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The abuse gets worse, the excitement gets better.

Your insurance is suing me." Erin's jaw dropped. He stared at her. "What? You didn't know? Lyn and Merle didn't tell you?"

"No, I...I had no idea. Why?"

Randy downed his drink in one huge gulp, "Cause it's 'my' fault, Erin. I thought you knew that. All of this. You, James, that fucking asshole on the motorcycle. All of it. My fault...alone." He ran his hands through his hair and stared at Erin a bit harder.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't know." Erin suddenly felt very small with Randy staring down at her. "Really."

"Yeah, yeah." He started to walk away but was stopped by Karen.

She looked at Erin and smiled politely, "Did Randy tell you the news?"

{Why in the hell does she sound so fucking pleased? My insurance company is suing them.} "News?"

Karen's lackluster smile grew instantly broad, "I'm pregnant! Isn't it wonderful?" She kissed Randy on the cheek and stared at her little sister waiting for a reply.

"That's...that's great, Karen." Erin looked from her sister to Randy and then back again. He did not seem to genuinely share the joy that Karen so obviously felt. "I'm happy for you, really."

Karen took the empty glass from Randy and scolded him, "You know that you're not supposed to be drinking." She turned to Erin and said, "If he were to get pulled over with so much as a whiff of liquor on his breath, our insurance company would drop us like a hot potato!"

Erin shook her head, "Oh, God, Karen...I'm so sorry about all that. Randy just told me."

"There's no need to be sorry. That's what we pay those big ass premiums for. But to be on the safe side, we've decided to not give the insurance company ANY reason whatsoever to even have so much as a whisper of a reason that they can use to drop us." Karen was so chipper. Hormones. Amazing things. Erin sighed. {Well, she could be a tart bitch like she was with Kyle}

Erin started to tell her sister and Randy that they didn't really have to worry. That she was sure this would all be resolved soon, but Chaselyn called out to Karen, "Sweetie, come look at what Deb's doing." Karen kissed Randy and Erin both before dashing away.

And there they were again, alone...and Erin felt so odd. "I'm happy for the both of you."

Randy knelt down and put his hand on Erin's knee, "Really? You're happy? Is that something 'new' you're trying out? Cause I was sort of getting used to the sour ass bitch that you've been these past few months."

Erin looked down at Randy's hand and felt an uneasiness come over her. His speech was a bit slurred. Erin's mind rushed to make sense of Randy's dark demeanor. {It's the insurance stuff. He just had more to drink than he should have, that's all.} "Yeah, well, I've decided I'm tired of her. I want to be like I was..." She could smell the bourbon on Randy's breath, "Well, as close as I can be to like I was."

Randy smiled and pushed his hand up Erin's thigh a bit more and gently squeezed, "Good. I like the old Erin." He leaned very close to her and whispered in her ear, "I like her a lot."

Erin pulled away from him as her hand curtly pushed his hand off of her leg. "Randy, I think you've had too much to drink. Maybe you should get some barbeque or something. Daddy's just finished with the ribs, you know."

Randy smiled at her and laughed, "Yeah, you're right Erin. Maybe I do need a little something to eat." He stood and started to walk away from her, "Oh, and don't worry, Karen's gonna drive home so I think I'll get another drink."

Erin felt a wave of hot dread wash over her. Randy was such a mild mannered man. A man she used to tease, relentlessly so, with her words and deeds. And Erin suddenly wished she could take it all back. All the innuendos. All the glances. All of it. But she knew she'd never be able to take it back. And she knew that the years of her teasing him were coming back to haunt her. {Fuck.} She put her head in her hands and tried to collect herself.

Later, as the family sat around the picnic table eating barbequed spare ribs and roasted corn on the cob, Erin started to feel better.

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