“He started it,” Doctor Des shouted, pointing to the screaming man on the ground.
“I saw you jump on his back,” Othello argued.
“It’s not my fault,” Doctor Des said through gritted teeth. Othello could tell the doctor was drunk off his ass, but he had adetermined look in his eyes of a man who knew when he was in the right. “I was minding my damn business, having a drink at the bar, then he and his fucking friends came up to us and offered to buy us a drink. I declined, but he kept pushing no matter how many times I said no. Then he grabbed me as if I was his property. I pushed him, and things escalated. But he started it.”
Othello sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, collecting his thoughts. “Will someone shut this asshole up?” he shouted, pointing at the man on the ground.
“We got it, boss,” Tallen said, looking a bit banged up.
Othello turned to the doctor. “Are you alright? Did you get hit anywhere?”
“No, I’m fine, but he won’t be if he doesn’t get to the hospital soon.”
“He’ll be fine, but do you know how much trouble you just cost me?” Othello huffed, then he grabbed the little doctor and pulled him over to Marco, who was rolling down his shirt sleeve. Othello was glad the doctor didn’t argue with him, since he wasn’t in the mood to fight. He had a long night ahead of him already and needed his strength.
“Take him to my apartment. Stand guard, and don’t let him leave until I deal with this shit.”
“Yes, boss.” Marco reached out for the doctor, who stepped behind Othello.
“What the fuck is going on here? I’m a grown-ass man. What room is he taking me to, and why? Are you trying to kidnap me in a room full of people? Wait, you own this club?”
Othello would have thought the man was acting scared since the fear in his voice didn’t match theI will kick your assexpression on his face.
What a feisty little drunk!
“Yes, this is my club, and Marco is going to take you upstairs so you can rest,” Othello simply explained.
“But I’m not...”
Othello didn’t let him finish and nodded at Marco as he stepped aside.
“This way, sir,” Marco said and began walking away.
The little doctor didn’t protest this time and followed behind Othello’s subordinate. He turned to the rest. “Clear out the club and close down for the night.”
“Boss, the birthday party is still going on,” one of his subordinates informed him.
“I guess the fight didn’t ruin their fun,” he mumbled. “Let them be. They paid for the entire night. But clean this shit up.”
“Yes.”
Just as he was done giving out orders, Iago pocketed his cellphone. “I’ve set up a parley for you and the Rossetti underboss.”
Othello quirked a brow, feeling quite irritated at Iago’s action, but didn’t let it show in his words or expression. “I appreciate it, bro, but wait for my order before you jump the gun next time.”
Iago nodded as an expression flashed too quickly in his eyes for Othello to register what it was, but he pocketed it for later and focused on the matter at hand.
“When and where will we be meeting?”
“East Street Diner, midnight,” Iago answered. “It’s the closest neutral spot.”
Othello looked at his watch, noting that he had an hour and a half. “Alright, you head home.”
“What? Why?” Iago asked, seeming taken aback.
“Iago, seriously, you should head home. Emilia is close to giving birth.”
“But...” he started, but Othello stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
