Page 87 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

“Perfect!” Howie clapped. “We don’t have much time. We’ll need to do the whole nine yards—our best twirling shoes, hats, a special infusion, everything.”

“Yes!” Lenny cried out. “Finally! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Howie’s eyes glinted in a bellicose twinkle. “My comrades, are you ready to boogie?”

44.The Fifth

“That passionate desire which frightens you the most, which shocks you to your core, that is the one which shall set you free.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #89

As soon as the doors of the Promethean swung open, a rolling disturbance rippled across the club. It didn’t matter that the DJ was blasting Karyn White’s mega-hit “Secret Rendezvous.” Someone or something important had obviously entered the club.

“Is it Madonna?” several club goers muttered.

“It’s Jeff Stryker I bet,” others insisted.

The younger patrons were horribly disappointed when they discovered that, instead of pop divas or porn stars, the ruckus was ignited by a quartet of bizarrely dressed old people. The more senior club goers, however, began whispering or covering their mouths in joyous shock.

There they were, strutting in single file: Dory, Lenny, and Saint D’Norman, wearing outlandish sparkling headgear with black crepe capes, clearly hiding some sort of spangly outfits beneath. Last to enter was Howie. He too was draped in a black robe, while atop his head he wore a three-foot-high, five-foot-wide, massive, cone-shaped white hat, featuring a replica of the Saint dance floor on its fabled opening night (his holiest of costumes)! Emergingfrom the very top of the hat was a miniature spinning star machine that projected the Milky Way onto the walls and ceiling of the Promethean in homage to the Saint’s famous dance-floor planetarium. The base of the hat’s star machine was festooned with bouncy silver wires encrusted with rhinestones and silver star shapes that shimmied with every breath he took. The wide platform brim featured a small army of toy soldiers spray-painted silver and positioned as if they were dancing. There was an added “mezzanine level” around the hat’s middle, where the silver soldiers were coupled in various sexual positions in homage to the Saint’s nightly balcony orgy. Dripping from the edge of the brim were strands of rhinestone stars in varying lengths. If (and when) Howie twirled, the strands would lift and spread, creating a huge shimmering aura. All four Disco Witches wore their coven’s most sacred symbol: a disco-ball cocktail ring the size of a pug’s eye, which spun, reflecting the club’s lights and lasers. To protect their eyes from the impending dazzle and to dissuade others from asking them questions, all wore the darkest of vintage aviator sunglasses.

As the quartet moved to the center of the room, old-timers, eyes dampened, cried out:

“You’re back!”

“We missed you!”

“Can we buy you a drink?”

The four ignored all adulation until they arrived at their spot—middle of the dance floor, ten feet from the mirror.

“Do you feel it?” Lenny shouted over the music.

Indeed, they did. It was an almost nauseating swirl of power igniting itself in every chakra. The fifth had to be nearby.If only they would reveal themselves!Moments later, Howie saw Vince and Elena pushing through the crowd.

“We’ve looked everywhere!” Vince shouted. “We can’t find Joe!”

Howie shook his aching head. (A seventeen-pound hat didn’t help.) Vince gestured to someone else. It was Ronnie walking toward the group. As he took in Howie’s costume, he looked both astonished and appalled. It struck Howie how very vibrant Ronnie’s aura appeared—reds, yellows, blues, even purples—but then again so waseveryone else’s in the club. Howie didn’t even need to remove his sunglasses—just like in the old days. Lenny was right. The fifthhadto be nearby. Howie’s intestinal prescience roiled with a salmagundi of premonitions.Shh!he bid his own gut.Shh! I can’t concentrate!

“Has anyone heard more about when Joe left the party?” Howie shouted.

Elena nodded her head at Ronnie, her eyes demanding he speak. “Don’t be a dick, Ronnie!” she shouted. “Just tell him!”

Ronnie huffed as he moved Howie’s dangling hat crystals and said, “Frankie Fabulous saw Joe doing all sorts of drugs at the Morning Party—which is not like him at all. The last thing Frankie saw was Joe walking alone down the beach toward the Meat Rack. He looked really fucked up. No one has seen him since.”

Howie removed his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes.It has begun—the Great Darkness is making its move.After relaying the news to the others, he noticed the auric flares of furious red blasting from Ronnie’s head. “What else is it, Ronnie?”

“Joey never did drugs before he met you!” he yelled.

“Easy there, Ron,” Vince said, his hand gently pressing on Ronnie’s forearm.

“No one here would’ve given Joe drugs,” Elena added.

Howie gazed deeply into Ronnie’s furious retinas. There was something else, something that caused Ronnie’s guts to twist like pulled taffy whenever Howie was around. Could he not let go of his disdain for Howie, even when Joe was in such danger? Was Howie such a shadow for him? A terrifying reminder of his own impending withering?No,Howie thought,it’s something more, something even deeper.

“Ronnie, listen.” Howie drew back the strands of crystals. “I promise you, we’re on the same side. I don’t need you to like me. But I need us to be allies. Joe is in a very bad place. We need to find him and help him before something bad happens. Trust me on this.”

Ronnie averted his eyes and took a deep breath. Howie noticed the slightest shimmering of blue in Ronnie’s aura—which could mean he was starting to trust, although it could also indicate his need for healing. “All right!” Ronnie surrendered. “I’ll ask if I can start my shift later.”

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