Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 61. Chapter 61

Malta

After Dark

Dinner was again by candlelight and soft music in background. Once again Henri held himself back. He started us with Bouillabaisse. A fancy French name for fish soup. It had things in it like crab and shrimp. This one was lighter than some I've had. Some are really stews. They can be so heavy with a lot things. It was as all meals served by Henri were, delicious. Something he called Garithse Yiouvetsi. It was a Greek shrimp and pasta recipe. The Italians called such dishes macaroni and the meat sauce gravy. I wondered if it was the same for Greeks. I was going to ask. Again those wise sages in my life, Theodore and Katrina Sams guided me. If it's important enough, you'll remember to ask. Then you'll know. It must not have been important. For I didn't and don't. Yet, I live!

I had told Mikell the name of the club I would like to go to.

“What's the name again?” Peter asked.

I grinned and said in Makarovian and then English. “Ptashyna kliltka. The Birdcage.”

Peter thought and...he does not have a poker face any more than I do. There was the same sudden change on his face when he “got something.” All the lights of the house came on, not just the porch lights. “Oh, like that movie with Robin Williams and...and...” he snapped his fingers quickly to remember. “What was his name?” In that of telling me it was on the tip of his tongue and should remember.

How long do I let him struggle in the water before I threw him a line? Peter pounded his own head like that would knock the damned answer loose. I laughed and said. “Nathan...” I said the name slowly.

“Lane! Nathan Lane!” Peter said in triumph. “We watched it twice.”

I nodded. “It's a mandatory see for any homosexual male. That and To Wong Foo. If there's an exam for us to take. I know those two will be on it. Oh, and there's Priscilla: Queen of the Desert.” I looked at Peter. “I don't think you've seen that...”

“Is it?” Peter asked. “Is it The Birdcage?”

“I never saw much of the club on the Birdcage!” I said helplessly. “It had a stage and runway and two shots club layout seating wise.” I smiled. “The people of Malta were not always as accepting of us. It was twenty or thirty years ago they had to go to secret clubs and bars, too. When it ceased to be a problem they thought that was enough if everybody was accepted in a bar. Gays included. There are written testimonials of how it felt walking in holding hands with his partner. He was uncomfortable doing that. But a club for them, wouldn't be uncomfortable. Still the same laws. Everybody is welcome. Only this club welcomed straight couples into their club.” I watched his face as I spoke. “Get the difference?”

Peter came toward me and titled my head back a little. “You're still breathing normally.” He observed to see more of my eyes. “No dark circles under the eyes, They aren't bloodshot ” He waved at me. “How do you know all this?”

I nodded chuckling. “I read.”

“Apparently.” Peter muttered, “When?”

I grinned. “I looked up more than the sites on Malta.” I shrugged. “I think it's important to know. Like we did in Montenegro. We still went but knew there would be resistance.”

“So,” Peter began. “It is a birdcage but not the Birdcage.”

“Right.”

You know those scenes in movies or TV where this group of well dressed men form a posse or entourage and walked into where they knew the world was theirs and showed an easy confidence knowing everyone knew that and nothing would be denied? I love those, too! It's great in fiction, but that wasn't us. The security agents wore their suits and dark glasses. Oh, yes, there DFWM faces ready? Remember? The don't fuck with me face?

We were eight men walking up to a man letting some in and others to wait in the usual line. I thought that only happened in a few places in the world. This was one I guess. I looked on Mikell went to the man. Again, verbal language wasn't necessary. Mikell spoke telling who were. The man was a bouncer. He looked at Peter with an “are you serious expression. Mikell something made him pull an almost invisible microphone closer. It was attached to his head. How close did it need to be? It was only seconds before a casually well-dressed man came out in a hurry. Mikell said something a little heated. The man said quickly “no, no, no.” He moved quickly toward Peter and me. We were instantly surrounded by our security agents. That made the man stop.

“I am so sorry, your highness,” the man said. “The manager passed me a message you were coming. I didn't believe it.”

“He does this sort of thing a lot?” Peter asked.

“He gets excited when a celebrity comes to town.” The man admitted. “When he told me, I thought it was a joke Jack and some of the men working for me were pulling.” The man smiled. “I'm Don. Donald Hulholland. I own the Birdcage.”

“I was the one that called.” Mikell said in Makarovian. “I understand English, but sometimes miss undertones. “ He went back to English. “I just told him that the headlines will likely be on the visit. Who and where and who refused.”

“I'm not refusing!” Mr. Hulholland said quickly and bowed as reluctantly admitted. “I am stalling you to give my people get things ready.”

“Which could be actions in futility.” I smiled pointing at Mikell and the others. “They have to approve of it.”

“Could they do that now?” Peter asked.

Mr. Mulholland waved toward the entrance. “Of course!”

This time Alec and Mercea were to check. Those wanting to go in were speaking with whomever with them. Were we who they thought we were? I heard so and so said we were at Napolieats. Really? Pretty much make something up. It fits. The people inside already were probably very curious as to what was going on. We the two that came in lovers?

This took a little bit longer. Mercea came out. “One couple is refusing to cooperate. Otherwise, it's fine.”

“Who?” Mr. Mulholland asked quickly. Indignant. “Show me!”

We followed Mercea in and Mr. Mulholland saw the couple sitting firmly where they were. I hated doing it. They found a table and wanted to keep it. Who were we to force them out? I admit, it suited us perfectly. Near the emergency exit and the upper last tier of seats the surrounded a stage. If there was a performance. It was a good sized club. There were other tables. The music thumped that beat causing your heart to match it. “Can I tell them?”

Peter nodded. “We didn't come here to be seen or not be seen. Sure, tell them.”

Don Mulholland was a nice looking man in his late forties, but looked like he descended more from England, France or Germany. His skin was more like Peter's and mine. There wasn't the olive tone or black hair. I take that back, he had black hair that were turning gray at the temples. Greek and Italian men didn't normally have the premature gray hair. Mario certainly didn't. Mr. Mulholland went to the DJ's table demanded something and was handed a microphone and the music was killed instantly. “Max!!!”

Everyone looked at Mr. Mulholland. Including Max who was surprised.

“You...” he said something in a language I didn't know. “You...” again the language I didn't know, but they weren't compliments. “I am not losing any business because of you.” He shrugged. “I know you were asked to move by that gentleman, beside you but being the asshole you are, didn't want to. That man has a few friends that can persuade you. Well, I telling you have to or I cut you off now and forever.”

They knew each other, that was clear. Max and his date stirred.

“I mean now, Max.” He looked at us. We were in shadowed in darkness. “I was told, but didn't believe it. Until they showed up! Two Saturdays go, His Highness Petro Ivanov married Eric Richards, a man born and raised in the United States' South and is His Highness Prince Eric Ivanov and they are standing right there!” Someone was working a spotlight. Poorly. Finally came to us. We had removed the glasses so they could easily recognize us. That made several people gasp That it impossible for us to see anything. We out those glasses on and I'd gladly do a commercial for them. Free! It cut the glare down a lot. Many that had been dancing were stared, those in booths or sitting at the bar stared.

Peter went down and reached for Mr. Mulholland's microphone. He grinned. “We didn't want to interrupt you date or plans.”

I added. “And wouldn't just toss you out a good seat because we can. We will tell you why if you want. There is a reason, I promise.”

“May we join you?” Peter asked.

The response was a thunderous from all around us as they applauded and cheered us on from...everyone! I walked over to Mr. Mulholland. “I'm sorry about that. We didn't mean to cause problems.”

“You didn't,” Mr. Mulholland said, “Max did. He's a thorne in my side sometimes. Always has been.” He shrugged. “And not because of alcohol. He just is.”

Peter shook his head. “I still don't know how you thought it was a joke. Rumors heard, a phone call and later...”

“Yeah, well,” Mr. Mulholland began embarrassed. “I'm guilty of it, too. It's harmless, but they've gotten so complicated, you need others to help.” Mr. Mulholland shook his head. “I was going to show him I wasn't fooled a minute. I guess you did.”

I chuckled. “I'd say you were. At least you're friends enough to do that together.”

“Peter nodded. “That's nice to hear.”

Mr. Mulholland nodded and looked at us. “Understand when I say this.” He smiled. “I've seen everything that you've done on television or show about you two. You are Prince to Makarovia, but know...there are a few of us see you stepping out for us. I am honored and added my name to the counter. You're our Ambassadors. Your visits are making headlines, good and bad.”

We hadn't watched any television and didn't know. “Like who?” I asked. “What counter? Headlines?”

Mr. Mulholland chuckled. “Podgorica and the mayor of Montenegro. Muscosa and a Zdravko Cimbaljevic almost came to blows over how Montenegro was embarrassed and should be embarrassed on how they appeared as lousy hosts and it was going to change. Almost like an adult to a child for their naughty behavior. Ashamed. Then there was Athens. He shook his head. “This really big man who owns a place Big's. He was very big so it was the aptly named. The shows you did with Anderson Cooper and Ellen Degeneres. And shows about your family. They even got footage of your grandmother when was with the Bolshoi. She was hot!” He was a person that liked both. But hearing it said...she was my grandmother! Grandmother. “She was a beautiful dancer. That old footage of her in her teens was mind blowing. You are stepping out for millions of people. That tally was in the hundreds of thousand. No Makarovian was included, you are their prince! It will be in the millions!” Mr. Mulholland shook his head. “It's on your website.”

“Our website?” Peter asked dumbfounded. “Who put the website up?”

Mr. Mulholland smiled said something to a passing employee who nodded and raced off. “You don't know, do you?” Mr. Mulholland smiled bigger. “It claims to be approved by King Olek himself. And the people of Makarovia.”

The employee came back with something tucked under his arm and handed it to him. It was a laptop, but one I've only seen on TV. One you can type on a super thin keyboard or fold it back over the CPU and it becoming a touch screen. Hell, the whole thing was super thin. I worried about breaking it. Mr. Mulholland tapped quickly and showed us the site.

”The Official Website for Prince Petro and Prince Eric Ivanov.” I read aloud.

“It came out last Monday.” Mr. Mulholland chuckled. “You must have been busy.”

Peter looked asking for permission with his expression. Mulholland nodded. Peter tapped and soon pictures of Peter and I appeared in formal dress with the palace's elegant interior with the curved staircase as the background. Standing facing each other at the altar or podium. Our walk down the aisle newly married. And there were pictures of the bachelor party! Shots of everyone including Anderson Cooper. They were happy pictures and we hadn't gotten drunk yet.

“Only person could have done this.” I muttered glancing below each photo. “AHBBCNews.” Peter said at the same time as I did. “Drew.”

“It's all positive,” Peter waved at the computer. Looking for the credits never had time to do before. “There.” Peter said. “Approved by His Royal Majesty King Olek, Ivanov the Second and Her Royal Majesty Queen Alla Ivanov.” He smirked. “I guess letting the two of us know wasn't important enough.”

“That's Drew.” I dismissed that problem. “He likes those candid nor posed shots.” I remembered where we were and why. The crowd didn't know what to do.

I smiled not feeling really well about this news. “We hope we do a good job.” Talk about pressure.

I wasn't the only one that thought about that. Peter looked around the club. “What do we do?” He looked at the expectant faces.

I grinned at Peter, pulled him into a kiss. Glancing at Mikell. “Just go with it.” I took the microphone and asked. “It would be more fun if this club for dancing, if we had music to dance to.”

Peter shrugged. “Or go down as the quietest club we've gone to?”

Mr. Mulholland nodded to the DJ.

“We apparently have done well being ourselves.” I kissed him again. “Let's do that some more.” I grinned as the new song began. “The song is Keep on Dancin'. We do what it says!”

What I had apologized to Mikell for we had to do at first as what they had to do was to put a space perimeter between us and the other dancers. Our agents had a struggle. I will congratulate them all. Those DFWM faces really gave them “is he alive?” feeling. Try to pass him and he reacts so quickly like a cobra. I don't remind you about the Don't Fuck With Me face again, do I? Oh, I just did! Really, I don't that language, but...alright! Alright! No side bars. Moving on.

Peter pulled me toward him. Since we'd danced many times together it seemed low and key it was a single action. I leaned forward over him like I was overpowering as leaned backward as I moved over him almost touching. (Sometimes we did.) The magic of this dance was the desire to touch , you could, but didn't. Then I leaned back and away as Peter went to it to me. He'd pull me closer and I push away. I'd pull and he'd push away. T he pelvis was gyrated as he stepped between my legs again, so close but never touching. I'd do it to him. A place we did squeeze together and spun around together. Not each a single spin, but together a spin. You had to know your partner to not step on each others toes and feet. We both knew and didn't. Katrina taught me how to do it. It was like dirty dancing with guys. Not that the females wasn't there, they were. It didn't cross my mind to see if they were gay or something else. I knew these two women who were straight as arrows that loved to dance. She made friends with a few guys there. She loved to dance. They'd dance with her, but never went further. It could be scary at night. Men being men , they looked out for her. See that she got into a empty car. Just because we're gay doesn't can't be chivalrous or just a gentlemen. We use good manners.

As we hoped, that perimeter was established. I will also admit that dancing energetically with a lot of people will sometimes bump you. With the guys here, slowly down to two to remind them of the limit they could go. The others sat at our table to “keep” the table. I felt now we had an obligation to sit there. We had removed that Max guy and don't use it!? That would be a slap in the face to Max.

Again, Mercea went to retrieve our drinks. Laws on drinking differ from to country to country. It recently changed and raised. From sixteen to seventeen. I think even if he was underage, I don't think he'd be carded. He'd still be in high school.

Mercea's DFWM face was very good. It was steadfastly immobile, but had a touch of “I'm just mean” there too. Where did he pick that up that from? I knew he scared off wild animals with that face. He must have been coached to do this. Most of the time Mercea looked like he couldn't scare a kitten.

“I don't know how I feel about the website.” Peter admitted.

“We are under even more scrutiny?” I asked. “I don't know. We were more harassed last week.” I shrugged. “I just figured that was because we made ourselves more visible.” I looked up at Mikell. “I will admit something to you. “I mean you, too, Mikell.”

Mikell looked down at me. “I didn't do anything to deserve any of this.” I frowned. “I was chosen to help a classmate with English for a project due at the end of the semester.”

“All I did survive being born.” Peter grinned.

“I resisted the use of my feeling now.”

Mikell's eyes widened. Peter's narrowed. “What's the feeling?”

“Comfortable.” I admitted. Now the other agents including Mercea as he put our drinks out for us. “I am very willing to do the job. It always scared me a little. I'm not afraid to do the job. If I become more comfortable, I'll become complacent which will lead to me to think I deserve it.” I shrugged. “Because I don't.” I shook my head. “This is not false modesty.” I smiled a little pressing my chest. That fear is coming back, good.”

“How is being scared helping you?” Peter asked not understanding.

“Millions of people are depending on you and me, Peter.” I waved at him. “You'll be trying to improve the cities, towns and infrastructure. I will be inspecting the ore processors are up to and above code and waste handled as best it can be. I can't lose that focus to ensure I do the best I can. For Mikell, Mercea, Rolph and his beautiful wife and two precious girls...all of you. If I ever seem like I deserve it. Tell me.”

Alec smiled. “I don't think you ever could. You care too much.”

Mercea nodded getting a little of his innocence back for a second. “Like you told Mikell not to come down me about Sweethaven.” He nodded as I looked at Mikell. “I knew he would go ballistic right after I said it. I saw you talking to Mikell after we got there where you talked to him telling him not to. Didn't he?” He jutted his head in my direction. Mikell smiled, but didn't answer, which was in a way an answer.

“You made us feel part of a team,” Mikell added. “Not just agents to protect someone. We became friends. That's more than I ever thought would happen. You make sure we have time off and invited us to join you.”

“You are our prince.” Kosmo stated.