Mark arrived home a little after eight but stopped
at the door to his apartment. It was not only unlocked but partially open. With
his heart in his throat, not knowing what to expect, he pushed the door slightly
to see more of the inside before going in. He knew he should just go back down
to the lobby and call the police. Very obviously someone had broken in… except…
the door was not broken… Mark peered inside.
Mark’s apartment was basically all one big
room. Well – not big, just long. His white pristine kitchen lined up on his
right with the fridge, sink then stove. He had a small oval white plastic table
surrounded by three mismatched chairs against the wall on his left. The living room was farther in with a dark
brown faux leather couch on the left wall and a lawn chair sitting toward the
middle of the room semi-facing the couch. In front of the couch Mark had a
coffee table he had rescued from the dumpster sitting on a rug he got at Target
on clearance. On the wall directly in front of the couch and to the side of the
chair, he had his only big purchase. A forty-inch flat screen TV. The end wall
beyond his living room Mark often wished was glass doors onto a balcony, but it
was a big window so nice natural light entered the room. His apartment was efficient,
clean and uncluttered.
At least it had been when he left. Now it was
a mess.
His dining table was tipped over along with
all the chairs. The bills and the rest of his accumulated important papers that
had been laying on top of it were now all over the place. The pillows for the
couch were scattered around the room as if the thing had exploded and his
coffee table was broken in half as if someone had jumped up and down in the
center of it. The few plants he had to add color to the space were now lying crushed,
dirt strewn everywhere on his laminated wood floor. Even his TV was hanging
crooked.
“What the fuck did you do?” Mark gasped.
Because Leon was sitting on the lawn chair, the only piece of furniture still standing
upright.
The expression on Leon’s face was dark, a look
Mark knew well. The smaller man was pissed. He had been on his cell prior to
gracing Mark with his full attention, clearly texting someone. So like Leon to
ignore Mark the first few minutes he was with him. There was always someone
else that was more important; another conversation that took precedence over
anything he had going with Mark. And Mark always marveled how Leon could use
both thumbs as fast as he did when he texted while Mark struggled with one
finger.
But now Leon was fully focused on Mark and he held
up a tiny piece of yellow paper between two fingers as he pocketed his phone.
“What the fuck is this?” he snarled.
“What?” Mark had no clue what the piece of
paper was. “I don’t know. What is it?” Was this some stupid game?
“Funny. You’re a funny man, Mark. Where did
you get this? Huh? Did you make this up?”
Make
up what? Mark marched forward
toward Leon. The paper the man held was familiar, but he still didn’t know what
it was. Although when he reached for it after he was close enough, he saw that
it had been crumpled up and then smoothed out. Leon snatched it away before Mark
was able to grab it. Exasperated, Mark fumed, “How the hell do I tell you what
it is when you won’t show it to me?” But Mark did finally recognize it. It was
the post-it note with Rogan’s name and number on it.
“Oh, don’t be stupid. You know exactly what it is. Now tell me what it
was doing on your fridge!”
He shouldn’t do it. He should just stay quiet.
He had learned it was the only way he could possibly avoid a total meltdown
from Leon. But Leon had gone insane with all the shit he pulled on Friday and
now this? Messing up his apartment? Who the fuck did he think he was? For
someone who proclaimed he wanted nothing to do with Mark anymore, someone who
was supposed to actually be afraid of him, he was spending a lot of time
chasing Mark down. It was going to feel good revealing how it was Mark came
into possession of that tiny piece of paper. Mark lifted his chin. “Rogan gave
it to me.”
“Bullshit! You’re a fucking liar!”
“Oh no I’m not, Leon. That title actually
belongs solely to you. Rogan came here on Friday to return my wallet and we
talked. Seemed he isn’t your boyfriend after all, is he? That’s what he told
me. You and he are not dating. Never
did. You’re the liar, Leon. You lied about everything. About me attacking you and
about having a new boyfriend.” Crap, but that felt good. “Oh, and another
thing. Jenny told the truth about me harassing you at work, in that it didn’t happen!”
“I did not
lie.” Leon articulated as he rose unhurriedly to his feet in front of Mark, his
tone of voice tranquil and low. Not a good sign. “Rogan is my boyfriend. Not you. You and I are history.”
“Yes. I agree to that. It’s been history for a
while, now. And you know what, Leon? I’m not upset about it anymore. I feel
sorry for you that you have to make up a boyfriend to try and make me jealous.
I just don’t care anymore.”
Leon screamed while scrunching his fists at
his side. Mark flinched and stepped back, fearing he may have pushed the
situation too far. Leon’s eyes flashed his obvious rage as he glared at Mark. “Made up a boyfriend?” he screeched
through clenched teeth. “I did not
make up a boyfriend.”
“You know what? I honestly don’t care. What I
want to know is why did you do this
to my apartment? Are you just fucking crazy?” He really needed to shut up. Why
couldn’t he stop?
Leon glanced at the mess then seemingly at the
door to the hallway which was still hanging open behind Mark. Had the elevator
just dinged? “No,” Leon said instantly calm. “I didn’t do this.” He gazed at
Mark. “Not alone, anyway. Well – that will be the story I tell…” He lowered
himself to sit on the chair again, leaving a confused Mark to gaze down on him.
“What? Story you’ll tell. What the hell does
that mean…” But suddenly Leon was tipping over backwards in the chair. Mark instinctively
reached out to grab him so he wouldn’t hurt himself but ended up falling with
Leon and tumbling out onto the floor, the chair busting beneath their combined
weight with a loud thwack.
Somehow Mark ended up on top of Leon.
He tried to roll off, but Leon grabbed Mark
and pulled him close, screaming that Mark needed to let him go. Fuck! He was
trying to, but Leon was not letting him. What the hell was wrong with this guy?
Why was it that Leon seemed to be hanging onto him?
But a second later, Mark found out.
A strong arm came around his waist and he was
being hauled up off the floor and off Leon. That same arm flung him to the side
and Mark tumbled and landed hard on his ass in front of his couch. Mark glanced
up into Rogan’s very pissed-of face.
“What the hell are you doing, Mark? Damn it! Leon get up. Get behind me.”
While Leon scrambled to his feet, a smirk on his face, Rogan turned on Mark. “I
asked you a question, boy. What do you think you were doing?”
“See Rogan?” Leon cried out, his voice quavering
as if he were near tears. “I told you
he beat me! You saw it firsthand.”
Mark just sat there stunned. Beat Leon? What? And Rogan was here? He gaped up at him. “What are you doing…?” But he finally
understood. All of it. Mark was once again on his ass, staring at a sneering
Leon standing behind Rogan who clearly believed he was protecting him. Again.
Leon had orchestrated the whole thing.
Again!
“What do you mean what am I doing’?” Rogan roared as he indicated the messy room. “Are you
trying to kill him?”
Mark laughed. Hard. He leaned back on his
pillow-less couch and just let go. “Oh my God, Leon,” he managed as tears ran down
his face. From the laughing, he told
himself. The tears are from laughing.
“That’s who you were texting, wasn’t it? Sitting on the only chair you didn’t
turn over you texted Rogan.” Mark got himself under control as he wiped his
face. Sitting up, Mark gazed up at Rogan. “And where were you, huh? You
certainly got here pretty quick, so you had to be close. Leon had to know that too
for this to have worked this well.”
