Page 5 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

Joe thanked them, grabbed his duffel, and began walking toward the Flotel. Behind him, he heard Howie and Lenny bickering. Only bits and pieces reached his ears:

“Shouldn’t you ask Max?”

“Just temporary …”

“Indigo blue! I sense it—”

“Probably the muck in your eye …”

“Joe, wait!” Howie called out.

Turning back, Joe saw Howie hobbling dramatically after him, waving his ring-covered hand, bracelets clacking. Lenny followed, looking peevish but resigned.

“These wet days are torture for my sciatica,” Howie said. “Look, if you need anything, a hot meal, an ear to listen, or even a place to crash should an emergency arise, our house is on the next walk over. Just behind the Promethean.”

Howie pulled out an old mimeographed flier from his fanny pack. In red marker he wrote his address and phone number over the graphic of a bare-chested man wearing a sailor hat.

“44 and¼Picketty Ruff?” Joe smiled as he read it aloud. “Why the one-fourth?”

“Forty-four just wasn’t enough,” Howie said with a wink. “Don’t hesitate to reach out for help should you need it.”

“Thanks,” Joe said, folding the card up into a small stiff triangle and stuffing it into his back pocket. “That’s super nice of you, but the Promethean provides room and board, so I’m all set.”

“Wonderful,” Howie said. “But don’t be surprised if things work out a little differently than you planned. Fire Island is like that. Expect the unexpected—”

“And one or two STDs.” Lenny snorted.

“She’s being uncouth again,” Howie said. “Butdouse condoms. And if you run into any problems … like the card says, we’re at 44 and¼Picketty Ruff.” Howie offered his hand. “And welcome to Fire Island.”

3.Hung Out to Dry

“Friends will let you down, even Disco Witch friends, but if you stick around for the next great song, you’ll be glad you did.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #37

Thanks to Howie and Lenny’s directions, it only took Joe two minutes to find Ronnie at the back of the Flotel Motel. When he saw his best friend’s face, Joe knew something was up. But then Ronnie confessed why he had avoided meeting Joe at the ferry, and it was way worse than Joe could have imagined.

“No job or housing?” Joe repeated in shock, shivering in the cold of Ronnie’s beer-cooler-sized room. “I don’t understand. Didn’t your friend Scotty Black say the bartending jobs and housing were definite?”

“Not exactly.” Ronnie was wearing an Eagles tank top, greasy cutoff shorts, and a pair of yellow rubber cleaning gloves. “And he’s not exactly my friend. I guess he meant the jobs werelikea definite—”

“Jesus, Ronnie!” Joe’s stomach clenched anxiously. “What am I going to do?”

“I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Ronnie snapped off his rubber gloves and then made a cross with his finger atop his right pectoral muscle. “Scotty told me he was pretty sure there would definitely be jobs for us.”

“ ‘Pretty sure’ or ‘definitely’?”

“This is just how these gay vacation places work,” Ronnie said. “Workers out here are like gay geese. They spend their summers here and then migrate to Miami or Key West for the winter. Scotty told me that every summer two or three regulars will head to P-town instead or fall in love with someone down at their winter gig; or, sad to say, some have been getting sick and … you know, whatever, they don’t come back. So, Scotty invited a few more workers than he needs. He said he thought it was a near-sure thing.”

“Are you serious?” Joe was livid. “This douche lied to us just in case his bartenders died of AIDS?”

“I guess you could say that’s good news, right? Nobody died. We should be happy.” Ronnie cast his eyes to the floor like a dog that had been caught chewing up a roll of toilet paper. “Okay, I feel like a twenty-four-karat dickbag,” he said. “I shoulda told you it wasn’t definite, but then you might not have come—”

“Exactly,” Joe spat.

Ronnie looked down at the floor. “Okay, I’ll admit it: I just didn’t want to do this alone,” he said in a way that made Joe know it was finally the truth. “I also worried that if we got separated, I’d lose your friendship, and you’re the only best friend and mentee I’ve ever had. I’m really sorry.”

It was pointless for Joe to try and make Ronnie feel any worse—despite it being a clear case of a half-truth. He knew his friend’s intentions had been good. But still …

---