MB and I hang out in Italy for a while with Boyfriend, Girlfriend and Boyfriend’s family. We travel to small towns around the area and go to lavish parties that I most likely wouldn’t be going to under normal circumstances. It was quite refreshing to not have every person I meet ask me or MB what we do for a living. In the States, everyone always gets around to asking that when I meet them. But, I guess when your brother is the king, you can pretty much do whatever you want and no one asks anything. (I have to say, I really wanted to ask it of a few people.) We meet people who talk about having lunch in London that day and going to Nice for the weekend. I’m wondering what the heck kind of job they have that pays for that life and how do they get so much time off? Instead, I settle myself into the fact that I am now in a world I know little of, where people don’t work for a living. I’m ok living in that life for a while. The bank account is pretty full at the moment, I have no commitments in NYC so until that changes, I think I’ll stay in their world for a bit.
Boyfriend introduces us to Giant Bodyguard one day. Giant Bodyguard has been with his dad for years and is a few years older than Boyfriend so they’ve been friends for ages. GB takes care of Brother of a King but watches over Sister in Law of a King or Boyfriend’s Sister if either goes off alone. GB tells me he sized me up when we were in the car that day of shopping and wondered if I was a screwball because I was from NYC. Luckily, I passed. I start to like him when he’s not with the parents. He seems to be relaxed and jokes around more.
One morning, I’m up early walking though SIL of a King’s garden – it’s so pretty, smells wonderful and just gives me an amazing feeling being there. SIL of a K comes in and starts cutting off some flowers. She tells me her daughter is leaving tomorrow and there will be a party tonight so she’s rushing around today. Boyfriends sister is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. She lives at the South Pole. Almost literally. She flies to Argentina, goes to Terra del Fuego at the very southern tip, then goes to Antarctica for about a year. You just can’t top that kind of thing. “Where do you live?” “I live in New York City. Where do you live?” “I live in Antarctica.” She takes me to town that last day to buy a guitar for a colleague while Giant Bodyguard sits in the car. She tells me the people she works with have slowly bought instruments back with them to play down there. (They don’t exactly have neighbors that will complain about the noise.) Her friend has an old beat up guitar she bought from a fisherman on the mainland and her birthday is coming up. After the guitar shopping, Antarctica Sister goes in a lingerie shop saying she likes nice things under her thermal underwear at work. I, of course, don’t hesitate to get a pretty thong teddy to wear under my dress that night.
The party dwindles down so Giant Bodyguard and some of us go out to see Boyfriend’s brother play in a club. While they’re on stage, MB and I head for the bathroom before the set ends. The closet at the house isn’t as safe anymore so we’ve been staying in the boring bedroom lately. A trip to a club bathroom is just what is needed right about now. MB and I are both loving my new teddy. MB and I then lean against the bar people watching and laughing while the next band sets up. MB hugs me and all of a sudden, he freezes in his shoes and hugs me tighter. My eyes open wide as I run various scenarios in my mind. Has he just seen an old flame? Is something wrong? What’s happening behind me? MB whispers in my ear: “Holy shit” and grips me tighter. My mind races and I’m almost afraid to turn around. I’m thinking “Oh crap! We’re going to have to make a really quick exit out of here! My eyes dart around for Giant Bodyguard and the door as I say: “What is it??!! What’s happened??!!” But then, MB loosens his grip and starts to laugh. My mind is still flying around wondering how fast I can get out of there with my boyfriend who now has stupid nervous laughter. He whips me around and tells me to look at the drummer on stage. My eyes catch a glimpse of GB offstage and my heart begins to slow down a little. I look on stage for the drummer. It’s Antarctica Sister. “So what? Her brother is in a band, she plays drums. It’s a musical family. What’s the big deal? What are you freaking out about?” MB tells me to look at the kick drum. Holy crap! There on the front where every band has their name/logo/whatever, is a giant pair of drum sticks with skulls on the ends of them. The paper on the inside of the closet door! Oh, damn. AS knew we were in there. All those times we’d see the paper and wondered about it. It never prevented us from going in there, but we started to feel something wasn’t right about “our” closet.
All that time.