Something twisted in Rogan’s chest as he
watched Mark disappear into the night. He wanted to go after him, make sure he
got home alright. But he still had a mess to deal with here. He reached down
and picked up the overturned table, apologizing to the people who had been
sitting at it, wanting to chuckle that several were covered in various liquids.
The floor didn’t appear to be even wet. Mark had to have been covered in it
too. He offered to buy the table new drinks since he would have to go get a
broom and dustpan from the bar to sweep up the broken glass.
“Why would you buy them new drinks,” Leon
demanded from behind Rogan. “That idiot, Mark, is the one who made this mess.
Not you!”
Oh yeah. that too. Leon was still here.
“Mark is not an idiot and he didn’t make the
mess, Leon. And didn’t I tell you to go sit down?” Rogan walked to the bar to
ask for the broom and dustpan, Leon on his heals.
“Where are you going? What are you doing?”
“Leon, are you going to do what I tell you?”
“What did you tell me?”
Rogan sighed and shook his head as he stopped
the bartender, broom and dustpan in hand, on his way back to the mess. “Let me handle
that.” he told him.
“Oh no, Sir. I’ll do it.”
“You have customers. Plus, I’m buying that
table new drinks. I would appreciate it if you would get their order.” Rogan
took the broom from the bartender who clearly wanted to object.
“But… if Anna…”
“Anna doesn’t have to find out.” Rogan
motioned for the bartender to go ahead of him.
Leon gasped behind him. “You’re going to… clean?”
Rogan didn’t even glance at him as he followed
behind the bartender.
“I’m not kidding, Rogan,” Leon continued. “Why
are you cleaning up that idiot’s mess? And he did cause it, flirting with a drunk. I never knew what a slut he is.
But I suppose that’s the only way he could get a man. I’m incredibly embarrassed I used to date him. Pity dating. That’s what
it was. I felt sorry for him.”
Rogan began to sweep the floor, half ignoring
Leon’s rant. Pity dating? Hardly. Mark was beautiful and could have had any man
in the room. All he would have to do was gaze at any one of them with those
stark green eyes of his. And with that cute freckled nose and high cheek bones?
Not to mention his messy dark blonde hair? He’d have them groveling at his
feet.
But yes, the man attacking Mark was drunk.
Would most likely have passed out long before he could have done any physical
damage. But the mental damage was what worried Rogan. Mark was unable to escape
the man and he had already been embarrassed enough by Leon’s rejection.
By Leon’s lies.
Rogan never truly believed Leon when he told
him Mark beat him. There were never any bruises or marks at all that proved it.
Not that Leon had to prove it. Any
form of abuse was never acceptable. So when the irritating little twink came to
him and asked him to protect him, claiming that his ex-boyfriend had battered him
and was now stalking him, Rogan said he would.
Then he met Mark.
Barely bigger that Leon, he seemed adorable
and harmless, standing there outside the place where they both worked pleading
for Leon to give him another chance. Leon had texted Rogan to hurry to come and
pick him up because he was frightened of this Mark. But seeing the man Leon
described as a monster just about in tears, wringing his hands, shifting from
foot to foot, Rogan felt foolish demanding Mark leave Leon alone.
Rogan would never forget the expression of
defeat and embarrassment on Mark’s face as he turned and hurried away.
Similar to what Rogan experienced with Mark again
a few minutes ago.
Rogan sighed and excused himself to the people
at the table as he swept under it to get the pieces of glass he knew were there.
Only when he dragged them out, the glass came with a companion.
Is
that a wallet?
“Hey,” he stooped to pick up the what he
thought was a leather tri-fold. It ended up being faux leather. And very
tattered. “This belong to any of you?” Rogan showed it to the table of
customers. They all shook their heads even as they reached into their bags or back
pockets to make sure.
Hmm. Strange. He pocketed it until he was able
to examine it. He had a feeling he knew who it belonged to. Rogan finished
cleaning up the mess just as Anna walked up. Her straight dark hair was swinging,
her big brown eyes were flashing. Being much shorter than Rogan she was still
someone to pay attention to as she planted her fists on her hips and glared up
at him.
“Rogan Stone,
what are you doing?”
“Anna. Nice to see you,” he smiled as he made
a couple more swipes with the broom.
“Give me that broom right now. Where’s Tom?”
She glanced toward the bar, trying in vain to see over Rogan’s height.
“You mean your new bartender? Getting these good
patrons here a round of drinks.” He nodded toward the people at the table when
they cheered at his announcement. “As for the broom? I’m finished with it.” He
stooped to scoop up the mess into the dustpan.
“What happened?” she growled, following Rogan
as he made his way back to the bar. Once they arrived, Anna yanked the broom
and dustpan away from him and walked behind the bar to dump the broken glass in
the waste basket. “Am I going to be sued?”
Rogan chuckled. Anna was the owner of the bar
and also the hidden, very busy dungeon underneath it. To look at her, she
seemed demure. Hardly anyone to glance twice at. But, in reality, she was a
master Dom and had been instrumental in Rogan discovering his true nature. Some
years back Rogan had the privilege of being personally tutored under her expert
hand. Something he would be eternally grateful for. She opened The Ship Yard
intending for it to be separate from her dungeon. She taught him to never mix
play with liquor. But space was expensive and it was easier to monitor that
kind of thing when she stood at the secret door.
“No. Probably not.” He chuckled again.
“Probably not? What the fuck happened?”
