Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 62. Chapter 62

Leaving Malta

I was being honest with what I said about the fear. A little fear would help me stay focused when on task. I wasn't afraid of people. God, no. I believe grandma passed that along with all the other things with her many words of wisdom. She told me she felt it, too. Every single time before she went out on stage she told me she had fear. In her situation these people came to see a good performance. The fear that she would miss a step or lose count of steps she needed to do was there. She couldn't let them down. Grandpa also told me when he was put in charge of some soldiers and given orders, he feared he would get them killed. Forget that the enemy was firing on them to do just that. He didn't want to make a bad decision that exposed the men more danger than there was and get them killed. Being a prince now (my mind still told me that was an error) I would be given responsibility over millions of lives. I needed that fear to always remember they were a very high, high priority. I was honest with them from the beginning, telling them at the Proposal, Peter was my top priority. My presence was for him and all my support when with him. That fear would help keep that in my mind when I did the job.

I was truly moved by the sincere words of these men. I never tried to be popular. Grandpa taught me that it was fickle and lost so easily it was less work not to waste my time on it. When I would have liked to be popular, I didn't get it. When I wasn't seeking or want it, I was. That wasn't to easy in those teenage years.

Lisa Garner. That girl was very popular in middle and high school. What did she do? She was very pretty and blond. A cheerleader. She had all the athletes pining for her and the girls all wanted to be her best friend. She was like a star because of all the satellites that surrounded her just fell in the gravitational pull. After we graduated she tried her luck to become a spokesperson for businesses locally on TV. She wanted to cash in on that popularity. It didn't work. She was stuck in those high school years, didn't change her look and...the camera didn't really like her. And the dialogue...I know. That horse is dead. No point to keep beating on him, but you get the picture.

The Birdcage had entertainers. Very good entertainers. Not someone who would lip sync some song made famous by someone else...and used that same voice to make us think they were singing it! These people really sang! Very well. I didn't mind shows performed in drag, but whomever that was that sang the song “Won't You Play Me, that jazz hot baby” from Victor Victoria. He would give Julie Andrews a run for her money. He was good. Most guys close their legs imagining the pain felt in sympathy with the performer. Even if it were reversed. Julie was a woman, pretending to be a man, pretending to be a woman. Reverse all that. He/she was damned good!

We gave permission for photographs to be taken and hung if Mr. Mulholland wanted. NapolEasts was doing it now, I knew it.

Even here on Malta people told friends by phone we were here and came to see us. The paparazzi, if not on Malta had to catch a ferry to get here. We skipped that drama.

I will say, drunks in this area of the world, Italy, Greece and Malta were a better class of drunk. There are many Americans that qualify for that class, too, but we saw in Corfu the low quality of American drunk at that club on the beach where I taught some people to shag. The dance?

Anyway, there were plenty of responsible drinkers here.

“We owe Mario and Maria Basso a huge debt.” I smiled at Peter. “Mario for sure.”

Peter laughed a little, but was nodding. “I absolutely agree. The use of the island last year and this year. His sister's yacht...”

I leaned away a little. “And you didn't like him at first.”

Peter held his arm and shrugged. “The only thing I knew was a man was doing God knew what with our mother!”

I chuckled. “God knows what?” I repeated in disbelief. Peter was nodding as I spoke. “You know what it is.”

“With Mom!” Peter still nodded. “I know, I know...it's stupid...”

“It's not stupid to be protective,” I grinned running my hand over his face gently. “You love her.” I smiled. “It can be hard for adults to except their children are sexual beings.” I shrugged. “Or that your parents are sexual beings.” I smiled at him calmly. “Do what we advice others to do with us. Don't think about the what or how, think or why we do it. He does love Mom.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “He does.”

We stayed some more and danced again some and have another drink, telling Mr. Mulholland for a pleasant visit to the Birdcage. We weren't drunk, but felt good.

“How long will we be traveling today?” Peter asked.

“Mario's island is above Sicily and a little to the East. If he doesn't encounter problems we should there early morning tomorrow.”

We traveled on foot. Were we followed? Maybe, but the Duchess was ready again. Once again Gretchen did a head count and let Luke know all were here. The engines rose in sound slightly and the Duchess pushed her way clear of her berth and moved slowly away from Malta. Our agents stopped being our agents as much and were friends we told “see you later.”

In our quarters, I went straight to the desktop and typed quickly. Peter chuckled.

“I admire your restraint.” Peter grinned. “I had no idea.”

“Oh, be quiet.” I said lightly to him. “You wanted to know, too.”

I typed what I'd seen. The Official Website for Prince Petro and Prince Eric Ivanov. The page came right up. There we stood in our tuxedos and the grand staircase behind us. This was not an extension of Makarovia's Webpage. It was a site just for Peter and myself.

There was a link to Makarovia's Webpage, but there were things not related to Makarovia or what was happening in Makarovia. There a link to the story about Podgorica. I clicked on it and saw Zdravko Cimlbajevic having a yell out with their Prime Minister or President. People behind Zdravko were yelling at people behind the President. You didn't need to be a student of Psychology to know, even if you didn't understand the verbal language. It was recorded by someone at the “protest?”

Another clip I smiled at. Pano at his bar counter wiping whatever off with a clean white rag. Pano was even bigger on television he was interviewed by a local news network and a reporter was asking him if he was surprised by our visit. The news program was captioned in English.

Pano chuckled and nodded. “You better believe it. It took a while for it to sink in they were really here.”

“And came back.” The reporter said laughing.

“Yes!” Pano nodded. “They did. Two of the nicest guys you ever hope to meet.” He pointed to a wall with a large picture. I remember getting pictures taken, but this picture was blown up. Bigger than some television monitors. Pano and Barry had Peter and me in between them. Pano had to stoop to get that one. Large letters went across it. In Greek! Then I spotted on the side. “Prince Petro and Prince Eric Love Big's”

I shook my head reading that, but felt good about it. We saw who put this page or series of pages together. “Wayne Jenkins?” Peter wasn't really asking me.

“It sort of makes sense.” I thought out loud. “He has access to all Drew's pictures and Drew has access to the news feeds...” I said as I thought. As much as I hate to admit it, Wayne wasn't the big moneymaker between them. Few men are content being the second income. Feeling they were being supported. A wife does that. Not men. Grandma made more than grandpa a while and was fine with it. He was a rare man. However, his views, like mine, were to support the other.

I never even thought about what I was earning as a prince. I didn't know if I earned anything. I knew the “family” got a portion of the income that was put in an account for us so we could keep on working. Peter and I used it going to all these clubs and restaurants. Was there a limit? There had to be and who oversaw the spending? Did it run low at times? I had a lot to learn.

Off topic. Right. No side bar! Got it.

Wayne was the one of the two that cooked and cleaned. The only time I could see Drew pushing a vacuum was after Wayne asked him to and had to point out the areas that needed it most. Drew probably didn't notice. Wayne had a job, but he also had the time when Drew went to a location and Wayne couldn't.

Then I saw what Mr. Mulholland meant about the counter. There were 663,416 on the counter now. It hadn't been up more that a week! Mr. Mulholland said none of these in the number were Makarovians. I scrolled down and wasn't surprised as a video window opened. Websites had commercials and ads. On our Webpage? I was ready to shut it down when I saw Wayne's face appear. He smiled. “I'm Wayne Jenkins. I created all this.” He pointed all around himself, but clearly meant the Website. “I met Peter and Eric before the Proposal over a year ago.” He chuckled. “They became friends with us pretty quickly and have remained good friends ever since. They are what you see. Smart, kind, generous and absolutely honest. Two men you would proud of introducing to close friends and family. They didn't back away from the challenge of just accepted as people.”

“They did it in front of the whole world, bringing out dangerous people who have even threatened to kill them.” He being Wayne he pointed. “If you haven't seen the attack in London, it's right over there. It's pretty intense. They aren't running for any office. I'm not selling anything. If you are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, transsexual, queer, questioning, inter-sexual or pan-sexual or even straight...if there is a label you carry that makes you feel left out. Tell them that. They go where we are not welcome. They are welcomed. Whether it's political or just to get what is wanted or needed. I want my friends to know, they represent me. They represent Drew, my husband. I want those that meet with them, Peter and Eric stand for Drew and me, too. There are hundreds signing all the time! Add your name, let them know they represent you, too!” His image closed and the counter came up that read 663,578 now.

“Damn.” I let out softly seeing the number change again before my eyes. There were millions like Peter and me in the world. I knew that. Many were just different, but people!

“Yeah.” Peter said softly sitting next to me heavily as if the news was too much for him to remain standing. “You said it. Damn.” He raised his hands in futility. “All because we got married!?”

I turned to him grinning. “You're still having trouble with the fact that no one's done it before. That and a wedding at the level ours was done.”

“You're okay with it!?” Peter balked.

“It doesn't matter.” I said pulling him up. “It just is.”

“Being a prince needs to frighten you to do a good job, but this you just accept.” Peter shook his head. “I don't get it.”

I nodded. “I know over here is Makarovia,” I raised my right hand, “where lives are in danger if I make a bad decision.” I held my other hand up. “Here are all those people asking me to stand up for them because they can't be there.” I shrugged. “Or be welcomed if they did.” I raised the other hand again. “Lives,” I raised the other. “Ideals, perspectives and ignorance.”

“You do want this!”

I rolled my eyes pushing him back on the bed. “You found me out. I planned it from the beginning. I would go to the University, meet a prince, marry him, become a prince myself and become a symbol of acceptance for the whole LGBT community in the world.”

Peter's own eyes rolled as he rolled over me. “Be serious. This doesn't give you fear?”

“I feel the awesome responsibility they're giving us and trusting us with.” I admitted. “But think about it. We didn't really come out Saturday before last. We came out over a year ago. We've been interviewed many times on some television shows that went everywhere. We told them what we intended to do over and over. No one was gasping in surprise or shock when we did it.”

“How do we act?” Peter asked uncertain.

“Forget about them.”

“What!?”

“Stop!” I said firmly as I saw the beginnings of stress and possibly a panic attack in his eyes and on his face. “You can't function if that's all you think about.” I said calmly. “We have been watched a whole year and still they have elected for us to stand for them. Just be who you are.” I kissed him gently. “Don't go backward. You've come so far.” Pulling his to my world mine I pressed our foreheads together. “You are my world. I won't let you go.”

He smiled. “I believe you.”

We'd gotten sweaty dancing. Going to bed that way on those clean, sweet smelling sheets would be a crime. I had a thought cross my mind of the water supply. I knew there were things that desalinates and purifiers water on the Duchess and let my concern about wasting fresh water go. We took one in that morning, before we went out and took another when we returned. How many showers have you taken in a day?

Peter was a different man for many people. He was still the same for me. I had to coax him out in the first weeks we met, but once he got his confidence with me, he was fine. Until the White House, but that was taken care of quickly. Being surprised by this seemingly sudden notoriety was just too fast for him to adjust his mind to quickly. Until this one, he hadn't had anything like it months. It wouldn't be a problem. We were never separated long. It was inevitable that there would be a conflict and we would have to. I dreaded it. Not for just him, but for me! The thought of him not with me for even a day made me queasy. I'd have talk to Wayne. Or Boris. They did that sometimes when one or both got more training.

I made a point of setting my watch alarm. We showered again and went downstairs. I mean downstairs to the lower decks where the crew and our agents stayed, slept and ate. At this particular time of day included Captain Agius. He could eat up on the bridge level, but he got along well with the crew and maintained that connection eating with them. And poor Henri! On the level with the galley he fed Peter and me. Then up to feed Luke and down to feed the crew? Henri would be exhausted. Even if he had help.

They all looked up surprised. Most of the Duchess crew were in uniform. Our agents were just in street clothes. It was a long room with triangular tables where they all ate together.

It smelled great down here from delicious foods.

Henri came in and froze. “You're up!” He looking like he was going to panic. “You usually don't get up for a few more hours! It's your honeymoon!” He thought about his options and found none. “I'm not ready!”

I reached over and touched his arm. “Simmer down.” I chuckled. “Is it possible to join you? Whatever you've made smells great.”

“It doesn't go with the theme.” Henri said lightly.

“We can skip one meal with seafood. Do you have something prepared for us that you have to use today?” Peter asked. “We know how you are with freezing making this in advance..”

“No,” Henri shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

Captain Agius stood a little. “You're more than welcome to join us.” He waved to some empty chairs.

“You may need to add batter.” Cosmo laughed. “How many waffles do you have, Mercea?”

Mercea looked at the two and a half eaten one on his plate. There evidence there were more once and they weren't those small ones either. “Ium 'as 'ungry!” He said protesting with a little difficulty as he still had some in his mouth.

Mikell chuckled. “At least he has the good sense to eat a good breakfast and not wait until we're out in public where his stomach announces to the public he wants to eat.” He said and looked directly at Alec.

“I did eat breakfast,” Alec stated. “Hours before that!”

I laughed lightly. They easily went back in that friendly banter of comrades. I looked and counted. They were all here. All of the Duchess crew and our agents. I looked at Luke. “Forgive my ignorance, Captain. What I know about large modern ships you can put in your pocket and still have a lot of room for other things.” I waved at them. “Since you're all here not worried, I'm not worried either. Who's steering the Duchess?”

“The Duchess.” He answered smugly with a grin knowing I would react at that. “She has an autopilot. I set the heading and set the desired speed and she takes it from there.”

Peter looked startled. “No one's up there now?”

“The Duchess is.” Luke smiled at Peter's widening eyes.

“What about other boats and things in the water or even just under the surface? I read a book about a disaster that had that.” Peter asked quickly like someone should check. Right now.

“The Duchess sees them long before we can or even would.” Luke said calmly. He pulled his phone out again. “I told you, she talks to me. How deep the water is beneath us and and what's down there we wouldn't see until it was too late or not at all.” He looked at his screen. “There isn't so much as a fishing boat within twenty clicks.” He looked at us. “There is a pod of whales five miles west. Pretty big ones, too.”

Peter nodded a little less worried. “Oh, okay.”

I bumped Peter lightly. “We've got a sunroof and cruise control on this baby! All the bells and whistles.”

“I'll Self admitted landlubber.” Peter said. “He was raised on the coast. We had enough water to get our feet wet.” He leaned toward me to be heard even if he seemed to be saying confidentially to me. “I'll ask what whistles or bells work here later.”

I chuckled. “I'll be here. The biggest boat I had was a fishing boat with an outboard motor providing the power and steered by.” I said. “I think it could easily fit in the Duchesses swimming pool on deck.”

The general mood was what I hoped would happen.

“That sounds charming!” Luke smiled.

“Says the man in the Lamborghini as it pulls next an old S3D.” Rolph laughed and pointed at Mikell who was nodding at hearing it. “Remember those?” Everyone else just stared not understanding.

“I do!” Mikell said and tried to explain. “It was this...box thing. A tiny two door car brought in from Russia in the 1970s allowing their non-commissioned officers a way to travel in Makarovia but save gas, too. There were three just abandoned after a few years and when the Soviets left. Just left the cars. A neighbor had one he worked on until he successfully got it running and painted it bright lemon yellow. There weren't that many cars in Makarovia, but he had one.”

“Sure,” Rolph nodded chuckling. “In the summer.”

Mikell shrugged. “It's better than most of us had!”

Henri came with more batter and was going to make ours.

“Did you make theirs?” I asked pointing at the table of conversations going on.

“No, Gretchen showed them what to do.”

I took the batter. “It will be safer if I do it.” I looked at Henri's somewhat disappointed face. “You love to cook. We love whatever you cook. You can't be replaced, Henri. Peter and I joked discussed ways of kidnapping you to Boston, but we can't do that to our Future Step Aunt Maria. We want to come back to the Duchess and insist you visit us in Makarovia or Boston.” I grinned. “Or both!”

Henri smiled nodding and whispered. “His cooking was that bad?”

I nodded and said. “I wasn't exaggerating. I have no idea what it was.” I looked at Henri's Do It Yourself spread. I had more than enough for two waffles and maple candied bacon. I pointed to the juices and coffee to Peter. There were muffins, biscuits, scones, jellies and creamy, softened butter. Peter was going to get those, but Henri brought our favorite coffees and shrugged. He was helpless not to do something.

I knew Peter and made him a Southwest Texas Sized Tex-Mex omelet with chopped ham, some sausage I chopped up and cheese with Tabasco Sauce. I looked up when I noticed the conversation around me had stopped and noticed they were staring at what I was doing. Our two female crew members were laughing together not at me, but enjoying the men having a hard time with it for some reason.

“Чорт!” Alec said. Damn.

I looked at them curiously. “What? I simply made our breakfast. Didn't you?”

“Nothing like what you whipped up in less than a half an hour.” Mikell stated and looked at his watch. “Less than a half an hour.”

“Does he do this for you often?” Rolph asked Peter.

“Not as much as I used to.” I answered for Peter. “I had to.”

“Why?” Gretchen asked.

Peter put on a frowning sneer. “Who or what do you call when there's a disaster like a fire on the Duchess at sea? Mayday? Does 911 work out here? You'd better know, because if I were allowed to cook you'll be calling someone pretty quickly.” There was general laughter from everyone.

“Each couple has one that's stronger in one area than the other.” I said sitting beside Peter with my breakfast. “For us, it's cooking.” I looked up at Luke. “When are we arriving at Mario's Island, Captain?”

He thought. “We're going on the West side of Sicily. It will be the quickest way.” He looked concerned a little. “We can go faster if you need to.”

I shook my head. “It's not that.”

Peter sighed. “He's worried he might hurt Yuri's feelings when we tell him how to do his job.” Peter growled lightly. They knew that was a concern with me.

“But you're the Prince.” Mercea said not understanding. “If you think you want something, he has to make it work. That's his job.”

“Your first meeting with Yuri,” Peter began smiling. “We were going shopping and he wanted to go with us to protect me. You questioned that, even spoke in Russian which he didn't expect. He let me go.”

“You went,” I corrected. “He didn't let you do anything.”

“My point is,” Peter began again. “You weren't worried about his feelings then.”

“I didn't know him at the time!” I said. “Now I do. I love that crazy Russian!”

Luke smiled. “It sounds like you need to make a command decision.”

“I don't want to hurt his feelings.” I explained weakly. “He's a great guy. A little stiff with protocols and...”

“Wait. Back up a minute.” Cosmo said stopping the conversation. He looked at me and asked me in real shock. “Yuri...” he said specifically to make sure he was the one he knew, “has feelings!?”