Page 11 of Spread Your Wings
“Queen is dead.” For once, Mustafa’s lips thinned to a flat line across his face instead of curving up.
“Tribute concert. April twentieth. I’m going. I bought a ticket for Gavin, too. Guess I’ll have to scalp it, now.”
“Whose tribute? Cover band?”
“The other three band members, and a host of chart-toppers. Metallica. George Michael. Elton John.”
Mustafa’s smile returned with extra wattage. “I love him. ‘Tiny Dancer.’ Amazing song.”
“Well, he’ll be singing Queen songs.”
“Which one? He doesn’t have Freddie’s…” Mustafa waved his fingers up and down his throat.
“Range?”
Mustafa nodded.
“Nobody does.”
“One day he announces he has AIDS, and the next, he’s gone. Such a shame.” Mustafa patted Sammy’s shoulder. “Have fun at the concert.”
“Thanks.”
Mustafa perched on the next barstool and asked the bartender for seltzer water. “Uncle Vasily will be here soon. No work today.”
“What does he do?”
“Pilot. Here to Vienna. Cargo, mostly.”
Sammy wasn’t sure what he expected Mustafa’s uncle to do for a living. Flying planes? Not what he imagined, especially after the way Mustafa had hunkered in the car in front of the bath house.
“He’s not your real uncle,” Sammy guessed.
“Friend of my father’s,” Mustafa said. “His family is Croat. They disowned him.”
Sammy didn’t ask, but he knew when Uncle Vasily walked in, another envelope in hand. He wasn’t effeminate, per se, but he had a vibe Sammy could sense in a crowd.Peder. Gay.
The way Mustafa reacted, they had history, but not recent. Or maybe the relationship meant nothing to either of them.
Vasily stood at the entrance to the bar and waited.
“We should go somewhere more private,” Mustafa said, sliding off the barstool.
Sammy followed. “My room?”
Mustafa frowned like he wanted to say no, but they’d reached Vasily at the doorway. Mustafa introduced them. Sammy shook Vasily’s hand.
“You’re staying at the hotel?” Vasily asked. “Want to read your results in your room?”
Sammy glanced from Vasily to Mustafa, not sure how to protest. Reading his results should be private, not only behind closed doors but also alone. As much as he wanted to ask them to wait downstairs, he felt obligated to invite them to his room. Both Mustafa and Vasily had made the test possible. They should be a part of the results. Sammy could handle some discomfort if everything would be okay.
“It will be fine,” Vasily said, clapping him on the back.
Mustafa had promised Vasily would bring the doctor if his results were bad. Still, Sammy hesitated.
“Maybe we should wait for you in the bar,” Mustafa said.
“No, it will be fine.” Vasily’s sharp tone said he wouldn’t take any shit.
