Mark

 

Mark switched his shifts around so that he was always at the bar when Stella was, so that Cameron couldn’t come by and make her feel uncomfortable without having to deal with the consequences. About a week went by with no incidents. Just regular drunks getting too inebriated here and there, but most of the time it was a peaceful job, if a bit boring.

 

Unfortunately, it got a lot more interesting a week later.

 

Mark was standing by the door, checking IDs and making sure nobody was already too drunk to go in and give the Haven their business, when a guy that he recognized from a picture at Stella’s apartment appeared. Cameron. Mark straightened up in the doorway, stretching up to his full height and squaring his shoulders like he used to do when he was preparing himself to walk into battle.

 

There were three or four Marauders behind Cameron. At least Mark assumed that was who they were, looking all menacing in leather jackets as they approached the Haven. But Mark wasn’t worried. They were all pretty shrimpy looking, except Cameron. If things turned ugly, Mark could handle it, especially if the other bouncer waiting inside got involved.

 

Cameron finally walked up to the door, holding his ID out for Mark. “Hey, there, haven’t seen you around town. You new here?”

 

“Yep,” Mark said tersely, not even pretending to check the ID held out in front him. “Listen, guys, I’m afraid we’re at capacity tonight. You should head out, find somewhere else to drink.”

 

Something flickered over Cameron’s face, some mixture of surprise and anger that went away as quickly as it appeared. “Aw, that’s a shame,” Cameron said, shrugging sheepishly in the vague direction of his friends. “Well, what do you say we just wait outside here for people to come out? I got to imagine some drunk bitches will stumble out of here soon enough, am I right?”

 

“It’s bar policy,” Mark said, shaking his head, “to let women in ahead of men. Good for business. You understand.”

 

Cameron clicked his teeth impatiently, his eyebrow furrowing up even as he tried to keep the rest of his face calm and placid. “Well, look, I know you must get this a lot, but how much will it take to let me into the club? $10? $20? $50? Come on, name it. I really want to enjoy the atmosphere, you know.”

 

Mark offered a tight, apologetic smile that must have looked as insincere as it felt. “No, sorry, no can do. Why don’t you try to come back another night, maybe? We’re awfully busy around here, though. Maybe another bar is more your speed.”

 

Cameron maintained eye contact with Mark, his eyes narrowing a little as they stared into each other’s pupils. Out of the corner of Mark’s eye he could tell that Cameron’s hands had balled up into fists, and he felt his body go tense as he anticipated the first blow.

 

But the next second, Cameron seemed to relax, all of the air seeping out of his body like a popped balloon. “Well, hey, actually I’m not really here for the nightlife, to be honest with you. I’d like to talk to the owner, you know, about business opportunities. I’m always looking to partner up with ambitious young entrepreneurs. Why don’t you go on and get him, huh? Just let him know it’s Cameron, the guy he spoke with last week.” He smiled broadly.

 

Mark considered his options for a long moment, staring at Cameron before lifting his gaze up to look at the vaguely menacing-looking meatheads that he had lined up behind him, obviously ready for a rumble. Mark had no doubt that if he turned into the building to go get Wesley, one of these slimy motherfuckers would be tempted to hit him in the back of his head when he wasn’t looking. Mark just had an intuition about this sort of thing, an ability to see the impulses and thoughts of other people, whether he wanted to or not.

 

“You can wait outside,” Mark finally said, pointing to the other side of the building. “There, so you don’t get in the way of other people on their way out.”

 

Cameron looked like he was going to resist for a second, opening his mouth to retort, but then finally he just nodded and gestured for the other Marauders to follow him. Mark supposed that Cameron must have calculated his odds, or at the very least decided that the costs of fighting Mark weren’t worth it at this moment in time. As soon as Cameron and his pathetic crew went over to the other side of the building, away from the door, Mark reached into his pocket for his phone, quickly texting Wesley about the situation.

 

Within two minutes, Wesley came out, looking up at Mark worriedly before gesturing for Cameron and the Marauders to head in his direction, a few yards away from the front door of the bar. Mark stepped forward, just in case things got dicey and Wesley needed any help.

 

“What can I do for you tonight, guys?” Wesley said, blowing into his fists to warm up his hands, which were otherwise unprotected against the cold outside air.

 

“Well, I was wondering if you gave any thought to what we discussed last time,” Cameron said, rocking back on his heels like he was utterly comfortable, as relaxed as could be talking down to Wesley.

 

“I haven’t,” Wesley said, shaking his head and blowing out his breath. He looked as calm as could be expected, really, under the circumstances, but Mark could tell that he was on edge. “I haven’t had to think about it anymore because my answer is the same. It’s not going to change. I don’t need a business partner right now. Sorry.”

 

“Hmm,” Cameron said, clicking his tongue. “That’s really unfortunate.”

 

“Uh…” Wesley said, appearing to lose his composure a little bit at Cameron’s strange response.

 

“It’s just such a shame, Wesley,” Cameron said, shaking his head as if he felt genuine disappointment. “It’s just so unfortunate because I really thought this place had potential, you know? I really thought it could be something.”

 

Wesley said nothing, staying still as Cameron began to pace a little back and forth in front of him.

 

“See, it’s in a great location. That’s the best part about it. You really snapped up a treasure here, Wesley, my boy. It’d be such a shame if something were to happen, you know, to such a fine establishment.”

 

Wesley turned to look back at Mark for a moment, his eyes narrowing with realization, like he only now recognized what a scumbag Cameron was, what a threat he posed to the Haven. “And what are you suggesting is going to happen to the Haven?” Wesley asked, clearly fighting to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

 

Cameron shrugged, smiling a little crookedly as he stared at Wesley. “There’s an awful lot of MCs in the tristate area, you know. Lot of competing forces at play here, Wesley. You wouldn’t want to get into the crossfire. Believe me.”

 

“I’m not getting into any crossfire,” Wesley said, shaking his head, straightening his shoulders up as he attempted to stand up to Cameron. “The Haven is neutral, and it’s going to stay that way, okay? That means it’s an MC-free zone. No clubs are welcome to come here. Including the Marauders.”

 

“Mm, I see,” Cameron said, smirking meanly as he nodded his head, narrowing his eyes at Wesley until they were just slits on his face. “You’re an idiot. See, I didn’t know that before. Now that I’m aware of it, I can change tactics. Thank you for helping me see the light, Wesley.”

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Wesley said, but his voice came out a bit higher and squeakier than he probably intended.

 

“This town is protected by the Marauders. Has been for decades. We’ve poured our blood, sweat, and tears into the soil here, and that makes this place our home. No other MCs are going to cross into this town, and you’re definitely not smart enough to keep it from happening on your own. If we can’t protect this place, we’ll burn it to the ground. With or without you standing outside with us.” Cameron shrugged again, a superficially friendly expression crossing his face as he walked a bit closer to Wesley, until barely a foot separated their bodies. “You just think about it a little more, huh? Maybe a week? Maybe two? Think it over. Really consider if you want to keep this place or not. Then let me know. You’ll know where to find me.”

 

He turned and started heading across the road, but just as Wesley turned back around, looking up at Mark with unmasked terror on his face, Cameron turned around and yelled something in his direction. “Hey, say hi to Stella for me, will you? I know she’s working tonight. She’s my girl, you know.” Then he broke into a run, dashing toward his bike before he roared off into the cold night, his buddies in tow.

 

Mark watched as Wesley’s expression changed, anger replacing the worry that was written across it seconds before. His jaw set and his hands clenched into fists as he marched past Mark, shoving his way back into the bar. Mark didn’t know what he was about to do, but he had enough sense to follow him. The door could watch itself for right now.

 

“Stella!” Wesley shouted as soon as he entered the main room of the bar. “Stella, my office! Now!”

 

Various bar customers looked up from their drinks, some of them looking scared and concerned, while others grinned at the display of workplace drama right in front of them. Mark watched as Stella visibly swallowed, putting down the rag she was using to wipe down the bar counters before she walked around the bar to follow Wesley back towards his office.

 

Mark followed them without saying anything, barely slipping into the room right before the door slammed shut behind Wesley, who must have noticed that Mark came with him but chose not to address it right now. He was clearly more concerned with shouting in Stella’s face, blaming her for what had just happened. But at first, he simply spoke calmly and softly, deceptively hiding the rage that simmered beneath the surface.

 

“So it’s you. It’s all you,” Wesley murmured barely audibly, his eyes glued to the floor of his own office, while Stella looked at him with wide, worried, confused eyes.

 

“Sir, I’m not sure I understand,” Stella started to say, stuttering a little over the words.

 

“The Marauders!” Wesley shouted without warning, his voice booming so loud in the office that the customers outside in the main room of the bar could probably hear his words. “The fucking motorcycle club you brought here! You dropped this bullshit on my doorstep! Now I have to deal with this like I’m in the middle of a goddamned gang war.”

 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Stella stuttered out, her voice sounding weirdly clogged, like she was fighting back tears. “I didn’t know this would happen. Really, honestly, I had no idea!”

 

“Well, save it,” Wesley spat at her. “All you’ve brought me is trouble since you first came here.” He paused, staring at her, maybe feeling a little hesitation as she appeared to crumble before him. “I’m sorry, Stella. But can’t you see I only have one option here? What else can you expect me to do?”

 

Stella nodded slowly, seeming to accept her fate as the light dimmed in her eyes, her fingers visibly trembling as they moved to her waist, attempting to remove the apron that she wore as a part of her uniform.

 

“Wait. Wesley, wait,” Mark said, stepping in between them and encouraging Stella to go stand against the wall and collect herself. “Now, look. Think about what you’re doing here.”

 

“I have,” Wesley said defensively. “This place has been doing great. Everything would be perfect if we didn’t have that stupid biker gang breathing down our necks. She brought them here. Maybe they’ll go away if she leaves.”

 

“Think about what you’re saying, Wesley!” Mark protested, reaching forward to grab Wesley by the shoulders. He saw his boss flinch a little, like he was expecting Mark to hurt him, but he was careful not to squeeze him too tightly or threaten him in any way. In any other situation, Mark would have been tempted to use his considerable physical strength to get what he wanted, but for some reason he cared too deeply about this job to ever jeopardize it like that.

 

“Listen to me. First of all, it’s not Stella’s fault. Sooner or later Cameron and his stupid band of cronies would have heard about this place. They would have heard that it was doing well, no matter who your fucking bartender is. They would have come sniffing around here sooner or later, and then you’d be in the same situation that you’re in now, juggling everything between different MCs, hoping none of them get the drop on you.”

 

Wesley narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, probably considering the logic of Mark’s argument. So Mark pressed onward, moving to his second point.

 

“And, anyway, even if that weren’t true, what is firing Stella going to accomplish for you now? Really, think about that. What is it going to do for you? You think Cameron’s just going to step off now, leave you alone? Fuck no! This place makes money, and more importantly it’d be a sign to the other MCs in the area that they’re top dog. There’s no way they’re just going to disappear now, even if you kick Stella out onto the street.”

 

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do, then?” Wesley yelled, his face going red as he stared at Mark expectantly.

 

“Show them they’re not the fucking boss of you,” Mark said, the words coming to him seconds before they left his mouth. He didn’t know that he thought all this, but as soon as he said it he realized that it was the truth. It was what he believed. Fighting for the Haven. “Show them that you’re not scared of them. That you’re not going to be bullied and pushed around by a bunch of losers on some motorcycles. Can you do that? Can you do it, Wesley? Can you stand up for what’s rightfully fucking yours?”

 

Wesley bit his lip, looking from Mark over to Stella, who stood still and silent over by the door. “You could have told me about them, you know,” Wesley said to Stella. “You could have warned me, back when you interviewed for the job. I didn’t know there were fucking MCs in this town.”

 

Stella sighed deeply and nodded. “I know. I should have said something. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to get involved in this mess. I can… I can just go…” She began to head for the door, but Mark stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, firmly tugging at her until she backed up, away from the doorway.

 

“No,” Mark said. “You’re not going to fucking quit, either. Can’t you see what’s happening? They’re intimidating the two of you. They want you to feel this way. They want you to roll over and do whatever they want. Aren’t you fucking sick of it, being bossed around, told what to do by someone who shouldn’t have any authority over you at all? Aren’t you sick of it?”

 

Wesley and Stella looked at each other, crossing their arms and shrugging as if they were sharing the same thought. It was like they knew Mark was right, but they were unwilling to concede to his terms just yet.

 

Mark kept going anyway. “If you fire Stella now, or if you quit or whatever, they win. He wins! He gets what he wants out of you, because all he wants right now is to terrify you. That’s how fucking weak and pathetic he is, that he depends on scaring other people to feel stronger. Don’t you want to fuck with him? Come on, guys. We can do this!” Mark had no idea where the enthusiasm he felt was coming from, but he was certain that he hadn’t felt this passionate about anything in years, not since he signed up for the Army as a young man.

 

Wesley finally sighed and nodded, walking around his desk and pulling out an aged bottle of whiskey, pouring out shots for all of them. “You’re right. Fine. I admit it.” Mark would have felt smug if Wesley didn’t still seem so defeated. “You can stay on, Stella. As long as there’s a Haven, at the very least.”

 

“Thank you,” Stella murmured softly, stepping forward to take one of the shots off Wesley’s desk and downing it in a few seconds. “Jesus, I needed that.”

 

Mark leaned down to take his as well. “We can fight this, Wesley.”

 

“How?” Wesley said blankly, finishing his shot and pouring himself a second one, then a third, all in a row, grimacing a little at the taste as he downed them in quick succession. “How can we fight this? One way or another, I’m losing Haven, right? Either they’re going to burn it down or they’re going to take it over. I don’t want my bar to be a front for a fucking gang. Is that too much to ask?”

 

Mark wasn’t sure what to say. He now felt more invigorated than ever, committed to this new workplace as if he’d sworn an oath to protect it. But despite his confidence that they could put up a fight, that there was still a chance they could protect the place from the Marauders, he didn’t have a plan yet. At all. There was nothing he could really say to placate Wesley’s fears or to reassure him that they weren’t going to be controlled by the toughest MC in town.

 

For now, he just nodded at Stella to follow him back out into the main room of the bar. “Take the rest of the night off, Wesley,” Mark said, clapping Wesley on the shoulder as reassuringly as he could. “We’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

 

Mark and Stella walked back out to the bar, where most of the customers had already left. There were a few stragglers still drinking, chatting up the other bartender on duty tonight, but they just settled into a dark corner to talk. “Do you really believe what you said in there?” Stella whispered under her breath.

 

“I do,” Mark said, feeling himself blush a little bit as he admitted the truth. “But we got to come up with something. Wesley’s right. If we don’t act soon, we’re totally fucked. They’re going to take over the bar and then…”

 

“The whole town,” Stella concluded for him, cupping her forehead in her hands and closing her eyes, exhaustion written all over her worn out face.

 

“Yeah,” Mark said. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her, to work the tension she was feeling out of her muscles and bones. But for some reason he still felt hesitant to touch her like that in public. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed, exactly, about other people knowing. After all, given how loud they were the first time they fucked, most of the people who worked here, at the very least, had to have some idea, along with the alcoholic regulars who stopped by every day.

 

But Mark was keenly aware that he was in danger of crossing into new territory with Stella. He was already calling her “baby” and “my good girl” in bed, like he’d already lost his goddamn mind. It was ridiculous. And scary. And pathetic, so pathetic that he was letting those words spill out of his mouth even when all of the blood in his body had abandoned his brain in favor of his cock. He couldn’t afford to show affection in other ways, lest Stella get the wrong idea about the two of them.

 

It’s not serious, Mark told himself as Stella looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes, eyes that just begged him to reach down and take care of her. It’s not serious. It’s just a casual thing. We’re just fucking. We’re just fooling around. We’re friends who mess around with each other. That’s all it is. Really.

 

But he still had to bite down hard on his tongue to avoid asking Stella to come sleep at his place again. He would hold off for tonight, deny himself what he wanted, just to keep both of them safe.

 

After all, someone like Stella deserved better. She could do better than a car crash walking around, pretending to be a person.

 

That’s all Mark was, underneath.