Page 13 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

Meat Rack?Joe thought, gathering it must be either another gay bar or perhaps a butcher shop.

Dory continued, “His gin running is why I’m here … it’s why we’re all here, I must say. If it weren’t for him getting rich off thehooch, then buying and selling property out here on the island, there might never have been a Pines nor a me nor an Elena nor … I’m sorry, I can ramble. Just tell me to shut up.”

“It’s okay,” Joe said. “I love hearing old stories like that.”

“You’re very sweet.” Dory smiled and stroked his cheek. “Anyway, any of the more complicated cocktails you can learn from a book behind the bar, isn’t that right, Elena?”

Elena finally, but briefly, looked up at Joe with an expression somewhere between disdain and deadpan. “Sure. Why not,” she mumbled before looking back down at her Tolstoy.

Joe couldn’t believe her rudeness. She could have just said something pleasant, even if she didn’t mean it—just as a sign of respect for her grandmother.

“I’m a pretty fast learner,” Joe said. “I was great in chemistry in high school.”

“Marvelous!” Dory gave one definitive clap of her hands. “I like your spirit. Howie was right as usual. You’re absolutely adorable! You’ll just have to meet Vince, the bar manager, but I’m almost certain he’ll love you.”

“Does that mean I have the job?” Joe asked, excitement bubbling around his heart.

“You do,” Dory said with a smile, “at least conditionally. Let me give Vince a call …”

Just then the front door pushed open, and a burst of bright light slapped the dim bar awake. There, standing in the door, was a man in his thirties, with a skinhead crew cut, black Fred Perry polo, and taut arms, mapped with rivers of veins and dozens of tattoos.

“Dory?” the man said with an Irish accent. “What are you doing here this time of day?”

“Well, look who it is.” Dory’s face lit up. “I was just about to call you. I’ve found our perfecthotbartender. This is Joe.”

Dory’s designation of Joe as a “hot” bartender made his cheeks and ears grow warm. Elena, looking up from her book, giggled at Joe’s embarrassment. Vince, however, did not look happy.

“Youfound our new bartender, is it?” The pique in Vince’s voice rose. “I thought we talked about this, Dor. As manager, I should be the one who decides on the second bartender.”

All of Joe’s excitement from a moment before bled out onto the dirty barroom floor. Once again he felt the chill of impending joblessness.

“I know you’re the manager, Vince,” Dory said, “but you’ve been interviewing for weeks, and I have this gut feeling about Joe—”

“Look, Dor, if you’re not going to trust my expertise, why in the bollox did you hire me in the first place?”

Joe saw that Elena had stopped reading her book and was now watching the tense exchange between Dory and the Irishman. She appeared not to like the disrespectful tone Vince was using with her grandmother.

“Vince, you don’t need to be so dramatic,” Dory said. “I do trust you, but the bar opens this weekend, and you can’t be bartending alone—”

“We can’t be feckin’ around, Dor, hiring any shitehawk piece of chicken that falls off the ferry.”

Joe felt Elena’s eyes skirt over to him. He tried to mask the wound of Vince’s comment, but his face, unfortunately, showed everything, so he looked down at the floor.

“Vincent,” Dory reprimanded. “Don’t be rude.”

“Apologies,” he mumbled. “Look, we have a limited amount of time to start making a profit before Scotty Black finally has a reason to—”

“Cork it, Lucky Charms!” Dory slapped her ring-covered hand on the counter as her eyes turned to black ice. Gone was the sweet, elegant grandmother.Herewas Dory the Boozehound, daughter of a bootlegger. “I’m well aware of the situation. And yes, you’re the manager, butIpay the checks. I’d suggest you remember that.” Vince’s tight lips softened, making him look more like a chastised son then an irate employee. Dory’s fierce black eyes melted into a cajoling twinkle. “Now, are we done with our little tantrum, Vincent?”

Vince rolled his eyes as a small smile battled its way onto his lips. Joe breathed a sigh of relief. That Dory and Vince clearly liked each other gave him some hope, but then he wondered,What exactly do they mean by “the situation”? Is the bar in trouble?

“I’m sorry, Dory,” Vince finally said. “I’m just a bit tense with the opening. You know how much I care about this bar.”

“I do, Vince,” Dory said. “That’s why I hired you: because we both care about this bar far more than we should. And you’re right, I should have consulted you before implying it was a done deal. It’s just when Howie Fishbein recommended Joe—”

“Howie recommended him?” For the first time Vince looked at Joe longer than for a few seconds.

“Exactly,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “So, does that mean you’d like to interview him or not?”

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