Page 27 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

“Hey! I saw you the other day!” Joe huffed and puffed, a cramp in his side, the soft sand shackling his legs. “I wanted to say hi, but you left before I could.”

Closer, closer. He was just fifteen yards from Gladiator Man when another voice called out from behind him. “Hey, buddy! Yo, buddy! Where you running? You forgot something!”

Joe turned. There, shouting from the top of the steps, was that blue-eyed deckhand again—the one with the girlfriend in the harbor. He started down the steps and across the sand toward Joe. He appeared to be soaking wet under his Pines Ferry sweatshirt.

“What do you want?” Joe asked quietly, annoyed, hoping the Gladiator Man wouldn’t hear.

“I was just letting you know you forgot yourCharlie’s Angelslunchbox on the steps,” the deckhand teased with a friendlier than expected smile as he dangled the campy lunchbox. His low voice bore the scars of too much drinking and yelling at televised sporting events. “You wouldn’t want to lose something as nice as this.”

What?Joe wondered.He interrupted me to laugh at me again?Couldn’t this straight idiot see Joe was in the middle of something important? And who went swimming in the ocean alone at five in the morning?

“I left it there on purpose,” Joe said, not adding that he hadn’t wanted the Gladiator Man to see him with the kitschy lunchbox.“So, if you wouldn’t mind putting it back on your way home, okay? Thanks!” He turned back toward the Gladiator Man, who had begun walking away. Did he think Joe and the deckhand were together? “Hey!” Joe shouted. “Wait a minute!”

“Which is it?” the deckhand said from behind him, sounding irritated now. “You want me to stay or go?”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Joe snapped.

“Right,” the deckhand said, sounding a little confused. “So what are you doing on the beach this time of the morning anyway? Taking a run?”

“Look,” Joe said sharply, “I can’t talk right now.” He then readied himself again for the chase. But when he looked for the Gladiator Man, he was gone. Joe fell to his knees and punched the sand. “Fuck!”

The deckhand stepped back. “Jesus. What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”

“Yes … no. It’s just …” Joe groaned in frustration and brushed himself off. “I was trying to catch up to someone. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you before.”

“Ah, no worries.” The deckhand pulled a mini-bottle of Johnny Walker from his board shorts, took a swig, and then offered it to Joe.

“No thanks.” Looking closely, Joe noticed the deckhand’s eyes again. Even while bloodshot and glassy, they were an even more stunning blue than before. For some reason, near the ocean and in the morning light, his eyes appeared almost cobalt blue—or was that ultramarine?—and framed by long black eyelashes flecked with wet salt and sand— much like the rest of him. “You know it’s not safe to go swimming drunk,” Joe said. “Especially when no one’s around to save you if something happens.”

“I didn’t swim drunk,” the deckhand said, taking another sip. “I swamhungover.”

“You woke up hungover and decided it was a good time to swim?”

“Never went to bed. I took a swim to wake up. I live over in Sayville. A passenger gave the crew a couple of bottles of Jose Cuervo yesterday, so we had a little party after work on the beach. I guess my boys ditched me when I fell asleep. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They sound like real class acts,” Joe muttered.

“Don’t be so judgy.” The deckhand yawned. “I have to work the first boat out, which means I’ll need to hitch a water taxi back to Sayville. Might need another dip first. By the way, you said you were trying to catch up to someone? Who?”

“Who do you think?” Joe said, annoyed. “That big muscular dude? The one you scared away?”

“Muscular dude?” The deckhand smiled and gestured to the completely empty beach. “Nobody on this beach but us and the gulls. You sure I’m the only one who’s been drinking?”

“For Chrissake,” Joe said. “How hungover are you? You didn’t see that huge guy with a beard literally standing just over there?” He pointed to the spot where he’d last seen the Gladiator Man.

“Chill out, shortstop. Don’t get your skirts all bunched up.”

The deckhand’s smirk and gay-baiting comment were the last straw. Joe mustered his most threatening glare (which wasn’t very threatening) and wondered if he’d remember any of his wrestling moves from middle school. “You always act like such an ass?”

“Just joking with ya.” The deckhand made the peace sign. “It’s weird that I’d miss seeing another human being that close by, but then again I wasn’t really focused over there.” His eyes momentarily latched onto Joe, but then he quickly looked away like he was embarrassed. “Or maybe I am still a little drunk. I better get back in the ocean and make myself right!” He yanked off his sweatshirt. His lean torso was more muscular than Joe had imagined, with a perfect little patch of hair at the top, and a small treasure trail between his belly button and board shorts. When he turned and jogged toward the water, Joe noticed he had an almost comical gait. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with his legs, though—still long and hairy, and too sexy for a straight guy. Then Joe noticed something odd. The deckhand had huge, paddle-like feet—with toes ever so slightly webbed. Thus, the reason for the funny jog. Any awkwardness disappeared, though, as soon as he dove into the waves. His arms, like twin porpoises, sliced through the water while his legs kicked fountains. When he was twenty-five feet from the shore, he dove under and disappeared. Ten seconds passed, twenty, thirty, sixty. At ninety seconds, Joe walked to the water’sedge, and recounted the CPR class he had been forced to take at his old job.Tilt the head, make sure nothing is in the passageway, then press your lips …

At that very moment, the deckhand, like a deranged seal, exploded from the water, enrobed in a spray of iridescent water droplets.He was gasping and laughing.

That guy’s nuts,Joe thought, before looking back at the stretch of beach where he had last seen the Gladiator Man. Sand, bushes, trees, and nothing else.

16.Breakfast Revelations

“A Disco Witch must be on high alert at all times—even in their dreams.”

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