Page 14 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

Vince nodded a thank-you before turning to Joe. “Fishbein recommended you, huh?”

“Yeah … yes,” Joe stammered.

“So, lad, tell me about your bartending experience.”

“I … um … don’t really have any.”

Vince ran a hand over his pained face. “Isn’t that precious.” He walked a step closer. “So how do you make a Harvey Wallbanger?”

“I’d have to remind myself with … um … that book behind the bar.” Joe thought fast. “But I bet it has Harvey’s Bristol Creme in it. Besides … um … nobody in this place is gonna drink anything more than beer, gin and tonics, and vodka cranberries …”

“Is that so …? Vince turned to Dory. “You want my official bartender interview, right?”

“Yes,” Dory said. “Act like we’re not even here. Be thorough.”

“Okay, then.” He turned back to Joe and commanded, “Take off your shirt.”

Joe’s face flushed as he checked to see if Vince was serious. He was. Elena, who had been sitting silently watching the whole thing, suddenly slammed her book down on the bar. “No, he won’t! That’s demeaning! Grandma, tell him he doesn’t have to!”

“Look, we want customers, right?” Vince said to both Dory and Elena. Then he yanked off his Fred Perry polo, exposing his own ripped chest. “It’s a shirtless bar—for all the staff.”

Joe stared in awe. Almost every inch of Vince was covered in tattoos, including Celtic crosses and footballers’ insignias. Circling his belly button was a cobra with fangs out toward the viewer. A tiny, copper-colored treasure trail beneath his belly button (the only hair on his torso) collided with a tattoo of red and orangeflames erupting from his crotch. Standing next to all of Vince’s tall, smooth muscle made Joe feel like aStar WarsEwok.

“You don’t need to do it, Joe,” Elena whispered.

Joe, who had written off Elena as stuck-up and unfriendly only minutes before, felt grateful that she had become his out-of-nowhere champion.

“This is business, Elena, darling,” Dory said. “I’m sorry, Joe, dear, but the shirt … lose it.”

“It’s okay.” Joe nodded to Elena before squeezing out of the tight T-shirt, getting his Swatch caught on the arm hole for a split second.

Elena shook her head, appalled, before walking to Joe’s side, her eyes warning Vince not to touch.

“Turn around,” Vince commanded. “Rear view is good. Turn back. Chest hair pattern has its merits. Flex.”

Joe obeyed. Vince’s expressionless eyes assessed his physique as if he were the third runner-up at the Westminster Dog Show. Before he met Elliot, Joe had always considered himself “end-of-the-night handsome”—believing that he was the kind of guy you’d only go home with given no other options. Elliot falling in love with him made Joe feel truly attractive for the first time in his life.Stop thinking about him,Joe berated himself.Now is not the time. Remember what Ronnie taught you. Look sexy!

“Well,” Vince sighed. “At least the two of us won’t be in competition with each other, which is good. And we can corner two markets the Promethean lacks. I’ll lure the customers that go for sexy, fit, football hooligans, and the lad here will attract those who prefer cuddly, cartoon-eyed, lost-boy types.”

While Joe was trying to wrap his head around Vince’s ability to simultaneously compliment and insult him, Dory smiled. “So are we hearing your approval, Vince? Was Howie right?”

“He’s rarely wrong,” Vince said with a surrendering chuckle.

“I’m glad I hired you, Vince.” Dory’s elegant grandma energy had returned. “Elena has agreed to help with the decor. She’s got quite the eye.”

Vince nodded his head at Elena. “Let’s keep it nautical and sleazy, if that’s okay.”

Elena smiled. “Sure,” she said. “Like a bordello at the bottom of the sea.” She put her arm around Joe’s shoulder. “Though we know who they’ll really be looking at—cartoon eyes and all.”

Joe did all he could not to start jumping up and down. He not only had a bartending job, but he also had both the owner and her granddaughter in his corner.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind”—Vince stepped behind the bar—“I’d like to get this bar opened by Friday afternoon. So if you fine ladies could leave wee Joe and me alone for a bit, he and I have some things to discuss.”

As they were leaving, Dory stopped to pat Joe’s cheek. “Come over to my house any time to talk, okay, my dear?”

After the door shut behind them, the bar was noticeably silent except for gurgling from the beer fridge. Vince took out a shot glass and poured himself a Jack Daniels, keeping his eyes on Joe as he drank—saying nothing. Joe’s cheeks grew hot. He looked up at an old novelty clock hanging over the bar. It featured a muscular little merman figure with a black beard and a teeny trident. The trident ticked off the minutes while his pearlescent fishtail indicated the hour. The merman reminded Joe of someone. Was it that mysterious Gladiator Man he had seen in the harbor earlier that day? No, it actually looked more like that deckhand from the ferry.

“I’ve always loved that old merman clock,” Vince said, having finished a second shot. “Sit closer, lad. I’m not gonna bite your head off.”

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