Page 62 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

“You don’t remember?” Joe scoffed. “You told me that the only people who could love me had to be desperate and dying with AIDS.”

Ronnie squeezed his eyes as tears once again gushed down. “I said that? That is so messed up. It’s also a fucked-up thing to say about people with AIDS. I was pretty drugged up, but that’s not an excuse … I’m so, so sorry. You know I didn’t mean it.” He looked up at Joe through his wet lashes. “I think you’re the best, Joe. You’re handsome, smart, and got the biggest heart inside that furry little Armenian chest. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?”

Joe looked away for a moment and wondered about the depth of his rage toward Ronnie that day at Trey’s. Was he really mad at Ronnie for saying what he had, or was he mad because it was whathe still thought about himself deep down, that he was incapable of being loved by anyone who wasn’t desperate? And then he recalled what he had said to Ronnie, and it made his heart ache. “We both said some pretty shitty things to each other. I’m sorry too.”

“Please can we, you know, maybe try and be friends again?”

Joe looked at the fans of leafy shadows on Ronnie’s wet, coked-out but open face. “Okay, but we’ve got to promise never to hurt each other like that ever again.”

Ronnie crossed his heart. “I swear on the graves of my mother and Dale Carnegie. And if I ever hurt you again, I will apologize a lot faster next time.”

Joe smiled and took Ronnie’s hand. “Also, no more pimping me out.” Then,àla Mae West: “If anyone is gonna pimp me out, it’s gonna be me. Got it, my sexy Chippendales hobo best friend?”

Ronnie stifled another surge of tears—the happy kind this time. “You know something, Joey? Only a few weeks have gone by, but you seem different. More powerful or something.”

“You think?” Joe thought about that. “Lenny and Howie say this island teaches you things. I’m not sure what I’ve learned, but I’m done playing the innocent little Joey. I’m not really innocent. I never have been.”

Ronnie smiled, then suddenly tried blowing something out of his right nostril. “Fucking coke cakes up my nose so bad.” He handed the bag of coke vials and the blue pill to Joe. “Can you ditch this for me? There’s an X left.” He tapped his head with his finger. “But I don’t have any dopamine left upstairs for it to do any good.”

Joe took the bag of drugs as if it held a dead rat inside. “I’ll toss this shit in the bay or something. I think you’ve had enough for the summer.”

“I’ve had enough for a lifetime.” Ronnie again tried to dislodge blockage from his nasal cavities. “Fucks with my positive outlook something awful, not to mention my sinuses.”

“By the way,” Joe said, “any thoughts about what you’re gonna do about Vince?”

Ronnie’s face went sad again, but he simply shrugged. “Nothing to do.”

“He’s been completely miserable ever since you ditched him.”

Ronnie snuffled. “Miserable, huh?”

“Turns out the Irish have thirty different words for asshole, and Vince uses all of them whenever anyone mentions your name. It’s pretty obvious he’s in love with you.”

Ronnie shook his head. “He’s not in love with me.”

“Yeah, he is. Howie says no one hates anyone like that unless they’re in love with them. I think he’s right. You should at least try.”

“It’s too late. I fucked up too bad.” Ronnie’s lower lip began to quiver again.

“Come here.” Joe pulled Ronnie in close again and squeezed. While Ronnie’s waterworks drained themselves out, Joe’s mind flickered with plans of how he might get Ronnie and Vince in a room together at a time when Vince would need to be on his best behavior. “Hey,” he said. “I have this dumb idea—hear me out.”

33.To Catch a Thief

“Life is like the best night of dancing—far too short. Do not waste time complaining about the music or how the drinks are not strong enough or how the pretty boy with red hair did not notice you. If you do, you’ll miss your favorite song, and perhaps a more beautiful boy (with an adorable space between his front teeth), and suddenly the dance will be over without you ever dancing at all.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #69

Joe had just finished walking Ronnie home when he looked over at Fire Island Boulevard, and his stomach clenched. One of the new ACT UP benefit posters he and Elena had put up on the bulletin board was missing. He ran to check the nearest telephone pole. It too was barren. The same with the next three. All that remained were the poster’s torn corners and bits of tape.

“Fuck!” he shouted. “Not again!” Just as he was assuming the worst, something caught his eye, far down the boulevard. It was the culprit, in the very act of tearing down another blue poster. “Hey! Stop it!” Joe sprinted down the boardwalk. “Don’t touch that poster!”

When he was fifty feet away, he recognized the man. At first, he felt sadness and shock, but then a wave of fury crashed over him. “Fergal? What in the hell?” He steadily moved closer, clenching his fists. “You’re the one who’s been helping Scotty Black tear down the posters? How could you?”

Fergal dared to appear aghast at Joe’s condemnation and mumbled a feeble “Look, stop making assumptions.” His phony innocent act made Joe hate him even more. The evidence was right there inhis hand, as well as in an entire bag filled with torn-down posters at his feet.To think I had a crush on that asshole. To think I let him kiss me.Joe lunged for Fergal, shoving him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fergal steadied himself.

“You knew how hard Elena and I worked to put these up again!” Joe screamed. “Don’t you care about the AIDS crisis?”

---