“How do you take your coffee?” he asked, walking over to the cabinet and taking two coffee mugs from it.
“Black,” the doctor responded, not even looking up at Othello.
“Do you like your coffee like you like your men, Doc?” He poured the coffee and handed it to the doctor, who took it but didn’t bring the cup to his lips.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a man,” he responded softly.
Othello quirked an interested brow. “Then women.”
“Never had a woman either.” He finally sipped his coffee, and Othello stared at the man in shock. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to have a taste of the little cutie?
“So you’re one of those romantics, waiting for the right person to come along and sweep you off your feet. Make you feel all tingly, with butterflies flying around you.”
“I wouldn’t say that. More like I was focused on other things, and it’s only recently that I've decided to live for myself and not others.”
Ah, so that explains the makeover. But what's with the melancholy mood? Maybe I’m overthinking things, and he’s hungover. Perhaps he’s going through a late teenage rebellion?
Deciding to hold off on asking more questions, Othello set his coffee cup down, reached for the remote, and turned on the television. The cool thing about his place was that he could see the screen from any section of his apartment. He turned to the news to play in the background as he got ingredients to make a Spanish omelet.
“The New York Senate race is heating up for Doctor David Ellington, who has announced he is ready to debate his challenger, Benito Grant.”
Othello stopped when he heard a familiar name and looked at the doctor, staring at the screen. Othello had been keeping up with the Senate race. After all, whoever won could affect his and the clan’s business. If politicians couldn’t be bribed to ignore or turn a blind eye to wrongdoing, they would have to find alternative ways to control them. Threatening their family was a good way—until he saw the doctor, who resembled David Ellington. It hadn’t occurred to him that David and Des could be related.
“You know, Doc, you look like the guy running for senate,” Othello stated, making small talk as he diced up the onions.
“That’s what they call genetics,” he said, facing Othello. “He’s my father.” Another air of sadness surrounded him.
“Oh, you don’t sound happy that he’s running for senate.”
“It’s not like that.” He sighed. “It’s hard to explain, and honestly, I don’t want to talk about it, especially with someone I don’t know.”
“Come on, now, Doc, we slept together. I’d say you know me plenty,” Othello teased, and it seemed to lighten the mood as the man gave him a smile that reached his eyes.
The doctor rolled his eyes. “All we did was sleep next to each other, so it doesn’t afford me to tell you about my personal business.”
Othello tutted. “You help a guy fight the Beast, and he keeps secrets from you.”
“The Beast? What the fuck are you going on about?”
Othello was about to explain, but he was interrupted by his cellphone. Rinsing off his hands, he went to grab it off the nightstand. Seeing that it was Iago calling, he picked it up right away.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Iago answered. “Just checking to see how the meeting with the Rossetti underboss went.”
“It went well. I’ll update you on it when I get to the house.”
“Why can’t you do it now?”
“I have company,” Othello said.
Iago was silent for a few seconds. “Oh, oh,” he said in surprise, which bothered Othello.
“Why do you sound like that?”
“How do I sound?”
“Like you’re shocked by what I said.”
