Chapter 14
14.
One Night Only
“Romantic love is the fourth holy sacrament. Disco Witches always choose passion over caution—sometimes to our detriment. Luckily, broken hearts can be as powerful as magic wands.”
—Disco Witch Manifesto #11
Ronnie and Vince were walking west on Bay Walk. Moonlight through trees cast lace carpets at their feet. In less than three hours it would be another day of scrubbing toilets and making beds for Ronnie, but before that … “So where’s your place again?”
“It’s all the way on Beach Hill at the dead end,” Vince said. “I warn you, it’s just a rinky-dink pool house I’m renting. Price is right, though.”
“All we need is a place to lie down.” Ronnie’s cock strained against his zipper. “Hold a sec.” He quickly shoved his hand down his 501s to rearrange himself.
“The old knob needs to breathe, eh?” Vince chuckled. “It’s a wonder you don’t get gangrene with as snug as those jeans are. Wouldn’t want anything to fall off.”
“I’m cool.” Ronnie smiled, his junk now comfortably lying left.
“C’mere.” Vince pushed Ronnie against a wooden trash shed and kissed him.
It was not the kind of violent kiss Joe had reported. Vince kissed Ronnie with the right amount of push and pull by the lips and tongue, a good balance of wet and dry, hard and soft, with the perfect number of rest stops and a hungry tension, like a roller coaster climbing to a drop. Vince somehow understood exactly what Ronnie wanted, as if there was a set of instructions written in Braille right on the surface of his lips. But what was that thing Ronnie felt in the base of his stomach? Butterflies?
No, no, no, no, no! Get control of yourself. This is supposed to be a revenge fuck.
“Let’s just do it here,” Ronnie growled, grabbing Vince’s crotch as if they were two strangers in a sex club.
Vince jumped back and laughed. “You always come on so hard, lad?”
“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, was fucking adorable). 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 going inside anyone, 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—clich é it 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 bump up 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.”
Ronnie laughed nervously. “Well, I was kind of weird as a kid …”
Vince smiled. “And …?”
“Okay, okay. Well, it’s like this—I thought I could fly.”
“Aw, that’s cute for sure,” Vince said. “Kids have terrific imaginations.”
“This was more than that.” Ronnie’s brow dipped. “It felt completely real, like you and me standing here right now. Every night for almost a year I dreamed that I could wiggle my fingers like this and I could float off my bed, out the window and all over Philly and parts of New Jersey. Sometimes I’d wake up on the floor in the morning, with bruises from falling off my bed. My mom would say my dreams were one of the things that made me special. But my father would call me ‘Unlucky Lindy’ or ‘Butterfly Boy,’ and he worried I might have some mental issues since I insisted it was really happening. I finally got sent to the school shrink, and eventually the dreams stopped.”
Without warning, Vince pulled Ronnie into a tight hug. That’s a strange reaction, Ronnie thought. But it was also perfect. Too perfect. It was the kind of hug he would have loved to have gotten from the rich older lover he intended to meet that summer—but not from Vince. Worse was that look in Vince’s eyes, as well as those damn butterflies fluttering around Ronnie’s stomach again. Where was a can of Raid when you needed one?
“Hey, Vince, I need to be honest with you about something, okay?”
“Sure,” Vince said.
“I like you a lot … but I’m not interested in dating you.”
And there it was, just like Ronnie thought, that look of disappointment in Vince’s eyes.
“Is that so?” Vince released Ronnie from his arms. “And who says I was interested in dating you ?”
“I didn’t mean that.” His voice wavered. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
“Well, isn’t that simply precious of you.” The Irish skinhead scowl was back. “Pretty feckin’ arrogant to assume I’d be interested in anything more than a shag with the likes of you.”
“No it’s just …” Desperation tore through Ronnie’s voice. “I wanted to explain—”
“I’m only codding ya, boyo.” Vince’s sexy smile returned. “We are definitely on the same page. Haven’t the slightest interest in dating anyone at this point, especially not some flyby summer worker—no matter how shiny a penny he may be.”
“Great. Then we understand each other.” Ronnie wanted to feel relieved, but he didn’t. He needed to be more clear—for himself. “So here’s the deal—tonight is gonna be a one-night stand, okay? But the good kind. What I mean is, we’ll make it count. One great night of sex—every dirty fantasy we have. Then we’ll say goodbye forever. No mess, no stress. Okay?”
Without responding, Vince looked off down Bay Walk. It was unclear to Ronnie whether he would agree or bolt … until Vince pulled him in close, squeezed one hand down the back of Ronnie’s jeans and clutched the meaty globe of his ass.
“Okay then, lad,” he said. “But if it’s only for tonight, this is mine.” His finger hit the bull’s-eye between Ronnie’s cheeks, causing him to gasp in both shock and pleasure. When Ronnie reached around for randy reciprocity, Vince grabbed his wrists and flipped him into a bent-over hold. “Your muscles might be bigger, lad, but mine actually work. Do we have a deal?” He kissed Ronnie’s neck.
“Yeah,” Ronnie said, way too turned on to remember his initial pump-and-dump plan. Would it be so bad to let the butterflies flutter around his ribcage for one lousy night? By morning they’d all have flown away. It was Fire Island, after all. “We definitely have a deal.”