A/N: Well, here's another chapter posted, after all this time. Changed a few things, and looking to go back and correct some errors. Hope you enjoy reading! Thank you!

"I would say that I can't believe he flipped like that," Amanda said as they cruised through the neighborhood. "But that's just typical Trevor."

"I really appreciated you and Michael being there."

"I wouldn't have missed your dance for the world. I remember my days doing it. If it wasn't for the kids, I probably wouldn't have stopped."

"Maybe you should start a dancing class," Karen suggested as she pulled up to the house. "Not like a stripper course. Just pole dancing in general."

"Let's see how happy Michael will be with that idea," she said with a short laugh. "So, this is it."

The ladies opened their car doors, glancing at the house before them.

"Got it for a steal. Despite being angry with me, Trevor still helped me get it."

"What is it a month?" Amanda asked as they made their way to the front door, bags in hand. Karen's keys jingled as she found the correct one.

"Twenty-three a month. But that's not bad considering how expensive some of these houses are."

"I know Trevor wouldn't let you struggle. Say what you will about him, but he does love you, Karen." She followed Karen into the home, looking around at the surroundings. "This is nice. Very nice."

"Thanks. New paint and new carpet was part of the closing, so the painters allowed me to pick out what color I wanted, and you know how much I love taupe. Plus, they white-washed all the baseboards and crown molding."

"I love it. It's so you."

"There's still quite a bit of work to do. Furniture to be bought. I've never actually went the path of home owner before."

"Well, if the government hadn't bought our house, I'm not sure I would have either. But you know... "

Karen raised her eyebrow at her friend's comment, a smirk on her face as they set the bags down. "I'm sure that was easy."

"Like you wouldn't believe," Amanda said, brushing off the conversation as they walked past the formal living room. "So tell me what you plan for the kitchen."

"Black and gray, stainless steel appliances, with a hint of red."

"That's going to look great with the dark cabinets and dark gray counter tops. Granite?" Amanda asked, smoothing her hand over the surface of the kitchen island.

"Yeah, Trevor wanted it dark."

"Just like his personality," Amanda said with a shiver. "I think it looks great though. They did a good job."

"They did indeed. I think I might start ordering some furniture today. The first thing we want to get is a bedroom set. And I want one of those thick mattresses so I can be super comfortable for bed."

"They're having a sale at – "

Her words were cut off by the front door shutting loudly. Then they heard his voice.

"Karen?"

The familiar clunk of his boots drifted from down the short hallway from the front door to where she and Amanda stood in the kitchen.

"I think that's my cue to depart now," Amanda said lightly. "Enjoy your new home."

Karen accepted Amanda's hug. "You good to drive?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she said, waving off Karen's concern. "It was just a small headache."

Trevor took his eyes off Karen for a brief moment, looking at Amanda as she separated from his woman.

"And enjoy your man," Amanda joked as she grabbed her purse from the counter. "Nice seeing you, Trevor."

He grunted an acknowledgment, watching her leave the kitchen before his eyes snapped back to Karen.

"What was that about?"

"I drove after we went shopping. She started feeling dizzy."

"Maybe Michael can throw even more money at her. That always makes her feel better."

"You mean like you do with me?" she asked, organizing some of the kitchen items from the shopping bags.

"You weren't supposed to be a stripper like she is. You've been hanging around her too much. Was it her idea?"

Karen looked back at him, knowing that the humor she found in the situation wasn't making him happy.

"It's not funny, Karen. Michael may accept that his wife sleeps around with assholes, but I won't accept that with you."

"Trevor," she said, her voice stern now. "Doing a little dance routine for a few minutes is a far cry from sleeping around." She turned back to the items on the counter, her voice low. "Besides, you've been throwing money at me anyway. I might as well dance in your club."

"What was that?" He was swift on his feet, snatching her arm and turning her to face him. "What did you say?"

"You throw money at me, Trevor," she said, pulling her arm from his grasp.

"You're happy with it, aren't you? Got a car and a house now."

"I already had both of those. You can stop being a jerk about it. I never asked for anything from you."

"That doesn't lessen the fact that I would give my life for you."

"That doesn't mean you have to act like this. I don't cheat on you, Trevor. I'll leave before I go that far."

She saw the angry expression on his face drop. He looked hurt by her words.

"But you won't leave me, right? I don't want you to leave, Karen. I'd rather you cheat on me."

Tilting her head, she looked into his hazel eyes. "You can't be serious. You'd really rather someone cheat on you than to just walk away?"

"No, I don't want either one, but I'd rather you not walk away from me."

She grabbed a few items that were to be put into drawers. "I've been on the receiving end. I would have rather he just walked away from me than to be dishonest to me."

"I'm not your asshole of an ex, who didn't care to not let you go in the first place. That's his loss and my gain, and where is this cocksucker so I can go rip his head off and shit down his neck?"

The smirk on her face came back as she continued to organize. "He's far away from me where he belongs. I have no idea what he's doing now."

Trevor traced his fingers down the side of her arm, Karen shivering at the motion. Brushing off the feelings swirling in her, she looked down at her phone.

"I'm going to have some bedroom furniture and a table set delivered for tomorrow. And I'm going to get some clothes, too. I barely brought anything over from the other place."

He simply watched her as she opened a store's app on her phone. After searching a bit, she moved to the space in the kitchen where a table were to be placed. He couldn't wait to get that table, whatever it may look like. Because he was going to have his way with her on it every single morning for the next month.

"Don't get glass," he said after a long pause.

Karen looked over at him. "I'm not," she said as she turned around in the space. "Why?"

"I wouldn't want to break your pretty table after only a few times."

"What are you talking about?" she asked him as he approached her.

"I'm going to take you in every room of this house."

"""""

Karen's head snapped to where a voice was calling her name. Her eyes barely had to look around before she saw his face.

"What the fuck? Packie?"

Completing the transaction at the ATM she was standing in front of, she studied his face more carefully. Cuts adorned and marred his flesh, and she could see a bruise and a knot near his hairline. He didn't have to say anything to her, his green eyes speaking to her.

"White Buffalo," she told him. "Get in the back seat and lay down. I'll be there in a second."

He nodded and followed her directions. She looked around, not seeing anyone paying attention to them. Quickly, she made her way back to Franklin's car.

"What the fuck's going on, K?" she heard Franklin cry out, turning to keep his eye on the strange man in his vehicle.

"I'll explain when we get out of here." She placed the car in reverse, carefully looking around the parking lot.

"Can we get something to drink?" Packie asked after a few silent moments. "I'm fucking dying back here."

"You're not dying. Calm down."

"K," Franklin said with his hands out.

"Okay," she said pulling into line at a fast food place. "Frankie, this is Packie. I know him from back in Liberty City. I had no clue he was out here at all." She looked at him through the rear view mirror as he sat up.

"Give me a break, Karen," he said to her, "I just been through hell, and the guy that was out here with me, fucked me over."

"Frankie, can you text Michael to see if he's home?" She proceeded to order some food, and started off towards Michael's.

"Yeah, he's home," Franklin informed her after a few minutes. "He said him and Trevor drinking a few beers. Nah, I'm good." He waved his hand at her offering of fries.

"Alrighty then, that's where we're heading to. Because I'd like to get the full story from this bum back here," she said, passing Packie his drink and some food.

"Hey, don't get me started. I'm all banged up and in a bad mood, Getaway."

She smiled at hearing her old nickname. "I haven't heard that in a long time. My crew out here don't call me that."

"Getaway?" Franklin repeated.

"Hell yeah, best damn driver I know. Can get out of anything."

"While Packie back here is still staying in trouble."

They arrived at Michael's shortly after, pulling into his driveway. Karen hurried to help Packie out of the backseat.

"Franklin," Michael said, holding his hands out. "The fuck's going on?"

"Someone K knows, man. I'm just as lost as you are."

"Michael, do you have a first aid kit?" Karen asked him as she led Packie through the doors. With her hand on his back, she took him over to the kitchen table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trevor jump up from the couch in the living room.

"What the fuck is this?" he shouted out. "Who the fuck is he?"

Karen sat down with Packie, opening up the items in the first aid kit.

"What happened, Packie?" Karen asked him, beginning to cleanse his wounds.

"Was a botched robbery. The guy I was with took off the minute there was heat."

"Do you know where he went?" she asked, now rubbing an antibiotic ointment over the scrapes.

"No fucking clue. I hope he sits on a hot grill and spins."

Karen let out a wide smile at his words. "You think you'd be a little nicer now that you're older."

"You're just as old as me now, Getaway."

"Don't count me as old just yet, McReary. I got a lot of miles left in this tank."

"You were always built better than most, Getaway," he said, earning a look from Trevor that could have killed.

"What the fuck did you just say to her?" Trevor spat out. "You pencil dick prick, who the fuck do you think you are talking to my woman like that?"

"Your woman?" Packie questioned before the blur of Karen standing in front of him caught up with him.

"Trevor, please go sit down," she said to him, her hand on his chest. Michael and Franklin stepped up from where they stood to hold Trevor away from the man sitting at the table.

"Hey, don't start shit in my house, T," Michael said. "They clearly know each other, and if you listen to him, you just might learn who he is."

"I'll tell you all who I am," he announced, Karen sitting back down in front of him. "Name's Patrick McReary. I'm from Dukes out of Liberty City. I'm Irish. And I'm usually in a bunch of bullshit. I came all the way across the country to still be in shit and I would have never thought Karen here would still be the one to save me from the bullshit."

She smiled at him again, tending to small cuts on his arm. "That's the nicest way I've ever heard you be described."

"Yeah, well, I'm working on it. Don't hold me to it."

Trevor couldn't look at this guy for another minute. And he certainly couldn't take Karen touching him. He went back into the living room, Michael and Franklin following him, and he swiftly picked up the beer he was drinking, downing the rest of it in one go.

"Fuck," he said, setting the empty bottle down before the craving to throw it took over.

Back in the kitchen, Karen stood at the sink, washing her hands.

"That should hold up for right now, Packie, until you can get a decent shower and clean clothes. Where are you staying?"

"That's the thing, Karen," he started. "I know how this will sound, but I don't have a place. I'm staying with a friend, sleeping on their couch."

"Why don't you stay with us? We've got extra rooms," she offered, leaning on kitchen island as they spoke.

"You live with crazy dude who's ready to rip my fucking head off?" he asked, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

"Hey, what did you say, you fuck?" Trevor's voice came.

Karen approached where Trevor was walking towards, once again placing her hands on his chest to stop him.

"Trevor, you can't keep doing this," she told him. "He's a good friend of mine, and he's going to be a guest in our home. You have to calm down."

"How can I calm down when he's being an asshole?" Trevor called out.

"Well, he should fit right in then," Franklin said to them as he approached them. "You good, Karen? Need me to help you pick up any other random people you know?"

"Frankie, my life before coming here was insane. You will probably meet even more people I knew from back in the day."

"I'm heading up out of here," he said, walking to the front door.

"I'll see you out, Frankie," Michael told him.

Karen turned her attention back to Trevor.

"Are you going to behave? Packie and I are just friends. I've known him forever."

Trevor studied the Irishman again, his mouth setting in a displeased frown.

"Fine," he finally relented. "But it's only because my Kitten is vouching for you. If she wasn't, I would have stomped your fucking skull in by now. Wouldn't be the first time I've caved a head in from people out your way."

"I'm sure it's not," Packie agreed, turning to Karen. "You got some man calling you a kitten and shit, Karen? What the fuck, my girl."

"Your what?" Trevor asked right before Karen blocked him again.

"We're going to go now," she said, bringing Trevor in for a kiss. He did so while keeping his glare on Packie. "I'm going to take Packie back to the house. Don't bother coming home if you're going to keep this mean attitude."

Trevor's eyes locked onto hers. "Nothing is going to stop me from coming home to you."

"I mean it, Trevor."

"So do I."

She placed one more kiss on Trevor's lips before waving a hand at Packie. "Come on, I'll show you around where we live."