Page 25 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

“No,” Ronnie stammered. “I’m just horned up.” It was the lamest thing he could have said, and he knew it. Why was he so nervous? Okay, Vince was hot—big deal. He was also an asshole and not much different from any Saturday night fuck Ronnie could score back in Philly. Okay, most Philly guys weren’t as hot as Vince. But they also weren’t as arrogant. And they sure didn’t have an accent like some shamrock-mouthed mafioso (which, he had to admit, wasfuckingadorable). But when Ronnie thought about his well-planned ladder to power and success, Vince was barely a rung up from, well, Ronnie himself. Vince had spent his whole life working in bars and now managed the worst bar in Fire Island Pines. He had no future. None. That was why this was gonna be just one fuck and done, and then Ronnie could get back to his plan to find Mr. Right. “Sorry I came on so strong.” Ronnie slid up to Vince and caressed his neck. “I just really want to be inside you.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Are you feckin’ serious, lad?”

“I don’t understand …” Ronnie’s voice leaped an octave.

“Just cut it with all that fake sexy-talk shite. And another thing, you’re making some grave assumptions. If anyone is goinginsideanyone, it’s me going into you. And before any of that squishy stuff happens, I wanna know your game.”

Game?Ronnie thought.My game? Why is this guy trying to make a hookup so complicated? And why does he have to be such a goddamned good kisser? Focus! Eyes on the prize, Ron, eyes on the prize!

“I don’t have any game.” Ronnie shrugged. “I’m a pretty simple guy.”

“Simple guy, are ya?” Vince mocked. “We’ll see about that. But here’s the thing—I’m too old for shagging strangers, so tell me why I should want to fuck you.”

“Um …” Ronnie hesitated. “Well … I mean, I’m pretty hot?”

Vince yawned. “If that’s all ya got, I might as well just shove my mickey in a melon and get some good sleep. Surely there’s something more complex about ya. Your wee friend Joe says you grew up in Philly?”

Ugh,Ronnie thought. Joe blabbered too much. How was he to play the cold, calculated sex god if Joe had already humanized him?

“Yeah,” Ronnie said. “Northeast Philly.”

“You were the youngest I take it?”

Ronnie looked at him. “How did you know that?”

“I’m a bartender. It’s not hard to recognize a baby brother when I see one.”

“Yeah?” Ronnie raised a brow. “What else does your bartender experience tell you about me?”

Vince stopped and scanned Ronnie’s face. “Well, besides being needy and constantly craving validation, I’d say you had a bit of a rough time at home. Is that it?”

Ronnie suddenly felt as if he were standing there on the walkway completely naked—and not in a good way. “Did Joe say something? That little weasel needs to keep his mouth shut.”

“Nobody said anything.” Vince placed his warm hand on Ronnie’s shoulder. “The reason I know the score is, I had a rotten upbringing myself. I recognize the shite mindset. My da was a drunk—clichéit is, but true. Could barely keep his job digging graves in Drogheda.”

“Drug o’ what?” Ronnie asked.

“Drogheda. It’s the town where I grew up. My ma, though, she was pure class. Worked like a terrier to keep us fed. The cancer took her about five years ago now.”

“I’m really sorry.” Ronnie noticed how the moonlight reflected off the wetness in Vince’s eyes and how his body smelled a little sweaty but nice. When Vince started to walk again, Ronnie sped up to catch him. “I get it, though,” he said, letting his shoulder bumpup against Vince’s. “My mom died a few years ago too. Emphysema. I hadn’t seen her in years. She sort of ran out on us.”

“That’s lousy for sure.” Vince slapped a leaf off a lilac bush. “Were you still young when she left?”

“I was ten. She didn’t get along with my dad or older brothers. They were Philly trash, drug dealers and petty criminals. She was different. I still can’t figure out why she ditched me.”

“No idea at all?” There was an ache in Vince’s voice, as if he yearned to figure out a way to help the young boy Ronnie had been.

Ronnie shook his head. “None. Totally didn’t make sense. I was her favorite. When I was little, she’d always tell me how we’d both become movie stars one day. I promised her if that happened, I’d buy her a big mansion down the Jersey shore, and we wouldn’t let my brothers or father visit.” He stopped and turned his face toward a thick rhododendron. Why was he telling him this?Rule number one for a good anonymous hookup: don’t ruin it with talking too much.But still he continued. “Then one day I got home from school, and I was all excited to show her this macaroni mosaic I made in art class, and she was gone. I bawled my eyes out. Nobody explained anything to me. I eventually found out she drove off to Hollywood with our Charlie Chips delivery man. She told my dad she’d send for me once she got settled doing hair on movie sets. But she never did.”

“That’s a rotten thing to do to a kid.” Vince slipped his hand into Ronnie’s.

“Yeah. It was.” Ronnie felt disarmed by the warmth of Vince’s fingers. “The worst part was, I got stuck with my dickhead dad. He practically wanted me committed.”

“What do you mean?”

Ronnie shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else.” He stopped walking and pulled Vince’s hand to his nose and sniffed it, trying to steer sexy back into the conversation. “I like the way you smell.”

“Look, lad,” Vince said. “I don’t want to force ya into talking about your private life if it makes ya uncomfortable, but I’m curious why you’re changing the subject.”

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