Page 11 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

When Joe got back to 44 and¼Picketty Ruff, the boys were still banging around upstairs, so he dragged his duffel into the bathroom to shower and get ready for his interview. When he emerged twenty minutes later, Howie and Lenny were on the couch, hands folded, smiling mischievously.

“Look at you!” Howie exclaimed. “So handsome!”

“Not bad.” Lenny nodded approvingly. “Ripped crotch. Nice touch. Trampy, but not overboard.”

“Ronnie is a genius at gay stuff,” Joe said. “Can I see the attic yet?”

“We hope you like it,” Howie said, winking at Lenny.

Joe climbed up the attic ladder with his duffel. As soon as his head cleared the hatch, he let out a Hollywood-worthy gasp. The attic had been completely transformed. All the boxes were gone, and the shelves had been rearranged, creating enough room for a bureau, a fully made-up queen-sized mattress, and a nightstand with a campy lamp featuring a male hula dancer and a stack of old books.

“Do you like it?” Howie asked from just below Joe on the ladder.

“It’s incredible,” he said, stepping up into the newly created bedroom.

“The mattress is practically new!” Lenny shouted up. “We stole it—I meancommandeeredit from one of the houses we clean!”

“They won’t mind,” Howie added. “They’re Merv Griffin rich. Besides, they switched to waterbeds. By the way, that afghan was knitted by a wonderful transsexual up in Provincetown. The wool is from a herd of holy Guatemalan alpacas. Feel the energy. It’ll keep you safe from any terrible nightmares … or at least the useless ones.”

Joe dropped his duffel and rubbed his hands across the soft orange and brown afghan before letting his exhausted body fall onto the giant angel-food-cake mattress. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in,” he said. “Thank you so much. You really didn’t need to do all this.”

“Oh, poo!” Howie waved his hand. “We’re gay. We’d redecorate the inside of a milk carton given the chance.”

Joe got up from the bed to explore all that was new in the room, including a just-bought shiny padlock on the crawl space next to the ladder. “Is that where you stashed all your stuff?” he asked, stepping toward the small door. “Maybe I could also use it for a closet.”

Lenny leaped in front of Joe, blocking him. “You can’t go in there,” he snapped.

Joe jerked backward, noticing the anxious look in Lenny’s eyes. “But I was just—”

“What Lenny means is”—Howie tittered as if he were embarrassed by Lenny’s overly dramatic response—“we keep some very important things in there: old supplies, relics, and whatnot.”

“Relics?” Joe asked.

“Unfortunately, we’ve lost a number of friends over the past few years,” Howie said.

“One hundred and six in total,” Lenny chimed in glumly. “Eighty-two of ’em were close friends.”

“Eighty-two?”A lump of pain filled Joe’s throat. He had lost only Elliot, and the grief had paralyzed him. To have lost that many seemed unfathomable. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Joe.” Howie looked over to one of the group photos. “When we helped clean out their apartments, we wanted to keep what was most precious to them.”

“Or sometimes we just keptthem.” Lenny shrugged.

Joe offered a small laugh, assuming it was a joke. Lenny, however, did not laugh. The hairs on Joe’s neck prickled.

“As usual,” Howie said, smiling, “Lenny lacks nuance. Yes, there might be an urn or seven with some ashes, but mostly, as I said, just a few keepsakes, as well as our favorite old dance outfits and some crafting supplies.”

“Nice euphemism,” Lenny said.

“Shh,” Howie spat. “Now isn’t the time.” He turned to Joe and smiled. “The one thing we ask here is that we all respect one another’s private spaces. I’m sure you understand …”

“Of course.” Joe stepped away from the crawl space. “I promise not to be nosy.” To change the subject, he gestured to a desk that had been set up on the other side of the attic. “That wasn’t there before.”

“We figured you could use it.” Lenny crossed to the old oak executive desk with pride. “This way you can do your studying to get into medical school.”

The blood in Joe’s veins grew cold. “How do you know about that?” he asked, trying not to sound as disturbed as he was. “I never told you anything about med school.”

“Don’t get your jockeys into a knot.” Lenny groaned as he fiddled with a vase of fresh African daisies on the desk. “Parfait Bob over at the liquor store gave us the skinny.”

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