Page 17 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

“Right, right, soda water!” Joe punched himself in his thigh. “There is no way I’m gonna know all these cocktails by tomorrow. How would I pass an organic chemistry class if I can’t even memorize a fucking drink recipe?”

“Easy, Joey Bear. To be honest, if someone orders a Tom Collins at a gay cruise bar, they’re a dick.”

“I can’t fuck this up.” Joe pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can’t lose this job.”

“Look,” Ronnie said, “if you get stuck, just hide theMr. Bostonunder the sink so your boss and the customers don’t see.” He demonstrated. “First, flash a flirty smile and say you ran out of something. Then bend over like you’re looking for it, but give ’em a little show.” He pulled his shorts down enough to expose the tops of his cheeks. “See? While everybody’s fixated on your butt crack, you scan the recipe! No one will be the wiser!”

Joe jokingly covered his eyes and groaned. “No way am I doing that.” He grabbed back theMr. Boston.

“Stop being so negative, Joey!”

“Quiz me some more.”

“Let’s take a breath.” Ronnie lay back on the warm wood of the dock. “So, how’s it going with your weirdo roommates?”

“I like them a lot,” Joe said. “Lenny can be a little crabby, but he’s really a sweetheart. He taught me the difference between a Prince Albert and a freedom ladder and made me this hoagie.” He held up the torpedo-like sandwich that he was halfway through eating. “Although he called it a ‘hero.’ Wanna try?”

“Nah. I’m trying to shred. What about that other one?”

“Howie? He’s really cool, like an eccentric old aunt. You won’t believe how they fixed up that attic room for me. Totally rad.” He chewed the next bite of his hoagie more slowly. “There’s just this one weird thing …” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s stupid. Anyway, I really lucked out.”

Ronnie’s bullshit meter went off. Joe was holding something back. Having been best friends with him for six months, he knew Joe was oblivious to the harsher realities of the gay world. But who the hell moves into the attic of two creepy old strangers he’d met in the harbor? “Okay, spill it,” he said. “Have they ‘accidentally’ walked in on you when you were showering?”

“No,” Joe said. “They aren’t like that. It’s just …” He put down his hoagie. “When they fixed up the attic they purposely hid some of their old photos from me and padlocked this crawlspace and …” He groaned. “I’m being an idiot. Just forget I said anything. Not a big deal. The important thing is, I really want you to like them. Howie knows a ton of interesting stuff.”

“Whatever you say.” Ronnie stomach gurgled with discomfort at the thought of the two strange older men. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt his best friend. “New topic! Tell me more about that hot Irish bar manager of yours? Was he a good kisser?”

“Ugh,” Joe groaned. “Fuck that guy.”

“I mean he sounds like a major ass wipe, that’s for sure.” Ronnie squirmed out of his T-shirt to show off his tanned and swollen torso. “But I saw him wearing a tank top and carrying a case of beer yesterday. Fuckin’ A! That body … woof!”

“Whatever,” Joe said. “I thought you were looking for a rich guy?”

“I am. But I’m up for a little fun in the meantime.”

“You know Vince told me the rich guys who summer out here never date any of the workers. He says they’ll fuck us, but that’s it. Says they think we’re all trash.”

“He said that?” Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “Hot or not, that brainless Irish douche don’t know shit.”

“Well, he’s worked out here for almost ten years, so—”

“Doesn’t mean squat!” Ronnie sat up. “Maybe the A-listers won’t date losers like Vince whose only goal in life is to work on the island forever. You and me are different. This place is just a means to an end to us. One summer and done. I’m gonna be a rich motivational speaker and you’re gonna be a friggin’ doctor!”

“About that,” Joe said. “Please stop telling people I’m going to medical school. Because it’s just not true—”

“I’ve made my mind up!” Ronnie blurted. “Now I have to sleep with him!”

“What? Who?”

“Your boss, Vince.”

“But you just said he’s a brainless douchebag.”

“That’s exactly why I’m going to give him the lay of his life and then watch him beg for more while I ignore him. That’ll show that overgrown leprechaun he can’t go around spreading bullshit about who we can date and treating my little buddy like a cheap piece of kissable meat.”

“Whatever floats your boat.” Joe did his “Ronnie-you’re-ridiculous” head shake. “Can we get back to work? Quiz me again about—”Joe’s face suddenly brightened as he appeared to catch sight of something over Ronnie’s shoulder. “Wait a minute—that’s them!”

Ronnie turned to see two ridiculously dressed older men heading toward Bay Walk, pushing a cleaning caddie. The short one resembled a Neapolitan lawn ornament in chaps, while the tall one wore flowers in his baseball cap and was waving a massive feather duster.

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