Page 22 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

Vince and Ronnie briefly held their deadpan stare before bursting into laughter. When the laughter subsided, they shook hands, scanning each other’s faces, sniffing each other’s scent, their muscular fingers exploring the skin and veins on the other man’s wrists. Joe might as well have disappeared into the rubber sludge mat.

Vince finally released Ronnie’s hand. “You’re working over at the Flotel, right?”

“Really I’m just killing time there until the Promethean opens,” Ronnie lied. “But I should be head bartender at High Tea by mid-June at the latest.”

Joe was astounded by Ronnie’s blatant dishonesty. Although, it was unlikely he and Vince would still be talking after Ronnie accomplished his pump-and-dump revenge plan—something about which Joe was feeling worse and worse.

“Careful Scotty Black doesn’t make you do anything you’ll regret,” Vince said.

“Trust me.” Ronnie lifted his upper torso over the bar closer to Vince, then said in a husky whisper, “I’m a very big boy, and I never do anything I regret.”

The men were back staring into each other’s eyes. Joe wondered what it would be like to be them at that moment, two muscle studsin their prime, both confident and hungry for each other. He knew it was just a game for Ronnie, and probably for Vince as well, but still, the sight of their mutually rapacious longing highlighted all that was missing in his life—all that he doubted he’d ever have again.

“I’m afraid your wee friend and I have to get back to work,” Vince purred. “I’d ask you to stop by at the end of my shift, but we don’t close until four in the morning.”

“I don’t mind. I rise very, very early.” Ronnie let his torso slide off the bar and turned to leave. Just before he walked out the door, he looked back at Vince (as Joe knew he would) and tossed his chin upward like he was an extra-sexy Humphrey Bogart inCasablanca.

As soon as he was gone, Vince’s smile vanished. “If you think pimping out your hot friend is gonna make me go soft on you, think again. Now start prepping the limes! We’ve only a little over an hour left, so I don’t have time to quiz you. But if I hear you’re messing up the drink orders later tonight, I’m nipping off your fingers with my teeth.”

12.The Canoodlers

“The Disco Witches do not by nature disdain the overlords or their minions. We welcome the allies who give us space to dance, make love, and build our temples. But when the overlords set their weapons and laws against the holy lovers, then we fight and dance for their defeat.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #88

With only twenty minutes left before Asylum Harbor was to open for the season, Joe was on his third run to Mulligan’s grocery to grab something the bar was missing. This time, Vince had sent him back for a quart of heavy cream in case customers started ordering brandy Alexanders or white Russians, two more drinks Joe hadn’t a clue how to make.

As he was half walking, half jogging back to the bar with the cream, a familiar face stopped him in his tracks. It was that deckhand from the ferry, the better-looking one who had laughed at Joe the day of his arrival. Only this time he didn’t have his teenage coworker with him—he was sitting with a cute blonde girl on the steps near the liquor store. The last thing Joe wanted to do was to walk by and subject himself to the deckhand’s homophobic tittering again. He suddenly felt like he was back in junior high and needed to avoid the bullies in the hallways.

For a moment Joe studied the young couple from a distance, recognizing the girl as one of the many Mulligan cousins who worked the cash registers at the grocery store. The two lovebirdswere sitting close together, with their knees touching, her hand taking his hand at one point, massaging it as they talked about something that appeared serious. At one point the deckhand reached up and tenderly moved a lock of the girl’s short blonde hair behind her ear with his hand. Even from this distance Joe could tell they were damned nice-looking hands—strong and probably rough from pulling and tying up the ferry ropes all day. And then there were his forearms and those long, hairy legs …

Ugh! Joe hated when he found straight guys attractive.What a waste of time.

The deckhand and the girl looked so smitten with each other, like leads in one of those sixties beach movies,Beach Blanket BingoorWhere the Boys Are. Where better to fly their horny, heterosexual flag than in one of the only gay-friendly communities on Earth?The hell with them,Joe thought.Get a fucking room!

Joe realized Vince would be tossing a fit if he didn’t get back immediately; he didn’t have time to detour all the way around Ocean Boulevard and back just to avoid passing the deckhand and his date. So he decided to quickly pass by with his head down, hoping the deckhand didn’t notice. But just as he stepped in front of them, the deckhand coughed, causing Joe to look up and find himself staring straight into those insanely blue eyes.They are not just blue. They are the bluest blue I’ve ever seen.

Realizing he had been staring at least two seconds longer than he should, Joe abruptly looked away, acting like it hadn’t happened. The expression on his face must’ve looked ridiculous, since it caused the deckhand and his girlfriend to snort with laughter.

A wave of humiliation crash inside Joe’s stomach. He sped around the corner and up the steps to the bar. When he hit the doorway, Vince was staring switchblades at him. “Where the feck have you been?” Vince snapped. “And why’s your face all lobster red like that?”

13.Cranberry ’n’ Vodka

“Disco Witches dance to save the world, and because the rhythm compels them.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #2

By sevenPMAsylum Harbor was doing steady business. Like Dory had promised, customers were only ordering beers, vodka cranberries, martinis, and the most basic mixed drinks. But just in case he needed to employ Ronnie’s cheating trick, Joe hid theMr. Boston Official Bartender’s Guidein the crack between the beer cooler and the sink, for easy access.

“What’ll it be?” Joe said to the next customer, copying Vince’s cool, causal demeanor.

“A vodka cranberry please, but only a light splash of the juice, if you don’t mind.”

“Gotcha,” Joe said.

The first wave of customers was mostly male and older, wearing Ralph Lauren and smelling of Cartier cologne and cigarettes. But when the merman’s tail hit eightPM, a more varied crowd paraded in, including several younger men and a handful of women. Joe kept hoping the Gladiator Man (or someone who looked like him) might walk through the door, but no dice. And he kept thinking about the annoying deckhand in the harbor, and how stupid he’dfelt staring at him the way he had, and then them laughing at him. It was the same way the deckhand had laughed at Joe that first morning on the ferry.What is that guy’s problem with me?

“What’re you daydreaming about?” Vince asked.

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