Page 43 of Reaching Roland

I snorted. “As if. It just so happens that when you work downtown amongst competent businesswomen, they have no problem making what they want very clear.”

Kenny's eyes lit up with amusement. “Those hussies.”

He cracked me up, which was one of the many reasons why I enjoyed spending time with him so much. Kenny just let it all hang out. He didn't choose his words carefully, but gave me access to the inner workings of his mind. It was so refreshing. He kind of reminded me of Indie like that, and I wondered if that was part of what appealed to Cameron about his boyfriend. Like me, my son’s temperament was calm and steady, and he neededsomeone full of life and energy to draw him out and away from being Mr. Responsible.

Since he was smiling now, I wanted to keep him relaxed, so I decided to tease him. “You never asked me why I let the attendant get away with calling you a Benny. You were indignant about it but never asked.”

His mouth fell open, then he screwed his face up into a glare that was about as fierce as a newborn kitten. “That's right, I forgot.”

I snickered. “It was probably all that sugar you consumed.”

He stuck out his tongue, and I saw a flash of yellow. “What's in your mouth?”

He pushed a small, round, yellow candy halfway out and bit it between his front teeth, then sucked it back in. “A butterscotch.”

I should’ve known. “Ah. I thought it was unusual for you not to have a lollipop with you.”

He dipped his head sheepishly. “It didn't seem appropriate to have a stick poking out of my mouth for our date.”

“Shortcake, I understand where you're coming from.” This restaurant really was on the nicer side, but he’d been nervous—probably still was—and he needed security, which in his case seemed to be something to suck on. “I promise you, your lollipops don’t bother me at all.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding so hopeful that I wanted to run out to the nearest convenience store and buy him aBlow Popright now. “It doesn’t embarrass you to be seen with a grown-ass man sucking on a child's candy?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

He smiled brilliantly, and the last of the tension left his shoulders. The waiter approached our table with water, and as soon as we placed our orders, Kenny pointed at me. “Okay, so now that you brought it up, you owe me an explanation. Why didn't you think the attendant calling me a Benny was a big deal? It was mean, Daddy.”

“What do you think a Benny is?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He let out a long-suffering sigh like I was being too ridiculous. “It’s one of those loud and obnoxious tourists who comes down to the shore from Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, and New York. A Benny.” He held up a finger. “And as a kid who grew up at the shore, I can promise you, those people are as annoying as fuck.”

I smirked. “You people from down the shore are always so arrogant and possessive.”

He snorted. “As we should be. You Bennies are the ones who invade our home all summer long, clogging up the streets with traffic and treating the locals like crap.”

Chuckling, I said, “Technically, you’ve lived in Takoda almost half your life now. I think that makes you?—”

His gasp cut me off. “Shut your mouth, sir. Daddy, that’s just rude.”

I smiled. “No, it’s not. Let me give you a little history lesson. That whole Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, and New York thing came about because there was supposedly one train line that took tourists down to the shore from New York, and the ticket was stamped B period, E period, N period, N period, Y period. However, that theory was debunked. No such straight route ever existed.”

He scrunched his nose. “I don’t know about that. I think the initials are more just a generalized way of saying all the people who flood down from up north.”

Having fun with this, I said, “And that leads to other theories, like how the hundred-dollar bill—aka, the Benjamin Franklin—were dropped by tourists, Bennies for short, during the summer season.”

Kenny grinned. “Really?”

“Yep.” I took a sip of my water. “I have another one.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“In the seventies, Point Pleasant Beach hosted the Benihana Offshore Grand Prix. They referred to the spectators who came from up north for it as Bennies. While the event has been renamed over the years, and the course itself has gotten shorter, the name Benny stuck for the tourists.” He opened his mouth, and I held up a finger. “Or how about this one? Benny actually stands for beneficial, which has to do with how healthy the ocean and salt air is for people with asthma or breathing problems.”

Kenny whipped out his phone, gaze bouncing from me to his screen as he texted someone. “Sorry, Daddy. I’m telling my Dad toGoogleBenny. This should start a great conversation in the barbershop.” He snickered. “I can just picture all the old timers who hang out there throughout the day coming to blows arguing over the validity of this.”

“Are you being a shit stirrer, shortcake?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “You know it, Daddy. It’s my job as my father’s youngest child and only son to provide interesting tidbits for them to debate.”

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