face went pale. "Wait here, I gotta check something."

He closed the door in her face. For a few seconds Lee considered walking away, having done her thing, but morbid curiosity ultimately prevailed. Sure, last time it prevailed she found Marie's porn stash, but it was a different situation this time – what was the worst thing he could tell her?

After a while, the door opened and Eddy invited her to enter. She noticed he was holding a cell phone in the other hand.

"I don't wanna say that in the open." he hid it, his voice low. "And you need to promise you won't punch me in the gut for what I'll tell ya."

She crossed her arms. "Don't say anything punch-worthy, and I won't punch you."

He sighed, annoyed. "Alright. That place May works in is…" he said, struggling to find the right words, "a cover-up for… illegal activities."

Lee shrugged. "Meh, she knows how to leg it if things get south. What they're doing there, dismantling stolen cars?"

Eddy mentally prepared a blow to the stomach. "It's a brothel."

A split second passed, as an image flashed in the Kanker's head, an image that shouldn't flash in the head of anyone with a younger sister.

"WHAT?!"

"I'm not repeating that." he said, trying to inch away, only for the redhead to grab him by the collar and pull his face to hers.

"How did you know that in the first place?!" she screamed.

"My brother is a horrible babysitter." He averted her gaze. "That's all you're getting."

"Fine, question two – you sure it's still a whorehouse?"

"I just called that douchebag, he said he was there a few weeks ago." He shuddered at the thought. "I need that image outta my head."

"You don't say. Question three – I need a gun."

"That's not a question, and I don't have a gun."

"Gimme that thing then." she said, yanking the spatula from him. "I'll give it back in a few hours."

"What are you-" he cut short, noticing that he was now talking to the door she slammed behind herself. "-ah, screw it. None of my business."

Eddy went back to the kitchen and started to look something else to stir the meat on the frying pan, when his phone played a 50s tune. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It read "Douchebag."

He picked up the call. "We just talked a moment ago, what the hell do you want from me now?"

A bit of silence.

"…and NOW you're telling me this?"

More silence.

"She doesn't have a cell phone, moron." He groaned. "And I ain't gonna risk trying to stop her in person now, she's pissed."

Trying to make this look legit takes too much time, Big Steve thought, filling out yet another tax form.

His phone buzzed on his desk. He tapped the screen a few times to pick up the call and turn on the loudspeaker.

"Hello?"

"Boss," he recognized the voice of one of his girls, "there's a pissed off young woman heading towards your office with some sorta shiv."

The door to his office was opened with a kick.

"Call security." he ordered the person on the phone. His other hand slid under the desk.

"If by 'security' you mean those two guys by the door, they didn't put up much of a fight." Lee introduced herself. "In fact, they didn't put up a fight at all, they just saw me with this thing," she showed Steve a sharpened spatula, "and then legged it." She pointed her weapon at him. "You're the bastard pimping out my underage sister, aren't you?"

"It isn't important." Steve produced a revolver. "What is important, however, is that I have a gun and you have some pointy wood." He cracked a smile, pulling the hammer back. "Don't do anything stupid, lady."

"It's not loaded."

"Excuse me?"

"I can see the chambers. There's no bullets in them."

After a moment of hesitation, the pimp muttered: "Dammit, I knew I should've used a semi-auto."

"Why would you even keep it unloaded?"

"Basic gun safety, woman!" he replied. "Besides, I can always pistol whip you with it, so sta-" he cut short, as he realized that the assailant used a specific word, "-wait a sec, did you say 'underage'?"

"She's fifteen, you sick fuck!"

"This has to be a misunderstanding." he reassured. "I personally checked that every girl in here is legal, except the-"

"Lee? What are you doing?" someone familiar spoke from behind her. "What's going on?"

Shank still pointed at Steve, the redhead turned around to see her sister, wearing the tracksuit and shirt she left the house in, with a few spools of thread sticking out of her shirt pocket. Unless some guy was into roleplaying, she was doing the non-euphemistic kind of tailoring.

"May!"

"Why are you threatening my boss with a…" she squinted, "…is that a spatula? Don't you carry a balisong and a retractable baton thingie? Why a spatula of all things?"

"I was pissed and not thinking straight, alright?!"

"As I was saying," Steve went on, "every girl here is legal, except some of the ones who work on actual tailoring."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Wait, aren't you a pimp? Pretty sure I passed by some whores in the corridor."

"Indeed I am, astute observation." he explained. "But considering I'm operating under the cover of a tailor shop, I must hire some people that can operate a sewing machine, like your sister over here. Let me stress: All she does it tailoring." he said, putting emphasis on the last five words. "Comprende?"

The redhead gave her sister a glance. "He isn't... mistreating you, is he?"

"Well, I'm not getting any smoke breaks like other girls."

Lee lowered her weapon. "But you don't smoke."

"Because I'm not getting smoke breaks, duh!"

Big Steve groaned. "Let's just wrap this up. You," he pointed at May, "are not a ho, you," at Lee, "are not sane, and my bouncers are not worth two shits. May, get back to work, crazed redhead…"

"Lee."

"…get the hell out."

The two turned around, only for Steve to say "Actually, no, wait a minute, Lee." he said. "I'd like to have a word with you."

"…and that's how I got this job." Lee finished. "Thanks for the stroganoff, by the way."

Her and Eddy were sitting in the break room for Big Steve's tailors, next to the entrance to the building. Lee was wearing a suit jacket with a shirt underneath, and the boy needed to admit she looked surprisingly professional in that.

"That's a way to say 'sorry for making you think your sister's selling her body'." he replied.

"Hey, not your fault your douchebag brother forgot about that when you called him." she said, opening the microwave and putting the container inside. "And I'm getting myself a cell phone as soon as I get my first sa- hold on..."

She paused, then marched out of the room and up to an inebriated wannabe patron, barely managing to stand upright. "Sir, I must ask you to leave the premises."

"Oi, I came here for a- for a pretty lady." he slurred. "You're not pretty."

"Sir," she gritted her teeth, "for the last time, you're drunk. Please leave."

"Or else wha-"

Lee delivered a blow to his chest, strong enough to make him go off-balance and land on the floor – which, considering his state, wasn't saying much.

"I won't say it the third time. You're shitfaced, get out."

"Alright, fine, fine." he said, trying and failing to stand up. Noticing the redhead's glare, he scrawled away to the exit on all fours.

"You're happy with that job, ain'tcha?" Eddy muttered, peeking from the break room.

"I'm getting paid for beating up assholes." Lee grinned. "I'm livin' the dream."