Page 6 of Moor (Twisted Bard)

SCENE VI

DES

D es groaned, stretching and hearing his muscles pop in all the right places. The minute he’d stepped into the hospital, he’d been pulled into an emergency surgery for a construction worker who fell off a scaffold, breaking his spine in four places. That was five hours ago, and now he was aching and starving. After cleaning up and speaking with the family, he went to the lounge to grab something to eat and bumped into Doctor Fabian Castilian, or as the nurses liked to call him, Doctor Adonis.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Des said as he tried to step around the other doctor, but he was stopped with a hand on his waist.

“Nothing to apologize for. I was hoping to bump into you,” the doctor told him.

“Oh really, why?” Des moved back, allowing the hand holding him to let go.

“I wanted to know if you’ve reconsidered my dinner date request. I was hoping for tonight.”

I already turned you down. What is there to think about? What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Doctor Castilian was handsome, that was for sure, but the doctor set off his spidey senses whenever the man was near him. He knew the guy was a straight-up player and liked bragging about who he’d fucked. But other than that, Castilian was an exceptional surgeon. Or it could’ve been his imagination. “I don’t think it will be possible. I promised my mom I’d have dinner with her and my dad tonight.”

“Oh,” Castilian said, seeming quite crestfallen, but Des didn’t understand why when the man had plenty of others in the hospital to choose from. “Maybe some other time, then.”

Des nodded and walked away, only to stop again when he noticed that the patient, Mister Moor, who was two doors down, had been watching their interaction. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, and again, Des was surprised. Anyone who had just had a major surgery like Moor would be laid up in bed, not wanting to move for at least a week. It had only been a couple of days, and the man was already on his feet.

“Mister Moor, you should be in bed,” Des said, walking over to him. “You’ve only been awake for a couple of days.”

“I can’t lie in bed all day, Doc; I’m not built like that,” Moor said, his tone low and steady.

“Well, as your doctor, I’d advise you not to move too much. Your sutures cannot be disturbed.” Des sighed, realizing he wouldn’t be getting anything to eat anytime soon. “Let’s get you back into bed so I can look you over.”

Moor stared down at him since the man seemed significantly taller than Des had imagined, making him tilt his head back to look up at him. After a few seconds, he grunted and walked back into the room. Des wrapped a hand around his waist, giving him aid that proved to be a bit useless. Even injured, the man could still lift Des without breaking a sweat.

“You don’t have to help me into bed. I can manage.”

“Okay,” Des agreed, not wanting to be bothered arguing with the man.

Once Moor was situated in bed, he began his exam, making notes on his file. He hadn’t had time to review the test results from the day before, but Moor was healing well. However, it didn’t mean the man could walk around at will.

“Are you really going to your folks' for dinner?”

Des paused and looked at the patient. “What business is it of yours?” he snapped.

“I’m bored.” Moor shrugged his shoulders, then hissed at the action. “Call me curious.”

“You know what they say happened to the cat, right?” Des said.

“Then I suppose I can rely on the other eight lives I have left,” was Moor’s snappy comeback, not taking his brown eyes off Des, still waiting for an answer.

“I don’t discuss my private life with my patients, Mister Moor.”

“Fair enough, but that guy won’t give up. You’ve already rejected him twice. He’ll try for a third and wear you down until you say yes.”

Placing his stethoscope around his neck, Des tilted his head to the side. “How did you know he’ll ask me again?”

“Guys like that don’t give up.” Moor laid back on his pillow, reached for his remote, and turned on the television. “I guess I can see why he won’t. Too bad you’re not my type, or I’d ask you out myself.”

“Who said I’d go out with you anyway?” Des growled, feeling quite annoyed with the man, especially when he smirked.

“So, you don’t find me good-looking? Maybe I was mistaken, and you weren’t checking me out yesterday.”

“I’m your doctor, Mister Moor, nothing else. Please report me to the administrators if you feel I was doing something inappropriate or uncomfortable. Maybe they’ll do me the favor of throwing me out on my ass. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.”

With that, Des walked out of the patient's room with a commanding air, but inside, he was so angry he could spit fire if he were a dragon. How dare that asshole say I was checking him out? But you were, came an annoying voice in the back of his head that he instantly shut off with a mental fuck off . Still, Des didn’t like being called out on his shit. What a cocky bastard. Dammit, and why do I find it so sexy?

Pushing the encounter out of his mind, he went and got something to eat and finished out his day since he had to go home and get ready for his parents' dinner party. Des hated that he was far too loyal and honest with his parents, yet he wasn’t honest with his feelings about his career.

One day. I’ll tell them one day.

Othello chuckled as he watched the doctor hurry out of his room with his back straight, trying to pretend he wasn’t affected by Othello’s words. He hadn’t meant to upset the doctor, but truthfully, he was bored out of his skull. He’d contacted Tallen and told him to bring some paperwork to him to look over. But Tallen told him Don Alessandro ordered that if anyone brought work to Othello, he would chop their legs off. Tallen was loyal to Othello but was loyal and afraid of Alessandro more than anything else. So, until then, Othello would have to find something or someone to occupy his time. And it seemed the little doctor was the right distraction.

Des stood on the balcony of his parents' home, enjoying the cool breeze. He’d only been there for thirty minutes and had not spoken with his parents. He’d seen them, but they were too busy chatting and laughing with their friends. Des was giving it another fifteen minutes before he made his escape.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” came a familiar voice behind him.

“I’m not hiding, Mother, just taking a breather.” Des spun around and greeted her respectfully. They were not the touchy-feely type of people. He couldn’t recall the last time she or his father had given him a hug. Maybe it was when he was in junior high school. He’d tried giving her a hug, and she rebuffed him. Ava Ellington didn’t look a day over forty, and not a strand of hair was out of place, pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a designer hunter-green sequined strapless midi-length dress contoured to her thin frame.

“This is an important night for your father. Why did you wear jeans to the party?” she huffed, wrinkling her brows. “You could have at least worn a jacket. It won’t look good with you standing next to your father when he announces his senate bid.”

“Mother, I came straight from work,” he lied. He’d actually gone home, with enough time to shower, and got dressed in a dark blue suit and black shirt, no tie, and just as he was about to walk out the door, he decided to change and went with jeans and a black V-neck pullover sweater. “You wanted me here, so here I am.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Is that concern I hear coming from you?” he said, a bit taken aback.

“Why wouldn’t I be concerned? You’re my son.”

“Mother...”

“When will you call me Mom?”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Des snapped. “I can’t figure you out right now. You’ve never been concerned about anything pertaining to me. The only thing you and your father were concerned about was whether I got A’s in school or came first. If it weren’t for Nanny Cee, I wouldn’t know what it felt like to be hugged by a mother figure...”

“Desmond, where is this coming from?” his mother said, sounding very surprised by his ranting.

Truthfully, he was as well. He hadn’t meant for all that to come out, but in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went.

“You knew I never wanted to be a doctor. I only did because you and Dad forced me, and now you want me to stand here like a supportive son while he announces that he wants to run for senate when you both have never given me emotional support a day in my life. We are not a perfect family, Mother. What happened to ‘we must carry on the family business?’”

“That is why we had you, Son,” Ava said, smiling. “So you can take over where we left off.”

Des chuckled, but it wasn’t because he was happy. “So you two get to live out your dreams while I’m stuck doing something I hate?”

“Lower your tone,” she said, looking around as if expecting others to pay attention to their conversation. “And what’s wrong with saving people's lives? Art is a hobby, Desmond, not a steady career.”

“There’s nothing wrong with saving lives, but one has to have their heart and soul in it to feel that it is worthwhile to sacrifice everything for what they love.”

“Have we been that terrible to you, Desmond?”

“Not in the way you might be thinking, but it’s obvious you and Father don’t believe in my dream, yet I’m supposed to smile and support you both while you accomplish yours. I can’t do that or carry on with a mentally and physically draining career. So why don’t you give me my inheritance, and let’s cut ties with each other? Better yet, go and have the child you really want.”

Ava gasped and clutched her diamond-encrusted necklace, staring at Des as if he’d said the world was ending. Seeing they had nothing else to say to each other, Des walked away, leaving his mother standing in the same spot, but if he was being completely honest with himself, he felt ten years lighter.

Over the next few weeks, Des thought long and hard about what he wanted to do with his life. Now that he’d told his mother he never wanted to be a doctor, he thought of changing careers but would not immediately quit. He needed to speak with his grandfather's attorney to see his options. After his grandfather died, he’d only stayed at the will reading long enough to hear his grandfather’s stipulations; if there was more to the will, Des didn’t know what was said. He was too angry with his grandfather for siding with his parents. Growing up, his grandfather Sebastian had encouraged Des's love of art and told him never to give up on his dreams. So he felt it was a stab in the heart hearing the words he wrote.

When he was ready to read the will, his parents were completely against it. He'd contacted the lawyer who had read the will and found out he no longer worked for the firm his grandfather used. It seemed he'd quit a couple of days after the will reading. Des wouldn't deny that he’d grown suspicious of the whole thing. The new attorney who took over handling his grandfather's case was very close to his father, and Des didn't think he could trust the man to act in his best interest.

It may be time for me to get my own lawyer. Fuck, I should have done that a long time ago.

He knew he couldn't go on like this, waiting two years before being free. Des didn't know how much the inheritance was, but he knew it would be enough for him to put a down payment on a building to open his studio. He'd been on the east side, which had always been described as the artist and cultural hub of Verona Heights and where he originally wanted to live. From the art shows, the people, and the music to the theatre, Des came alive each time he went there to see if the building he’d had his eye on for years still sat empty. It was as if the property was waiting for him to claim it.

It was large enough and had two separate levels for him to have an art studio, where he could teach classes, hold exhibits, and do so much more, as well as an apartment. Des could only hope the building would be there in two years when he left this job. His parents would be angry with him, but Des didn't care.

It's time I stand up for myself .

He would quit his job if he knew his savings and small investments would sustain him for a long time. But truthfully, he was afraid of failing and proving his parents right when he wanted to succeed and rub it in their faces. Having his inheritance would give him a sense of security. He hadn’t heard from his parents since the night of their party, and Des wasn’t sure how to feel. Des had thought his mother would call to argue with him over his words, but it seemed they’d abandoned him like always.

“That better not be my medical record you’re looking at, the way your face keeps changing.”

Des looked up from the patient record and locked onto his patient Moor. His recovery had been going well, and Des was certain he’d be able to discharge the man in a day or two, which would be a relief. Since that day, Des had told him to mind his business; the man had done no such thing. Moor seemed to find it fascinating to delve into his private life each time he went to give the man a check-up. Of course, Des never answered his questions, but it only made Moor push more.

“As a matter of fact, I looked over your chart earlier. I have good news. You can be discharged in two days.”

“Really?” Moor said, excitement brimming in his brown eyes.

“Yes. Your latest test results show no infections, and you can function without pain meds. Well done, Mister Moor.”

“What about my diet?”

Since the man had chest surgery, he had been on a restricted diet while his injuries healed. “Don’t go crazy, but slowly work more into your daily meals, and you should be fine.”

“This is great news. To tell you the truth, I’ve been bored out of my skull.”

“Well, you can get back to your normal life in a couple of days.”

Moor looked as if he was about to say something when Tallen, if Des correctly remembered the man’s name, got off the elevator and walked over to the nurses’ station, where Des and Moor were standing.

“Boss, what are you doing out of bed?” Tallen said worriedly.

“What do you think will happen to me when the doctor and all these nurses are right here?”

Des listened to Moor's brash manner of speaking to his friend and didn’t like it. “You could talk to him nicely. He’s only concerned about you,” he said haughtily.

“Oh, it’s okay, Doc; boss doesn’t mean anything by it. I’m used to the way he speaks.”

“Why should I watch the way I speak to my people?”

“Is this your way of telling me to mind my business?” Des shot back.

Moor shrugged. “More or less.”

“Oh, so it’s okay to push your nose into my affairs, but I can’t do the same with you. I never realized you were so hypocritical.” Not wanting to bother the annoying man, Des grabbed his medical charts and left for a quiet place to work since he wasn’t scheduled to perform any surgeries for the rest of the day.

“Boss, you’re smiling,” Tallen said, grabbing Othello’s attention.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he scowled. “I wasn’t smiling.”

“While watching the doctor walk away, your face had a weird grin. Do you like the doc?”

“He's not my type."

"Funny, I was sure he was," Tallen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He's feisty and doesn't seem afraid to look you in the eye like some of the other guys you've fucked. Not to mention, he's pretty cute and has those dimples when he smiles."

"You were seeing things," Othello mumbled.

"Marco and I have a bet going that he's a carrier."

"What the hell difference does that make?” Othello's brows furrowed, looking at Tallen, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, if he is, then you can get with him and have kids, and Mrs. Maria could stop worrying that you'll die a lonely man. She doesn't show it when she's here, boss, but she's been really worried since you got shot."

Othello sighed. He really wished he could ease Maria's worry, but simply falling into bed with someone just to procreate wasn't his thing. Did he want children? Of course, he did, but it wasn't a dealbreaker for him. Sure, he'd had flings and even been in a committed relationship once, but things didn't work out. Othello desired too many things from his partner, one being their complete trust and loyalty. He wanted them to understand that he would never walk away from his family, not even for their love. He wanted them to be independent yet submissive to him, mainly in the bedroom. He enjoyed caring for and pampering his lovers, showing them they were the center of his world while needing them to be his safe space.

Truthfully, in the past few days, he had enjoyed watching the little doctor's green eyes burn with fire, and his cheeks turn pink as he got riled up before storming off to gods knew where. He would never admit that Tallen was right, and he had been checking out the doctor a little more each time they saw each other. Little Doctor Ellington was adorable and had some flavors Othello appreciated in a bed partner, from his petite stature to a nice-toned and svelte build. The doctor had beautiful eyes that reminded him of an angel from his dreams. He also had attractive lips, flawless skin, and a dimpled smile. His eyebrows were thick and perfectly arched, and his long lashes rested on his high cheekbones.

“Boss, you're still smiling. What are you thinking about?” Tallen said, breaking into his thoughts.

“About you going to school,” he said, changing the subject. Othello had been trying to convince Tallen to attend college to further his advancement in the family.

“Boss, I’m not school material,” Tallen said, scratching the back of his neck.

Othello shook his head— this kid . “I’m getting out of this place in two days,” he said, dropping the subject for now.

“Really?” Tallen exclaimed. “About damn time. We’ve all missed you, boss.”

Othello smiled. “Same here. I can’t wait to sleep in my own damn bed. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Oh, I’ve got news. We caught one guy who was involved in the ambush.”

“How? When?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how it happened. Yesterday, Consig Iago got a call and rushed out of the morning meeting with the city bosses who were involved and came back five hours later with some dude that was all beat to shit but still breathing.”

That’s why he didn’t come and see me yesterday. “ Where is he? The guy?”

“Since he won’t talk, we have him locked up in The Pen. The don figures a little more torture will get him to talk.”

The Pen was a pit for illegal fights and gambling and a whole host of things that would have the cops knocking at his front door if they knew what really went down in the club. The Pen was only open twice a week, and the only way to get in was by invitation and a password that changed every week and never duplicated. The Pen had a jail cell built in the club's basement for hard-to-deal-with clientele. It was nothing like his other two establishments, Mirage and Starlight Haven. Othello had won the deed to Mirage in a poker match with Roderigo, an influential businessman with his hands in pockets they shouldn’t have been in. Othello would admit that he and Roderigo were not and never would be best friends; in fact, he hated the man with every breath he took. But he kept the man at arm’s length even though the businessman was Iago's close friend.

At that thought, he looked at Tallen. “Did anyone check into Roderigo’s activities before and after the ambush?”

The Mirage was a strip club that offered more than just a couple of lap dances. Besides the expensive drinks and the talented strippers, clients were able to rent out high-priced escorts available to fulfill any man's or woman's dreams, whether for a day, night, months, or even a year. Othello conducted most of his illegal activities at The Pen and Mirage, which left Starlight Haven clean but offered many amenities to his clientele. The Starlight Haven kept the cops from looking too deep into the family's affairs. It was in the factory district and about ten or fifteen minutes walk from his apartment. He liked the Starlight Haven, but the Mirage padded his pockets, keeping his Smurfs busy, not just counting and distributing the large bills they took in within just one night but also keeping track of their gambling websites. When Othello took it over, the damn club was oozing money but getting nothing in return. Othello knew the man had an ax to grind with him and wanted his club back, but he didn’t want to think Roderigo would be stupid enough to put Iago and Don Alessandro in danger trying to get to him.

“I think so,” Tallen said. “Honestly, boss, the don looked into every one. I know we investigated if there were any Rizzo leftovers, but we took care of all of them. But we still don’t know who did it. Until that fucker talks, we’re back to square one.”

Othello sighed and leaned against the window, feeling unsettled. He had hoped they would have more information by now. But there wasn’t anything he could do until he left the hospital.

Two days later, Othello was wheeled out of the hospital by Tallen, with Iago by his side. He was finally leaving and couldn’t be happier, but he had a shit ton of instructions about what he could and couldn’t do for the next couple of months. Othello didn’t care as long as he was heading home. He had hoped to see the cute doctor, maybe see him blush with frustration again, but the man was stuck in another surgery. Mentally shrugging, Othello looked at his friend.

“Make sure I never go through that shit again,” he said.

Iago quirked a brow. “What, didn’t like the accommodation?”

“Not the best way to spend my two-week vacation, that’s for sure,” he grumbled, standing from the wheelchair. “Alright, let’s head home. I have things to do.”

“I’m glad you’re alive.” Iago smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Me too, bro.” They shared an understanding and then walked shoulder to shoulder to the car, their bond forever cemented.