It was this crazy man all along. Mr N is such an enigma. The last time we had this conversation, it had started off well enough, with us making love and him cuddling with me thereafter. That was a big deal. Mr N never cuddles! Then I spoiled it all with my question.
“Hey…” I whispered into his ear. “Who is my fourth target?”
His eyes flew open and there was a look of confusion and disappointment. Then it was gone and he was all business as usual. He let go of me and stood up to get dressed. I immediately regretted my words.
“Don’t leave yet,” I said.
“I need to go. I’ll give you the last assignment tomorrow,” he had said coldly. He slammed the door on his way out. The next day, when we spoke, he gave me the run down on Nabil, who Mr N claimed was in love with his mistress, and I wondered why he’d want to sleep with me if that were the case.
Mr N: Men can have sex with absolutely no feelings or emotions.
Me: I get that. But if you were in love, why would you not reject being intimate with someone else?
Mr N: I could ask you the same thing.
Mr. N: Yes, you. Do you have feelings for anyone?
Me: (slight pause) Well, um…
Mr.: Yes or no?
Mr. N: And are you about to sleep with someone else?
Mr N: Case closed.
Later, he brought it up again.
Him: Who is it you have feelings for?
Him: Earlier you said you had feelings for someone. Who?
Me: It doesn’t matter. When do I meet Nabil?
Him: No time like the present. Today after work.
That evening, while we were having drinks with Nabil and his brother, Mr N brought it up for the third time.
“So, who is this guy you have feelings for?” he asked.
“O beware my lord of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on,” I responded.
“Othello. A gullible character that blindly trusts his subordinate, Lago, rather than his wife,” said Mr N, surprising me with his knowledge of Shakespeare.
“His life ultimately became a tragedy as a result of this lack of trust in his wife, Desdemona,” I say.
“Who are you in this story?” Mr N asked, shifting his gaze to me.
“Desdemona,” I replied.
He pauses. “Not Lago?” he asked.
“First of all, you don’t blindly trust me,” I said frowning.
“Secondly, you ask for whom I have feelings for when it is obvious they are for you. Thirdly, I think you’re jealous, which is self-defeatist because I need to sleep with other people to make you money.”
Mr N raised a sardonic brow at that remark.
“You are not Desdemona. Lago manipulates with his words, as you do. You expect me to believe you have feelings for me and you’re about to screw my friend here?”