Scene III
SCENE III
OTHELLO
T he sleeping figure in the hospital bed slowly became aware of the rhythmic beeping of machines. He pried his eyes open, squinting as they connected with an unfamiliar white ceiling. From the sound of the machines beeping in his ears, he was in the hospital.
So I didn’t die.
The events of what happened last night came back to him. He recalled the ambush and being shot in the chest during the meeting with the Falcon clan. His chest felt tight, but it didn’t hurt. He thanked all the gods in the universe for whatever drug he was on. In all his years being a part of the La Famiglia Romano, he never thought he’d see himself in the hospital, laid flat out on his back, staring up at the white ceiling because of a bullet wound to the chest. They had gone in unprepared. Usually, Othello would have worn a bulletproof vest when they met with other clans or worn one of his suits that was made out of Kevlar. The suits were not foolproof since they were made to handle low-caliber rounds, but he might not have ended up in the hospital. Some would say it was karma for all the shit he’d done to people over the years, but he wasn’t above telling those same people to go fuck themselves.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to sit up but decided not to when he felt a slight twinge in his chest. Instead, Othello stayed in his position, vowing to find out what the fuck happened and who was behind it. He did not doubt that the don was already looking into things, but it didn’t make him feel any better when what went down last night shouldn’t have happened. He opened his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the brightness before turning his head and scanning his surroundings. He paused when he spotted Tallen and Marco sitting on the couch, passed out asleep.
He decided not to wake them, knowing they were tired from the night’s events and keeping watch over him. Othello turned his gaze to the window and looked out at the beautiful blue sky. He was genuinely happy to see it, even though he had been prepared to die. Life and death in his world were nothing new. He’d known what could happen when he chose this route as a career. He and Iago, who was his brother of heart, not blood, were taken in by a crime organization when they were thirteen, and they didn’t regret it at all.
Thinking of Iago, he was sure his brother was doing the job that Othello could not do at the moment, which was protecting the boss, their adopted father, while trying not to go ballistic on whoever ambushed them. The only clan that knew where they were meeting was Falcon. But Othello didn’t want to think the Falcons had anything to do with the ambush. He just hoped Iago didn’t act before he thought things through. Right now, their father needed a level-headed thinker. Iago was a fucking hothead. He’d been that way since they were children. He and Iago had been thick as thieves since they were kids and met in the group home where he had been placed after the death of his parents.
The memory of his parents' deaths was fragmented, like a shattered mirror, but a few images remained vivid. Even after becoming an adult, hiring a private investigator, and seeing their pictures, he still couldn’t capture a memory of them. But he knew his father was a low-level member of a crime organization that had long since been taken out of the game. So, he was destined to be a part of a crime syndicate. He often wondered if he’d made his father proud that he followed in his footsteps. From the reports, the accident had nothing to do with what his father did for a living.
He was eight years old, sitting in the back seat of his parents’ car; they were driving back from getting ice cream, a dessert Othello could not enjoy to this day because it brought back the pain of his parents’ deaths. They had done something fun, like going to an amusement park or the playground, but Othello couldn’t remember. He recalled the sound of rain pattering against the windows, his mother humming along to a song on the radio, and then the sudden, violent impact followed by darkness and silence. When he woke up, everything in his little life had changed. He was in a hospital bed, surrounded by strangers. His parents were nowhere to be seen. He had asked for his mother and father, and the strangers, who he later found out were child services, told him they were watching over him.
What kind of shit is that to tell a kid who just lost his parents?
He got a few scrapes and sore muscles from the accident, but that was it. Since no one told him how his parents died when he was a kid, when he got older, Othello did his research and found out they were hit by a drunk driver who tried to run away from the scene but was hit and killed by another car. Unfortunately for Othello, his parents had no other living relatives, so he became a ward of the state. He was instantly placed in the Willow-Brook group home, receiving millions in donations from wealthy people who wanted to make it look like they were contributing to something good in society.
Willow-Brook was well-equipped and maintained and surrounded by many trees, making it look like it was in the middle of a forest, or that’s what he looked like to Othello when he was a kid. It wasn’t posh, but it also wasn’t rundown where they had to scramble for food and clothing even though they slept two or three to a room and wore hand-me-downs. It was livable, and he didn’t have to be afraid, even if some of the kids thought it was haunted. As an adult, he now knew it was an old mansion given to the owners of Willow-Brook, where he’d met Iago, who was the same age as him.
Iago had arrived a few months before Othello. Iago’s parents had died in a fire that had started in their home while they were sleeping. Firefighters had been able to rescue Iago, but not his parents. Iago and Othello instantly bonded, forming a friendship that stood the test of time. Including Iago and Othello, there were twelve children altogether, considering there was a rotation of kids coming in and getting adopted. Even with enough staff on hand, twenty-four-seven, Ms. Mooney expected them to help with the younger ones and do their daily chores.
Othello had been at the group home for two days before anyone spoke to him. He had never been one of those kids who rushed to make friends. The first person who spoke to him was Iago. Othello was sitting on the swing in the backyard, thinking and missing his parents, when Iago walked over to him.
“Hey, want to go somewhere really cool?” Iago whispered, looking around to see if anyone was watching them . “I haven’t shown it to the other kids, because I don’t want to tell Ms. Mooney.”
Othello looked at Iago skeptically, who had dark hair and eyes, before nodding. Hopping off the swing, he followed Iago to a small, hidden corner of the expansive backyard. Lifting one of the loose boards on the fence, Iago squeezed through it and motioned for Othello to follow. For a second, Othello wouldn’t do so because he remembered the rules that they were not allowed to leave the property without one of the staff members.
He had never gone against an adult’s word before, but he was bored and curious about where the other kid wanted to take him, so he squeezed his body through the fence. Iago took off running the second he was through, and Othello was right behind him. He wasn’t sure how far they ran, but he could see signs of Willow-Brook if he glanced back. When they finally stopped, it was in front of a lake, and he had to admit it was freaking cool. Seconds later, there was a splash. Turning to the sound, he saw Iago splashing around in the water shirtless.
“Come on,” Iago shouted. “Stop standing around.” He went back to playing in the lake.
Not thinking about anything, he’d stripped down to his undies and followed Iago, who laughed and played for hours, forgetting about the time and everyone else. They had snuck back into the home without being caught, but it had only lasted a few more times until the staff found out about their escape route. They got in trouble, and he got grounded for the first time in his life.
After the staff fixed the broken fence, they found other ways to get into trouble. They were inseparable, from sneaking into the kitchen to steal cookies to playing pranks on the other kids. Whatever Iago wanted to do, Othello followed, since he was taller and seemed bigger. Until one day, Othello grew just as tall as Iago, becoming his equal. But Iago was still the one who came up with most of their plans. The weird thing was when they got into trouble, it always seemed like Othello was the one who got the pats on the back, while Iago received the stern looks.
“Why do they seem to like you more?” Iago once asked, with a hint of sadness in his voice. “You do the same stuff I do, but I’m the one that gets into trouble.”
Othello shrugged. “I don’t know.” He smiled. “Maybe it’s because I look more innocent, and you always look guilty. Learn to hide your facial expressions better.”
“Yeah, right,” he huffed. “If only they knew you’re the one who always drags me into things.”
“Only once,” Othello defended.
“Twice,” Iago said, then started laughing when Othello tackled him.
As they grew, their friendship grew tighter, and they started telling people they were brothers. Not many questioned them, even though he and Iago looked nothing alike, but Othello saw the looks they got whenever they said it. He could understand their confusion since Othello was a brown-skinned kid with a thick, curly afro that he learned to wear in twists or braids as he got older. He had a mix of Arabic, Spanish, and African features. Iago's olive complexion showed his Italian heritage, with wavy hair reaching his shirt collar.
They saw themselves as brothers in every way that mattered, sharing dreams, fears, joys, and sorrows. Each year, Iago talked about the death of his parents and how not having his parents in his life was affecting him. Othello recalled missing his parents, but over time he forgot them. One of their dreams was to leave Willow-Brook once they were old enough. Their chances of getting adopted were nil since they were no longer the cute and adorable babies that most people wanted. They were mischievous preteen boys who had other interests. It didn’t matter that they got good grades. They still liked to get into shit they shouldn’t have. As pretty as Willow-Brook was on the outside, on the inside, Ms. Mooney would constantly shake her head and tell them they’d be in jail before they turned eighteen.
Looking back, Othello couldn’t blame her for saying shit like that. They had stopped playing silly pranks on the kids or the staff in the group home and turned their activities to outside, where they became headaches to teachers and people in the neighborhood. But truly, no one ever bothered lecturing them anymore because it seemed like things went in one ear and out the other. They became the local bullies. Since they thought Iago was the more vocal of the two and tended to rough the kids up, it was believed Othello was the leader. But the truth was there wasn’t a leader or follower. They worked together, scamming and beating up kids, even adults, who might come at them the wrong way. But it didn’t mean they didn’t go out to find their own trouble.
As time passed, their petty crimes grew into pickpocketing little miscreants, perfecting the craft so well that they never got caught—except for that one time. The corner of Othello’s lips curled into a smile as the day came to him when they met Don Alessandro Romano. At the time, they had no clue the man was the head of a criminal organization or the role he would later play in their lives. They’d heard talk of gang activity in certain neighborhoods since the group home staff had discouraged them from going there. That was the only time they listened since both had decided they weren’t ready to play with the big boys yet and had to work on their street cred, and they figured instead of just beating and scamming people, they needed to do something more daring. That was when they spotted their guy.
Othello and Iago were crouched behind a parked car on a bustling city street, looking for an easy mark. That was when Othello spotted the well-dressed man striding confidently down the sidewalk. He could tell the man had money, from his suit and the gleaming gold watch on his wrist, not to mention he had the latest, most expensive cellphone that had just come out on the market. They perfected the plan they’d used a few times as they watched the guy.
“Okay, he’s really distracted on the phone,” Othello whispered. “Let’s do it now before he gets to where there’s not a lot of people. I’ll distract him, and you go for his wallet. I’m sure he has a lot of money on him.”
Iago didn’t need any more prompting, and they split up, pretending to go in different directions. Othello kept his eyes on the mark as he got to the crowded pedestrian crossing, which was perfect for putting their plan into action. Othello weaved his way through the throng of people. When he got close, Othello accidentally collided with the man who had his back facing him.
“What the fuck?” the man exclaimed in rightful anger as he steadied himself, swirled around. “Watch where fuck you’re going,” he said in a much harsher tone.
Othello groaned, dramatically falling on his ass, which was not part of the plan. Forgetting about his pain for now, he raised his gaze and looked up at the guy who seemed much taller and much scarier up close and in person. For a second, he wondered if he had chosen the wrong man to steal from, especially from the intense look in his eyes.
His heart pounded so loud in his chest that he felt as if he was going to have a heart attack at a young age. His fingers twitched, wanting to clutch his chest, but he held himself back. He was so scared that he almost forgot to breathe, and the real purpose of bumping into the guy, until he saw Iago approaching them. He thought about giving Iago the signal to abort the mission, but he couldn’t remember what they’d come up with. Out of everything they did, this was the first time he was scared as hell. But he also knew that even if he told Iago to back off, his brother wouldn’t listen to him. And although he didn’t want to stay in the man’s presence for much longer, he did what he could to keep the guy’s eyes on him.
“I…I…I’m...I’m sorry,” Othello stuttered and apologized profusely. He pulled on his energy, pushing his fear away. He stood, holding on to the man’s jacket, which only angered him more, but it was the perfect distraction for Iago to make his move.
“Get your dirty hands off,” the guy growled, pushing Othello away just as Iago walked by them as if he hadn’t seen what was happening and mixed into the crowd.
“I’m really sorry,” Othello said, standing up. “I...”
“Fuck, kid, stop apologizing,” the man yelled. “Just get the hell out of my face. I have somewhere to be. Dammit, why did I let Maria talk me into coming here? Fuck, I should have brought my guards. I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” the man rambled as he continued dusting off his jacket.
“Oh...oh, okay. But I’m really sorry,” Othello said softly, but the man heard him and growled, glaring at him.
“Leave,” he snapped.
“Yes, sir.”
Getting the message, Othello walked off as calmly as he could, even though he wanted to run as fast as he could and catch up with Iago, who was already at their hiding place, an abandoned building that used to be an old pizza joint. That day was the biggest windfall for them. They ignored the credit cards and focused on the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills that amounted to one thousand dollars that were easily split fifty-fifty.
While Iago spent his half, Othello saved his, thinking of his goal of getting away from the Willow-Brook group home. That was the difference between them. Othello was always thinking of what came next, while Iago lived in the moment, which was something he envied about his brother. He wasn’t reckless, but Iago was rash, while Othello was a thinker. The differences in their nature had served them well, but it had also made them come to blows and arguments over the years.
After they had stolen from the man, Iago wanted to find another mark, but Othello had to convince him it was better to take a break and stick close to home for a bit. Three weeks later, just as they were returning to their old tricks, the man they had stolen from walked through the door, changing Othello and Iago’s lives and giving them a far better life than they could’ve hoped for.
“Boss, you’re awake,” hearing Tallen’s voice caused Othello to step back into the present and look away from the window and over to the two men who had been sleeping soundly. “I’ll go get the doctor.”
He hurried out of the room, leaving him with Marco, who moved closer to Othello while fixing his suit. “It’s good to see you awake, Boss. It was touch and go for a little bit.”
“The don?” he asked, his voice raspy, having not used it for a few hours.
“He’s fine. He and Iago have been working around the clock for two days to find out who ambushed us. Speaking of which, I should call him. He’ll want to know you’re awake.”
“Two days?” Othello said.
“I told you it was touch and go for a bit.” Marco pulled out his phone and stepped away from the bed to make his call just as Tallen and a hospital staff member entered the room.
“Mister Moor, it’s good to see you awake.” The doctor smiled, walking over to him.