Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 48. Chapter 48

Corfu

We sat at the table again. When someone was cooking and did it well you could always smell the wonderful aromatic blend of the various things that were made. Since we were in Greece, I can use the analogy of sensing of it enticing me like a olfactory siren would sing to sailors in mythology where they would just lure them. These sailors were helpless not to be lured. We weren't being lured to our deaths, but it did make my hunger increase. We knew Henri would make something wonderful. He came out of the galley with two small plates covered with the silver metal covers. Lifting them quickly and the steam came up caressing our faces lovingly as the enticement just worked stronger. On each of our plates were four silver-dollar sized chubby disks. They were mushrooms stuffed with whitish meat that had just been browned to a nice color as it even sounded hot and delectible as it still sizzled and bubbled.

“You have mushrooms stuffed with fresh crab meat.” Henri told us. “I got the crab here today.” He almost left. “Oh,” he put a tiny silver jar down. It was not more than an inch or so high. It looked almost like a toy jar. “Some some Tabasco Pepper Sauce, if you want some. Of course, you know Tabasco Pepper Sauce is hot.” He confirmed as we both nodded. Now, my mouth was watering.

They were delicious. It almost didn't need Tabasco Sauce, but we tried a few drops and were not disappointed.

“I want more.” Peter stated sadly when he swallowed his last one.

I knew the feeling having it myself. “We're supposed to.” I chuckled. “That's why they're called,” I used finger quotes in the air, “appetizers.”

Again, Henri was watching that monitor and knew we were finished. Henri came out of the galley pushing a rolling cart. He took our used plates and looked at us slightly annoyed as he poured wine in two glasses. “I take a risk with you two each time I cook.”

My eyes widened. “Why?”

He shrugged and waved. “It is my peur.” He used a French word looking at us. “You understand phobie?” That word in French was so similar to the English word, I knew he meant phobia.

Peter looked a bit concerned, but knew what the word meant, too. “What about?”

“I have the fear that what I will make something you will not like or even have had it for lunch.” Henri said. “Is there a seafood you do not like?”

“No.” I chuckled as he really looked a little worried. “You're safe, Henri.”

Peter shook his head. “I haven't found seafood dish you've made I haven't liked.”

Henri nodded a little shrug. “C'est bon. I suggest you try the wine first. It's a Sauvignon Blanc.” He said it the way it was supposed to be in French. “It will cleanse the palette so you can get the full flavor of what you'll have tonight.” With another dramatic reveal, he raised a silver metal cover. The aroma was rich buttery, and slightly spicy due to the Cayenne Pepper. The sweet smell was a combination of the lobster meat and cognac. The size and shape of lobster tails was distinctive. “Lobster Thermidor!”

“Henri!” I balked. “You are deliberately tormenting us!” The huge smile on my face assured I was really enjoying the suffering he gave us.

That Frenchman smiled evilly. “Oui!!” He chuckled and went back toward the galley saying, “I am. Bon appetite!”

Peter took his first bite and he shook his head as he savored the flavor. “That man,” he sighed, “is just mean.”

I was enjoying mine. “Who cares? This is just damned good.”

Peter was munching on his and making some little sounds of pleasure and appreciation. It was as if he and that lobster were making love. I wasn't jealous. My lobster was making love to me!

Don't think Henri's creations were better than Boris'. Cooking was an art for both men! It was like,you see two paintings, one is a Monet and the other a Van Gogh. You love both paintings and think they're wonderful, but they are unique in style. If you know Oscar-Claude Monet and Vincent Van Gogh, you really know what I mean.

Peter and I changed into something a little more formal. Still casual, but nothing heavy or dark. It was warm out and dancing makes you sweat. The club Silk I found out had closed. Reading it shut down, I was sad a business failed until I read a comment that made me smile. They didn't need a club or bar for catering solely to gay people. The other clubs and bars were very open about allowing everyone. Silk was guilty of it, too. They allowed straight couples in, so having one exclusive to one group just didn't workout, but I didn't feel sorry about the reason. Whoever thought that club would work had to close. The club simply starved to death...financially. The owner had no choice or he, or she, might literally starve to death.

I doubted a club exclusive to the gay community wouldn't work in Makarovia, either.

I found a club highly rated very near us with dance as part of the name. There were a number of them, but this one was a kilometer or two away. It was an easy walk.

For the same reason I had earlier that day I asked Mikell and the men to dress comfortably. They wouldn't be dancing, so that was no problem with them sweating for that reason. They had a job to do.

Mikell smiled at me and said patiently. “Thank you. I know you're concerned about us, but if we dress too casually other customers there may try to dance with us.”

I nodded understanding his concern. “Fine.” They were not ugly men. It could happen. The oldest was approaching forty years of age. “Those dark glasses and that blank faces keep people away.” I was about to walk away, but looked at Mikell. “Even the Secret Service for the President of the United States has uniforms that are more casual. At least short sleeves. On the Internet I saw that in the Bahamas, they began making business suits for men that are shorts.” I thought. “They didn't show the shoes and socks though. Yuri and I need to talk about some black shorts and black polo shirts for you guys. I know Nike and some other manufacturers make sneakers and tennis shoes that look like bass wegens for business attire.”

Mikell smiled again. “You worry about everybody, don't you?”

“Of course.” I replied. “If there's a way to make your job less difficult and comfortable doing the job should looked into.”

He chuckled. “We'll be fine.”

The club was Kostas' Dance Club. There was only a little competition with the clubs as people chose a genre. It could be any decade and taste in music and atmosphere. Such as “the oldies” or contemporary. They all survived, except for Silk which closed because no one came. These clubs had been in Corfu for years. Kostas' wasn't a big club like many I'd seen, such as Jocks. And no one could compete with the cavernous Grotto at home in Makarovia.

The fact that it was a weeknight didn't really count. Not on an island where the population maybe greater than the residential population who were on vacation. Depending on your tastes and where your hotel was the factored in gave the choices.

Kostas' wasn't crowded with only three couples on the little dance floor. Others sat in booths to talk, drink and eat things to snack on while doing that. The same reaction to our presence happened as everywhere, so far. That was inside.

In the back was a good sized porch with tables and chairs. Here there were many more people made that hum of conversations and punctuated with the occasional louder laugh. The customers glanced up as we do when someone new arrives. At tables near us looked up at us and soon all were staring at us. A middle aged, heavyset woman at the closet table gasped and then slapped her heavyset male companion lightly on the arm.

“I told you!” She said to him with a very British accident. “Marcie swore she saw them!”

I couldn't know who Marcie was, but she'd told this woman who told the male companion, who evidently didn't believe that Marcie really had. His eyes widened as he now knew Marcie had told the truth! I wondered if he had to apologize to Marcie for not believing her. If he did, I knew his companion would insist he do that.

This club was right on a beach. The music from inside was being broadcast on the beach in one area that formed a circle with speakers. It was softer on the porch, but I could see dancing in that circle it was louder. There was a greater number of dancers dancing. There were maybe seventy or eighty people dancing. There were the usual couples, as in male and female. There were a few all male couples and some female couples. Hell, there was a group of three guys on one side and a group of five girls dancing together on the other side. Were they just friends or was there more? No one cared or bothered them. The music was the contemporary style of music. It didn't end but merged with a new song with a new beat once the current song faded out and concluded. It was often the kind played in clubs for the sole reason to dance. There were none of the flashing and blinking lights out here but it brightly lit.

What we saw was our arrival was having a rippling effect. Even the dancers began to stare as they stopped to see why some had stopped dancing. The music hadn't stopped.

“Is this okay?” I asked Mikell.

Mikell gave a hesitant nod as he was scanning the area. “Yees.” He said slowly which told me it was fine, but he didn't have to like it.

“None of these people knew we were coming here.” I waved at the many stares. “That's obvious.” I nodded again. “That doesn't mean someone won't come here and do us harm.”

Peter added. “We dealt with Yuri and his almost too strict coverage.”

“But we promised Yuri to listen to you.” I assured Mikell. “Do we stay or go? You tell us and we'll do it.”

Mikell's steely set face faltered as he thought. “You don't have answer to Yuri. He was scary. If anything happens to you, he'll kill me!”

I laughed at his almost teenage approach to Yuri's authority. “Did he threatened you could loose your head? I mean those exact words? You'll loose your head.”

Mikell nodded a little surprised. “Yes, he did.”

I chuckled. “He threatened me with the same thing in the first four months Peter and I got together. In those words when we went somewhere without Yuri.” Touching Mikell's arm. “He trusts you, or he wouldn't have left you in charge. We trust Yuri and therefore you.”

Then all he did was nod, but not to us, but to his men who moved into positions around Peter and me. Two beside Peter, two by me two behind us both. Mikell motioned for us to proceed to where we wanted to go. Mikell was right. Dressed in those black suits and wearing those dark, special night vision glasses, the people knew why our guards were here.

The problem I had was, if all Peter and I just wanted to do dance, we could have stayed on the Duchess and done that. Being at the club was so we could be with around people. Being unapproachable was not what I wanted people to see and think about us. To deal with that, someone had to break the ice. We decided it would be us.

We walked through the people drinking on the porch down to the beach sand dance floor. Eyes followed us as we went.

“It's just because they didn't expect us.” I said to Peter, but also to remind myself. “They're shocked we're here.” I took Peter's hand. “Let's get them partying again.”

As we walked toward them there was a parting as they slowly backed up to either let us through or to give us room. We were eight people. A pretty brown young woman in her early twenties with a handsome man our age blonde man about my height had also had been a jock in high school and college. He reminded me of Ted Dawe from Northeastern.

“What language do you speak?” I asked her in English.

“American.” She answered.

I smiled at her. She identified the language by the country and was kind of sweet. She wasn't stupid. It was just simple. I could see the blonde man cared about her as I saw he was preparing to potentially protect her from any confrontation. “Good! I speak American, too. Have you been here before?”

“Do you mean to Corfu?” She asked. “Gary and I came for our honeymoon.” It didn't seem like an act. I understood what Gary fell in love with. She was not a child, but had the childlike innocence she just radiated.

Gary had the beginnings of a smile. “Holly and I got married on the same day you did.” My reminder of Ted went away. He didn't have Ted's Alabama accent...or mine.

Peter chuckled. “You know when we got married. I guess we don't have to introduce ourselves.”

Gary laughed back now. “No, when you had your wedding in was earlier in California. We saw it though.” He pointed behind us at Mikell and the others. “Should we be talking? He doesn't look happy that we are.”

I looked back at Mikell. If he thought we were in danger he would have stopped us. There was his typical stony face. Smiling at Gary, “He and these boys just look like that. They're our bodyguards.”

Gary stuck his hand to us. “I'm Gary Coleman.” He put and arm around his wife. “This is my wife Holly.”

Okay, Peter turned on his charm mode taking her hand gently and kissed her on the knuckles. “A lovely name for a lovely lady.” Holly smiled relaxing.

The others on the dance floor began to dance again. They still stared a little.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” I said to them and looked at the dancers. I turned to Peter, but asked loud enough for Gary and Holly could hear. “Have you ever Shagged?” I realized how that could be interpreted by the British and what they meant by“shagging” and said quickly. “I should have asked...have you ever done the Shag Dance?”

Peter frowned. “No. I've never even heard of it.”

“It's a dance from South Carolina.” I said.

“Just South Carolina?” Peter asked grinning.

I nodded. “Other than starting the Civil War, we can claim the Shag. The Shag is something we can be proud of.” I waved to the sandy beach. “You do it on beaches in sand.” I looked at Gary and Holly. They had been actively dancing, so I asked them, too. “Care to try it? There's only a few steps.”

I noticed Holly had gotten over the shock of seeing us here and was relaxing now and smiled bigger. “My mother and father went to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina on a vacation and learned to do it there. I tried to learn it. Show it to me again?”

“If there's a lead, you have to do it.” Peter grinned.

“There isn't really a lead, just someone that starts the steps. I'll show you.” I said pulling Peter in the starting position. “You do the same steps I do, but on the opposite foot.” I gripped Peter's right hand. “Hold it, but keep it loose.” I moved my right foot forward a little. “Your left goes back.” Peter did it. “That's one.” My foot right moved to where we began and then moved back. “That's two.” I noticed that Gary and Holly were doing it, too. “Step on your left foot and move your right over and behind your left foot.” I saw Gary doing the same as we were and Holly the opposite. “That's three.” I stepped in place quickly. “Now do the same with the opposite foot. That's four.” My feet met parallel to where we started. “Five.” I stepped forward again. “Six.” I watched as Peter and our new friends did it. “Now, do it again.” We did that, too as I counted for them and after six I spun Peter around extending our distance, but held his hands and brought him to me. “The spin alone or together is what you add to give it your personal style.” I waved at Gary and Holly were both smiling now. “Just add what you want. Be creative, but just keep it fluid and loose.” Peter and I did it again. “Have fun.” I brought Peter up and pressed our bodies together and spun as one together and did it again. Holly was sweet and innocent, but a fast study. It was a safe bet she took ballet or top dancing as a child. The smoothness of her movements said it was ballet.

“Katrina taught you this?” Peter grinned.

“Actually,” I replied mockingly smug. “I taught her.” I smirked. “It's a rare thing to teach a prima-ballerina a dance she doesn't know.”

I looked at Mikell who had stepped back to give us room, but a ghost of a smile was on his face. We were just two couples doing the same dance. I noticed other dancers were trying to mimic our moves.

Soon the laughter of the others returned around us. Dance was something everybody liked to do.

A giggling laugh from Holly as Gary almost stepped on her foot. He watched his feet to keep it from happening again. They had the spins down. Not everyone of them did it, but others tried it. It could be slow or fast depending on the beat of the music. The songs here were pretty fast and it could be a tiring dance. Once Peter got the steps down we were doing the moves quicker.

It wasn't long when Gary stopped. “I need a breather.” He wasn't gasping, but needed to stop a while.

Peter looked at me. “A breather?” No one had said it to him.

“Pererva.” I said in Makarovian. The literal translation confused him. “Znayete, pauza.” Then I switched to English again. “To catch his breath.”

Peter nodded. “Oh, it's good to know he was planning to break a bone. I could use one myself.”

Gary was still smiling at the fun he had. “Can you join us? Maybe get a drink?”

“Sure.” Peter answered readily.

We got a table on the porch. “They don't have Servers here.” Gary said and pointed toward the inside bar. “We have to get them.”

“Please be seated, Mr. Coleman.” Mikell said startling Holly a little. She'd forgotten he was there. Mikell spoke English and there was the accent again. “What would you like to drink?”

We told him and Peter got his card out. “I'll get this round.”

Mikell didn't go get the drinks, but told one of the other five to do that.

Gary smiled at us. “What are the odds we'd be at the same club at the same time?”

“What's the population census now?” I asked. “Seven or eight billion?” I shrugged. “I'd guess about eight billion to one?”

“Why'd you stop with me?” Holly asked.

“You didn't back away.” I answered simply.

Holly smiled. “I was too surprised to move.”

“If I can ask,” Peter began. “Where are you from?”

“California.” They both said. Gary smiled at his wife. “We just moved to our apartment in South Beach, California. Between Carlsbad and Encinitas?”

I nodded. “I know where that is, but have never been there.”

“I don't.” Peter griped.

“It's inbetween Los Angeles and San Diego, but closer to San Diego.” I explained getting Peter's nod of understanding.

“Is the weather nice all year long?” Peter asked a little sourly.

“It's pretty good year round.” Gary said as a smile grew. “I saw the special for Christmas in Makarovia done by the BBC. It showed that area was buried in snow in Winter.”

“Yeah.” Peter muttered a little sadly. My giving him an apparently disapproving look, he said. “What? I'm jealous!” He explained.

I smiled touching his leg. “At first,we lived in a very tiny apartment in Boston. It gets cold there, but not like Makarovia.” I said to them. “Peter would be happy to go back.”

“In a split second.” Peter enforced. “We were very happy there.”

Holly frowned hearing that. “You live in a palace.” She couldn't understand why that wouldn't be better. “I also saw that on a show. It's beautiful! The house in Boston is beautiful, too but I've never seen inside it.”

“I don't want people to think of us as suffering,” I said with a smile. “We're not. What we did just had never been done. That's why they showed all that.”

“That was the real reason everyone wanted to see it.” Peter added softly. “Our all but forgotten country's history made it possible.”

The idea of giving anyone the impression of false modesty occurred to me. “We're just people. No better or worse than anyone. We came to Kostas' instead of staying where we were to be sociable. That requires other people. It's what we do as Humans.” I glanced as Mercea, the security guard came back with our drinks. Mercea had nice looking face, but a boyish one. He had the size and build, but I doubted he was more than twenty! He had gone into the guard as he graduated high school and did his mandatory two year service. This was his first assignment as a guard. He must have requested further training when he showed interest. Yuri wouldn't approve of him if he didn't show promise.

He bowed to us. “Forgive the delay, Your Highness.” He said in Makarovian and gave us our drinks from the tray and handed Peter a receipt. “You must sign this.”

Peter looked puzzled. “Was there a problem?”

Mercea looked at Gary and Holly and stuck to Makarovian. “The bartender and I had a disagreement.”

“About?” Peter asked also in Makarovian.

“He wanted proof of authorization,” Mercea replied.

“There's an eight hundred phone number on it.” Peter stated a little irritated.

Gary didn't understand what we were talking about. “Is there a problem?”

“I'll answer in a second.” Peter promised Gary politely, then back to speaking in Makarovian. “Did he call it?”

“That was the problem. He had no card number for him to give. Your passport is in the safe on the Duchess and you don't have a driver's license...” Mercea replied. “I even showed him the signed consent from his government. He used his own phone to call the number. The government's problem was no one answered very quickly.”

The problem was understandable. Swiping the card would have made the bank in Luxembourger call if they doubted it was us. That's why the Greek Government gave us the consent. The lawyer sent by Mario, Nicolo Cuomo, gave us a certified copy. “If it's like most countries, the government offices are closed at this time.” I offered the possibility. Whoever was to be there could have a good reason to not answer when the call came in.

Peter shook his head. “It's not your fault, Mercea.” He signed the receipt and handed it back. Smiling at Gary he explained what happen.

“Almost everyone recognized you.” Holly said. “How could anyone doubt that?”

Gary knew. “Because one, Peter wasn't the one using it and two, the one at the office couldn't see that.”

Peter nodded showing them the card. “And this is a special card. It has no numbers on it.”

The Makarovian Crest was on the red card and Prince Pedro Ivanov on it in shiny gold raised print.

“How does that work?” Gary asked.

“The eight hundred number it uses goes to the bank. They would have called if they suspected fraud. The Authorization Code has to be entered. The Card's Number and Authorization Code changes.” He shrugged. “It's a limited account that money goes in to use.”

“It can be complicated. For security.” I said simply.

We did dance a few more hours and drank one more round, but it was getting late. Others braved their approach to us because of Mikell and the boys. It was all good. There were nice, friendly people all around us. Then there was one. She wasn't even at Kostas'. She approached from the beach. She was a dark blond headed woman in her thirties. Staggering a little and the reason why was in her right hand and she was very drunk.

“Where are they?” She shouted, unfortunately it was English. American as Holly had said. “I heard those two queer princes were here.” Her speech was slurred.

Mikell and the other guards closed in on Peter and me to form a barrier against her.

She started to try to dance to the music and could barely keep her balance. “Come on,” she said to everyone here, “Those two fairy princes are here. You couldn't miss them, they have wings.” She fluttered her left hand like a wing and laughed at her own wittiness.

There were drinking laws in Greece, of course. The were no limits for the age of consumption. Purchasing it was only a decade ago was posted has to be eighteen. They drink in Greece. A lot. Even small children as young as eight were given a little wine at dinner, but you almost never see someone from Greece drunk. It was unmanly not holding your liquor and you were expected to be civil.

The Greeks did not tolerate drunk driving. It seemed as if the entire police department would be out would be out testing the breath of drivers. There were some very heavy fines if you are and stopped.

She was alone. My point was, the government and law enforcement expected that whoever they were with when drinking would stop her or they also faced very heavy fines. Were they also drunk?

The still crowded dance area sort of thinned as people moved to get away from her. “Is that them?” She asked pointing at Peter and me. She staggered closer.

Mikell, Mercea and the others closed any gap between them.

She looked annoyed now. “I don't want any of you.” She ran a hand over a breast. “They need to know what a real woman feels like.”

A man came running out of Kostas' and went to her. “Stop! You can't do this to my guests.” He grabbed her forearm.

She yanked her arm away. “Get off me!”

“Kyría!” The man from Kostas' shouted in Greek. I found out that was a courteous address like Ma'am or Madame. “I will not allow this.” He grabbed her arm again.

“What did you call me!?” And tried again to yank her arm away. “Don't touch me!!” She said angrily. “This man's assaulting me! Some one call the police!!”

“They're already coming. For you.” The man said to her and the siren I heard was not what I heard often in the United states.

“Dopomozhitʹ yomu.” Mikell told Mercea to help him. He turned to me and shrugged. “He's in training so still learning.” He explained calmly.

The policeman arrested her as she was shouting indignantly swearing she would sue them all. She wanted to see the faggot princes. She knew her rights! The Greek laws would also prosecute for harmful words meant to hurt someone.

The man running the club turned to us. “Your Highness, I am so sorry about what happened here. I hope it does not make you dislike your stay in Corfu.”

Peter stuck his hand out. “We love Kerkyra.”

The man smiled bigger hearing his home's name they called it.

I shook his hand. “You have a beautiful island and are a beautiful people.”

“And great food!” Peter chuckled rubbing his stomach.

The man nodded with a little bow. “I'm Deo Kostas. My father owns this and I manage it. I was surprised when I was told you are here.”

“We've had a marvelous time.” I said. “I know we'll be back.”

Deo was about to leave and stopped. “I'm also sorry about the card situation...it was unusual. My bartender didn't understand. I'll make sure we're ready next time.”

“It was understandable.” Peter acknowledge. “It worked in the end.”

Peter smiled at me. “I'm getting tired. Can we head back to the Duchess?”

Gary and Holly came over.

“Does that sort of thing happen often?” Gary asked pointing to where the police car had been. “I saw on the news where there was that shooting in Boston on TV and that attack in London.”

Peter nodded. “Often enough to need these personal guards.” He indicated our guards. “But not all the time.”

I stuck my hand out to him. “We'll be going. Bedtime, you know.” I said as I hugged Holly lightly.

“It's been a pleasure meeting you both.” Peter added.

“It's an honor meeting you.” Gary said laughing. “I was totally surprised. Unbelievable!”

“If you're in Boston or even decide to visit East Europe,” I said, “call the house in Boston. Don Wilson will answer and tell him and forward it to us wherever we are. You'll be welcomed.”

“If you're ever on the West Coast,” Gary smile, “call us.”

We might not become best friends, but no one can have too many.