Mark sprang from the bed and tugged on his jeans that were draped over the end of the bed. He grabbed his sweater and jacket ant stomped out of her apartment. Mark didn't bother to slide his jacket on as he ran home to his Avenue B apartment. Climbing the stairs to the top he flung open the sliding door. Roger sat contently on the tattered couch strumming his fender.
"Rog I need you help can you come here?" Mark mumbled and Roger didn't even bother to look up as he walked over to where Mark was standing in the kitchen.
"Wow didn't even bother to get dressed? Was it that good?"
"You'd know!" Mark stepped closer to him and swung a fist hitting Roger's jaw. Roger stumbled back but swung back at Mark hitting his in the chest. The boys swung back and forth until Mark stumbled over his own feet and hit the floor hard. Mark kicked about on the floor knocking at Roger's shins.
"Mark. Man." Roger offered a hand to the fallen boy. Mark pushed it away and scrambled it to his feet. He pushed passed Roger and out the door. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to strumming his fender.
The Loft door slid open and feet scuffed across the floor.
"Rog?" it was Collins. "Man you look like hell." He hopped the couch and plopped down next him.
"Mark came home all pissed and fucking punched me!"
"What did you do?" Collins mumbled and propped his feet up on the unsteady coffee table.
"That's the thing I don't even know. He came home and hit me." He sighed and slipped further down in the cushions of the couch. The phone buzzed loudly in the open loft. Collins jumped slightly.
"We screen." It was too late the machine picked up.
"Speak."
"Mark? Are you there it's me plea-."
"Who's that?"
"Maureen." He picked up.
"Marky I…OH Roger. Where's is Mark."
"He stomped out just after trying to beat the crap out of me. What happened?" There was a long pause on the other end.
"He found out." There was silence again but on the Loft line and a click. Roger hung up.
"What did she say?" Collins inquired from the couch.
"She doesn't know." Roger wouldn't meet his deep gaze.
"Roger…"
"I'm leaving." He threw his leather jacket over his shoulder. The phone rang.
"Speak."
"Roger Davis!" it was Cindy, Mark's sister. "Pick up this phone right now!"