Scene V
SCENE V
OTHELLO
T he next time Othello woke up, a wonderful smile broke on his face when he saw the most gorgeous and proper woman dressed in a name-brand pants suit sitting at his bedside.
“Mama,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.
“Don’t you Mama me, Othello Romano-Moor,” she snapped without any real anger.
Although he was adopted and took the Romano name, he’d wanted to keep his birth parents’ name, holding on to the last bit of connection to them, and Maria and Alessandro had agreed.
“Don’t you have something to say to me?” Maria quirked a perfectly arched dark eyebrow. “How did a simple meeting turn into bloodshed? Your father and Iago won’t tell me, and from the look on your face, I guess you won’t either.”
As far as Othello knew, Alessandro had never kept the darkness of their world from Maria. She knew the inner workers and was respected in the organization and among the other clans. Sometimes, Maria had Alessandro’s ear more than anyone else.
“Why didn’t you wear one of those suits you paid so much money to have made to protect you?” she ranted. “Everyone else did. I’m disappointed in you, meu pequeno .”
Over the years, Othello had made many changes to the organization, adding more security measures to the Romanos' home, outfitting the soldiers with better Kevlar vests or suits, and increasing their training. He bought out the two mansions on either side of the Romanos, turning them into living and training spaces for their soldiers. He built an extension connecting them to his parents’ home.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Othello said softly, hoping to appeal to her tender heart. “I shouldn’t have gotten hurt. I won’t let it happen again.”
“No, you shouldn’t have, but what can we do?” She sighed and brushed his hair from his forehead. “How are you feeling, meu pequeno ?”
“The drugs have worn off,” he groaned.
“Do you want me to get the doctor?” She stood quickly and was about to leave.
Othello shook his head. “Not yet. I can deal with the discomfort for a bit. I want to spend some time with you.”
“Even lying there in bed in pain, you try to sweet talk me. Let’s get your pain taken care of. I won’t be going anywhere.”
She pressed the call button, and the hospital staff arrived quicker than expected. Othello wasn’t sure why he was expecting the doctor from earlier instead of a nurse showing up.
“Hello, Mister Moor, I’m Chloe. What can I do for you?”
“He’s in pain,” Maria rushed out before he could speak.
Not affected by Maria’s words, Chole picked up his record and looked at it. “Okay, we’ll take care of it. Also, Doctor Ellington left instructions for additional tests. You were sleeping when we came to get you, so we’ll get that done.”
“Is that his doctor? This Ellington?” Maria asked.
“Yes, he’s the attending doctor and the one who operated on Mister Moor.”
“Then where is he? Shouldn’t he be here to take care of my son?” Maria had slipped completely into mama-bear mode, and Othello felt sorry for the poor nurse.
“Doctor Ellington has gone home for the night, but other doctors are available if anything happens.”
“Mama, I’m in pain,” he said softly before Maria could utter another word. The nurse looked at him, and he saw the relief in her eyes.
“I’ll get you those meds. I’ll also have some broth sent up for you.”
“Thank you,” Othello said.
“She seems nice,” Maria said when the nurse left them alone. “Very pretty, too.”
“Mama,” he groaned. “You remember I’m gay, right?”
Othello had come out to Alessandro and Maria when he was sixteen, and although he’d been scared out of his mind, he couldn’t live in a box and was ready for them to kick him out if they were against it. Although they lived in an open society with male carriers, there were still some assholes who had issues with same-sex couples. But to his relief, they accepted him. Iago, on the other hand, had a hard time with him being gay, and it put a slight fracture in their relationship for a few months.
According to Iago, he felt betrayed by Othello’s homosexuality and couldn’t understand why everyone was so accepting of his lifestyle. He argued that Othello needed to find the right girl so he would know that he was straight. Othello grew insulted by Iago’s words and got sick and tired of being unable to explain things to him so his friend would understand that he was born the way he was and it wouldn’t change. It wasn’t as if he found women disgusting. He could appreciate beauty when he saw it; he just wasn’t attracted to them sexually. So, he simply stopped talking to him.
They’d argued and had drag-out fistfights for the first time in their friendship.
Othello had thought everything they had built was over, until one day, Iago apologized and told him that although he didn’t understand the whole gay thing, he wouldn’t lose his brother over it. He wouldn’t lie and say that it hadn’t taken a long time for them to build back the trust they have now.
“Of course I do. But if one day you find a lover who is not a carrier and you two decide to give me grandchildren, she’s a choice for a surrogate.”
Othello rolled his eyes. “Didn't you just find out you’re about to be a grandmother? Don’t give me that.”
“I wished Iago had married the girl first,” Maria pouted. “Maybe you should talk to him.”
“Her name is Emilia, and they will when they are ready.”
“I know what her name is,” Maria huffed and agitatedly fixed his bed covers, grumbling about Emilia. “She’s a sweet girl, and I hate what Iago has been doing to her, but I promise not to interfere in your love lives. As long as he is happy, I will support him.”
At the beginning of the relationship, his mama disliked Emilia a little until she learned of Iago’s cheating habits. As much as Maria tried to stay out of it, she couldn’t stop herself from berating Iago and telling Emilia to break things off with him. Hearing those words must have done something to Iago because he promised to remain faithful to Emilia if she forgave him. However, Othello knew his brother and knew that he was keeping a mistress or two on the side, much to Othello’s disappointment, and he’d told him to stop being an idiot. Othello thought Emilia was perfect for Iago. He could see how much she loved his friend and wished he had someone as devoted to him as Emilia was to Iago.
During her fussing, Nurse Chloe came in with his medication, and he was fucking thankful. Not long after, the broth came up, and as hungry as he was, he couldn’t manage but a few spoonfuls.
Fuck, I need to get better quickly so that I can get the fuck out of here.
Othello had never told anyone, but he hated hospitals. He couldn’t recall many details about his parents’ deaths, but he vividly remembered the hospital’s smell and the overwhelming emotions it brought. Even though he was an adult and Maria had been by his side the entire time, with each passing moment he was awake, he could feel those very emotions, and it was fucking with him far more than it should. A couple of hours later, he was taken for tests and then back to his room, where Alessandro had joined Maria.
“Don Alessandro, it’s good to see you’re in good health, sir.”
Alessandro sighed and grumbled, “When are you going to start calling me Papa? You’ve been my son since you were thirteen.”
Maria tapped Alessandro on his shoulder. “Stop complaining. Don’t you know your son calls you that because he greatly respects you?”
“I get that, but he could say it just once,” Alessandro pouted.
“Stop acting like a child,” Maria said.
Maria was correct on one level. He had a tremendous amount of respect for Alessandro, but he’d never thought the man would care if he called him father or not. Maybe he had been wrong this entire time. Othello watched the two bicker lovingly, as they had since he met them. Alessandro was a fierce man, never to be trifled with, but the one person who could make him do anything they wanted was Maria, who had his heart completely.
It was sometime later that Maria had fallen asleep, giving Alessandro and Othello time to talk. “Are we sure the Falcons weren’t the ones to set up the ambush? They take us out and get all the properties.”
“Everyone is suspicious right now, but I hate to say it. Julian isn’t that smart,” Alessandro said. “The person who planned it was much smarter.”
Othello sighed. “Since we agree that Falcon didn’t set us up, I think it’s important we continue with the negotiations.”
“They’ll want more than what we offered. If we don't play nice, we already suspect they are working with the Ricci and Greco families, and we don’t want to cross Falcon bringing the fire down on us. That’s something we're not ready to take them on yet.”
“I know. Give them Liberty Heights and Greenfield. There’s enough real estate for them to make a killing if they know what they're doing; we already have the financial district and most of the high-scale real estate. We’ll take back the medical and art district. This way, we still have Bradford Healthcare in our pockets. Not to mention, the change of hands won't disrupt the art auction at the year's end. I wasn't keen on us giving up those properties, but I get you wanted them to see your good nature."
Alessandro asked, “What do you want to do with the slush fund we received from the auction?”
"The best way to look like a good businessman is to invest it. In the years we've started doing more business with the tech boys, we've been able to hide our business better."
"Damn." Alessandro tsked. "I knew Falcon wasn't as smart as his father, or else he would have seen all that he tried to give him."
"You should have known he didn't have what it took to be a part of this business when he turned down access to Rizzo's ports. We'll be able to control what comes in and out. His father would have seen an opportunity and taken it."
Unlike most families, the Romanos no longer dealt with drugs and human trafficking. They concentrated on buying and selling arms in other countries, prime real estate, and gambling, which brought in more money than they could spend in an hour. In the beginning, Iago was against the idea of them changing their business dealings but later saw how prosperous they were. Falcon, on the other hand, had no head for business or this world.
"Falcon wants to stay on petty shit that Iago and I used to do when we were kids. They can't play with the big boys. We planned on taking them out in the future anyway, but I say leave it to the cops. They'll fuck up their own bag by the end of the year. Then we can swoop in and take the bag that we gave them.”
Alessandro sat silent for a few minutes before he spoke again. “I’ll have the new agreement drawn up. Once everything is settled, we’ll get started on the renovations of the old factories. Are you sure you want to turn them into condos?”
“Yeah.” The construction companies were the perfect cover, as most of their illegal activities ran through them, but Othello felt they needed to expand and have a few legal businesses. Lately, the cops had been sniffing around their construction sites a bit too much—more than once, they’d had to deal with an undercover cop—Othello’s plan was for their clan to appear completely legit on the surface, drawing smoke away from them. Alessandro wasn’t a careless man by any means, but he was growing sloppy, drawing eyes on them, ones they didn’t need.
“I’ll follow your lead on this, Othello. It’s why I made you my successor.”
"Our other goal right now is finding out who set us up. Are you sure we looked into everyone?"
"Do you doubt me?" Alessandro quirked a brow.
"Of course not. I want to make sure we covered all grounds," he said as another thought came to him. "What about the Ricci and Greco families? You know how much they hate me, not to mention Cassio; their underboss despises me."
"Even if they are the ones that put out the hit, we can't touch them. We can only speculate. I doubt they’re ready to take out Falcon and his lot. But I also can't deny they would have a reason to want to take you or me out of the game. They find me disloyal for naming you as my heir."
Othello had never asked, but he’d always wondered why Alessandro hadn’t chosen Iago when the two men were more alike than anything. As a matter of fact, he was certain Iago would have been the next in line. Othello had grown more laid-back the older he got, and he was enjoying his early thirties. Iago remained brash and unyielding but followed Alessandro’s orders to the letter, while Othello did what felt right. When they were adopted, Iago didn’t hyphenate his last name and immediately took the Romano name.
“Thank you for trusting me, Papa.” Othello smiled. He saw a brightness engulf Alessandro’s face for the first time, but he coughed, masking it quickly, and then changed the subject.
They talked more about dealing with the fallout of the ambush before he sent Alessandro and Maria home. Since he wasn’t sleepy and thanked all the gods for his high pain threshold, he wasn’t feeling pain that he couldn’t handle. He grabbed his cellphone and responded to several emails. He would have continued if he hadn’t felt sleepy and the nurse had come in to check on him. During the night, he was awakened by voices, but he remained still, kept his eyes closed, and listened to make sure he wasn’t in danger. He hated feeling helpless. He guessed it might be the hospital staff since they were moving around his bed, fiddling with the covers as they talked.
“Did you hear Doctor Ellington turned down our Doctor Adonis when he asked him out on a date?” one person said.
“No way,” a second voice interjected. “Who turns down Adonis? We call him that for a reason. Who does Doctor Ellington think he is? Did he give a reason?”
“Who knows, maybe he’s seeing someone, or his parents already picked out his lover for him. You know he does nothing without their approval.”
Fuck, why are they fucking gossiping in my room while I’m trying to sleep? Get the hell out so I can rest.
“I feel sorry for Doctor Ellington, though; he’s kind, sexy, and pretty sweet,” said the first voice with a giggle. “I fall in lust with him every time I look into his green eyes.”
“He really is, and very good to the nursing staff.”
Not wanting to hear anymore, Othello moaned and shifted in the bed as if he were waking up. He heard the two women gasp. Cracking his eyes open, he watched the two leave his hospital room. Not wanting to think about it anymore, he snuggled in the uncomfortable bed as he drifted back to sleep, recalling green gems that reminded him of an angel.
Des slammed back his fifth or sixth shot of the night, before slumping down on the sofa. He was grinning like a fool as he felt the spirit run through his bloodstream, giving him the sweet buzz he wanted.
“You alright, man?”
Des turned his head, looking at Gray, who had stopped by unannounced with alcohol and Frango Assado com Piri-Piri from the local Portuguese restaurant not far from Des’s house.
“Yeah. I’m good.” His eyes felt droopy, but he knew he wasn’t sleepy. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here? And what reason do you have to get me drunk when you know I have work tomorrow?” He was slurring his words but didn’t care.
Gray chuckled. “I didn’t force you to drink. And can’t I come and see my best friend?”
“Ha! Best friend, my ass.” Des pouted. “You’ve been so busy I thought you forgot about me. It makes me wonder if you’re seeing someone. You’re starting to act like Bianca when she gets a new lover.”
“Nah, I could never forget you. I’m just busy with work.”
Gray, whose real name was Gratiano Marchetti, was quite handsome with his tall, muscular build, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes. Although they had been friends since college, they had never dated or done anything remotely intimate besides kissing each other on the cheek or falling asleep in the same bed. Des had seen the kind of men and women Gray liked to go out with, and Des could say he wasn’t remotely Gray’s type, which had never bothered him. Except for when they hung out together. Because men and women fawned over him, completely forgetting that Des was even around. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a looker. He’d been described as gorgeous with androgynous features.
He got his light green eyes from his dad and his jet-black hair from his mother. He kept his hair short and always appeared as if he’d just rolled out of bed, so whenever he wasn’t working, he normally gelled it down to keep it in place. He kept in shape by swimming and doing calisthenics whenever he had time off. Thanks to his parents, he ate healthily but enjoyed a good hamburger and fries smothered in ketchup on a good day.
“How’s work?” Gray asked.
Des shrugged his shoulders. “It’s work. Nothing else for me to say. I saved a gunshot victim a couple of days ago.” Sitting up, he poured himself another drink and took his shot, no chaser, since he wanted to feel the burn. “Want to know what’s weird?”
“Yeah?”
“They don’t want me to report it. I was practically threatened to tell my parents if I reported it to the police. So I don’t even know how he got shot.”
“Do you want me to look into it?” Gray asked.
“No, I told you I can’t tell the cops,” Des snapped.
“Did you forget I’m a cop?”
“You’re different,” Des said, taking two more shots. “You won’t do anything to draw attention to me. What if he’s a part of the mafia...”
“Alright, that’s enough.” He took the shot glass away from him. “Sometimes I forget how you get when you drink too much.”
“I need to drink so I don’t have to think about how much I don’t like my job.”
“If you hate your job, Desi, quit,” Gray said, rubbing his shoulder in comfort.
“You know I can’t. I need my inheritance to open my gallery. And I don’t dislike saving lives, Gray. I might not love it, but I am good at what I do,” he said, then laughed. “Can you imagine it, though?” He turned to face Gray. “Better yet, picture me telling the folks that I’m giving up their dream for me because I want to follow my own.”
Des had told everything to Gray about his enriched family life back when they were in school, and he had been trying to convince him to walk his own path, but it was hard for Des because he was too fucking loyal to his parents. Not only that, he felt indebted to them, or that was how they had made it seem his entire life. They never failed to remind him they’d paid for him to attend the best private school, his college and medical school tuition, and even the apartment building he lived in was bought by his parents where he lived rent-free.
“Fuck, I hate this for you, Desi.” Gray sighed.
“Don’t call me that,” he groaned, flopping over and resting his head on Gray’s shoulder. “I want to meet someone. Hell, I want to lose my virginity before I die of old age.”
“To do that, you have to step away from your parents' shackles.”
“I know—two more years. I can do it, and then I won’t have to deal with them,” he said, snuggling into Gray’s neck.
“I can give you the money you need, Desi,” Gray said.
“No,” Des told him. “I already have to rely on my parents and don’t want to depend on you too. I need to do this on my own.”
“If you say so.” Gray kissed him on the forehead, and it felt good to have some affection.
“I got asked out by one of the doctors on my floor, but I turned him down.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I never know why I turn them down. Maybe I’m waiting for someone special to sweep me off my feet.”
Gray circled his waist, pulling him closer. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Desi. Real life is a lot harder than that.”
“Can you not burst my bubble?” he groaned.
“I’m just being real with you,” Gray said. “Don’t give up on finding love,” Des heard as he drifted off to sleep.
The following morning, Des woke up to his phone buzzing, wishing he could ignore it. He peeked his head from the mounds of pillows, not even questioning how he got to bed after falling asleep on Gray last night; he knew his friend was the one to get him situated before he either went home or went to sleep on the couch. Des stretched for his still buzzing phone, squinting as he looked at who had interrupted his sweet dream.
He groaned, pressing the phone to his forehead when he saw Mom lighting up the screen. It was another temptation not to answer, but he knew Ava only called for a specific reason. His parents weren’t bad people, and he didn’t hate them—he really didn’t; they just required so much from him.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said, answering the call.
“I can’t believe you’re still sleeping,” Ava’s stern voice responded. “Don’t you have to be at the hospital?”
He rolled on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Not for another four hours.”
“When your father and I were in your position, we would...”
“Mother, is there a reason why you called me at five in the morning?” he interrupted before she went on and on about how dedicated she and his father used to be at the hospital.
“No need to get snappy, Desmond,” Ava said dryly. “Your father and I are having a small dinner party tonight, and we want you to join us after work. There are a couple of people we want you to meet.”
This was how their conversations always went, like a business meeting where they told him where and when he needed to be. There were never any sweet family moments he could pull up in his memory that brought a smile to his face. Family gatherings were stoic and mind-numbing for Des. The good thing was his extended family wasn’t so bad, but they hardly came around.
“Mother, you know I don’t like parties.” Especially the ones you throw. I always have to pretend I’m having a good time.
“It is a networking party, dear. Your father and I are preparing for your future. Plus, your father and I have a very important announcement.”
Des knew he should be ecstatic that his parents were investing so much into him, yet he wasn’t living his own life. I don’t want it! I don’t want your future plans. I want my own. Mentally, he was aware of how ungrateful he sounded, but he was very unhappy. “Mother, I don’t...” He went to say he didn’t want to work at the hospital anymore, but the words stalled on his tongue.
“What is it that you don’t know, dear? Speak up, I have a lot to do.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. You know how unpredictable things at the hospital can be.”
“That is true,” Bianca said. “Very well. I will tell you the news we’re announcing tonight. Your father has decided to run for the New York Senate.”
“What?” Des sat up in bed, surprised at his mother’s declaration.
“Yes, isn’t it exciting?” Des pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the name on the caller ID to make sure he was really talking to his mother since he’d never heard her sound so excited.
“Why? Why did he decide to go into politics?”
“Because it’s something he’d always wanted to do.”
“I thought being a doctor was his ultimate goal in life,” he said sarcastically and was sure Ava hadn’t caught on.
“He’s accomplished that goal. Now, he’s ready to move on to the next one. So with him running for senate, we’ll both be retiring as administrators from the hospital. I’m sure that will make you happy not to have us looking over your shoulder.”
“Since you’re both quitting, can I do the same?”
“Whyever, for? Your career’s just starting,” she said as if he’d asked an insane question. “Anyway, you go and get ready for work. I’m off to prepare for tonight’s dinner party. Please come if you can.” She hung up before he could say anything else, but Des lay still with his phone still pressed to his ear.
Did my mother use the word, please? And with me? What the fuck is going on here?