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  Mike smiled warmly at the parents as he opened the small metal gate. Children stampeded in, thrusting little blue tickets into his hand and racing to find the horse they picked out for themselves while waiting on line.

  “Do I have to buy a ticket too?” asked a young mother holding a two-year-old in her arms.

  “No. Go right ahead.”

  The mother got on the carousel and strapped her daughter in. She looked to Mike, who nodded his assent, and she mounted the horse next to her daughter’s. “Now hold on tight to the poll, honey,” she instructed.

  Blackbeard’s Pier policy was that parents of children aged three or over had to purchase their own tickets to ride, but ol’ Mike never enforced it. Management didn’t care much about it because they knew families came to see ol’ Mike almost as much as the carousel itself. Like the ride, Mike had become a Smuggler’s Bay institution.

  After walking once around to make sure children wore their safety straps and held onto their poles, he came back to his control box and pressed the green button. The horses slowly sprung to life as the carousel began to turn, gradually picking up speed.

  As was custom, waiting parents hung out by Mike, engaging him in small talk as they waved to their children passing by again and again.

  “So, how’ve ya been, Mike?”

  “Good. Can’t complain.”

  “When do ya think this heat wave’s gonna break?’

  Mike wiped his brow at the suggestion. “Supposed to break this weekend. At least that’s what the weatherman said, but what does he know? Nice to have a job where you can be wrong all the time.”

  “Been back to Brooklyn at all?”

  “This past Spring. Went to visit Mary’s grave. Put some flowers on it.”

  Living in Canarsie, ol’ Mike was no stranger to the seaside setting. He had fond memories of fishing there with his buddies over a few beers after work. It was much simpler than Smuggler’s Bay. There weren’t any carny games or prizes or carnival rides, but it was nice.

  “Mike, did you hear about the Ocean’s Gate Motel? Changed ownership.”

  “Yeah, ol’ Bill O’Brien retired, and his kids didn’t want it. So, he sold it to the Fitzpatricks. You know, the ones who own the Sand Dollar Bar on the boardwalk.”

  Many of the elderly population of Smuggler’s Bay shied away from the honkytonk of the boardwalk—the popping balloons, the blaring ’80s rock music, children laughing and screaming, the roar of the Albatross (the big wooden rollercoaster on Blackbeard’s Pier).

  Mike, however, found it all to be quite soothing. Those were the sounds of happy children and families having fun. He didn’t have any children of his own, so he lived vicariously through these families.

  He looked over the shoulder of a mother he was chewing the fat with—from upstate New York, if he remembered correctly—and saw Nancy stomping over to the carousel. She was dressed in her blue Blackbeard’s Pier tee-shirt, granny jeans, and sneakers, her hair pulled tight into a bun. She looked more like an older employee than the owner of Blackbeard’s Pier.

  As she drew close, the parents circling Mike instinctively parted, like a school of small fish clearing the way for an incoming shark.

  “Hi, Nancy.”

  “Take your lunch, Michael. Randall’s coming to relieve you.”

  ‘Randall.’ Mike chortled at that. Everyone called him Randy. Hell, no one called Mike ‘Michael’ except his own mother, God rest her soul.

  “Sure thing, Nancy.”

  “And stop holding court with the parents. I pay you to run the ride, not chit chat.” She began to walk away.

  “Nancy…”

  She turned around, her expression that of barely contained patience. “Yes, Michael…”

  “I still didn’t get my paycheck from last week.”

  “I told you I’d send you a new one. It’ll come in the mail.” She started to walk away again.

  “Would’ve been easier to hand it to me. Then I could pay the bills.”

  Nancy’s lip curled into what was either a vicious sneer or the beginnings of a snarl. “Michael, if you’re unhappy with your employment situation, I’m sure one of the refreshment stands would take you. I hear Parks and Rec is looking for someone to scrub the toilets in the public restrooms.”

  Mike never lost his cool. It was a defining characteristic of his. He just smiled sublimely, which he knew got under Nancy’s skin. “Nancy, maybe you oughta loosen that bun on top of your head.”

  He was at the age where he no longer had to defend himself to anyone. Truthfully, he just didn’t give a shit anymore. He’d seen plenty of nasty individuals like Nancy before.

  “What was that, Michael?”

  “Oh, nothing. Here comes Randy.”

  Randy waved to them as he made his way across the arcade, his shaggy hair wafting in the breeze of the air conditioning.

  “Hey, Mike. Hey, Nancy.”

  “You’re two minutes late in relieving Michael.”

  Randy just shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry?” he managed.

  Nancy viewed them both with what could only be contempt, and she turned heel and stalked off.

  “What a bitch,” said Randy.

  “Her husband was much nicer to work for,” said Mike. “Poor Wally.”

  “What happened?” asked Randy. “Did she eat him alive?”

  Mike stared into space for a moment as the carousel slowed, winding the current ride down to a stop. “No, Randy, cancer did that.”

  “Was she like this before her husband died?”

  “No, Randy. She was worse.”

  ***

  Lenny Krueger hid in the supply closet on the second floor of the back building of the Ocean’s Gate Motel, wearing his black cape and black tee-shirt with some superhero frozen in an action pose on the front.

  He didn’t hear Layla come in, because he had his headphones strapped to his head blasting some superhero movie score.

  Layla smiled and shook her head. His back turned, acting out some superheroic monologue, she gently tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he whipped around with his hands up in surrender.

  Layla reached out and snatched the tiny MP3 player out of his hand, disconnecting it from the headphones. “Lenny, you know you’re not supposed to be in here.”

  Lenny shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, Layla.”

  Lenny was hard to understand, but Layla was used to his garbled speech. “If your mom catches you in here, she’s gonna be pretty upset.”

  “Please, don’t tell her, Layla.”

  Layla’s stern expression melted away. “I won’t, Lenny. This time.”

  He extended his hand, she took it, and he shook her hand vigorously. “You are my special friend.”

  “What were you doing in here anyway?”

  “I was fighting the evil Dr. Mayhem. He wants to destroy Supermetro City with his cosmic ray.”

  Layla smirked. “Who are you today? Magma Man?”

  “Nope.” Lenny put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, striking a heroic pose. “Nope. Captain Sonic.”

  “Well, Captain Sonic, I need to get in here to refill my cleaning cart. We’ve got a whole bunch of checkouts this morning. Why don’t you see if your mom needs you for anything.”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “Okay, Layla.”

  She handed him back the MP3 player. “Is this the one Billy Blake gave you?”

  “Yes. He’s my special friend.”

  Lenny referred to a great many folks as his ‘special friend,’ but in the case of Billy Blake, it was a dubious notion.

  “You watch it around Billy. He’s a rough character.”

  Lenny shook his head defensively. “No. My friend Billy is a nice person.”

  “There are many who would disagree with you, Lenny. I’m glad he’s nice to you. Just be careful.”

  Lenny ignored the remark, reconnected the MP3 to his headphones, and whisked out of the large walk-in supply closet, his plastic cape billowing beh
ind him.

  Lenny imagined himself flying over the parking lot as he tore through it, dodging cars and guests loading and unloading their cars. He splashed through a puddle and scattered a small throng of sea gulls as he dashed past the heated swimming pool, a stray cat eying him suspiciously from behind a large waste receptacle.

  Lenny opened the side door to the motel diner behind the front office, waved to the pretty young college girls waiting tables for dinner, and slipped into the front office.

  His mother, Alice Krueger (Fitzpatrick was her maiden name), was checking in a guest. “Hello, Lenny,” she said as she was handing a pink receipt over the counter.

  Lenny slipped the headphones off his ears and down around his neck. He stiffened and saluted. “Captain Sonic reporting for duty.”

  The guest smiled. “Hey, Lenny.”

  “Hi, Mr. Mackabee,” said Lenny. “How are you and your family?”

  “Very well. Making the most of what’s left of the summer.”

  Alice smiled. “Already seeing those back-to-school commercials on the TV.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Mr. Mackabee. “The kids hate it.” He took the room key from Alice. “Well, see ya later, Lenny.”

  Lenny saluted Mr. Mackabee. “Okie dokie.”

  Alice smiled to herself. She remembered the days when the sight of a young Down Syndrome child in the front office garnered uncomfortable looks from guests, even looks of disgust.

  But, most of her guests became regulars over the years, and they got to know Lenny, see him grow up. Now, most never even batted an eyelash. In fact, he had become something like The Mayor, not just on the grounds of Ocean’s Gate, but in the greater town of Smuggler’s Bay. All ten or so blocks of it.

  “Lenny, come here. There’s something very important I need to tell you.”

  That was a cue. His expression became grave as it always did when his mother told him she had something very important to tell him. He turned off his MP3 and stood in front of the counter, waiting expectantly.

  “Lenny, you’re going to meet somebody new tomorrow. A new friend.”

  Lenny smiled at this. He always liked meeting new friends.

  “Remember Dr. Jeff?”

  “Yes. He moved.”

  “That’s right, Lenny. So now there’s going to be a new friend who you’re going to meet with every week. Her name is Dr. Tara.”

  “Dr. Tara,” Lenny repeated.

  “That’s right. She’s new to Smuggler’s Bay. She just moved here a couple of days ago. It’s your job to show her around. Take her to the boardwalk. You are going to take her out for pizza. How does that sound?”

  Lenny stood straight and puffed out his chest. “It would be my honor.”

  “Dr. Jeff said she’s really nice. He thinks she’ll be a good friend for you, like he was.”

  This was good enough for Lenny. He adored Dr. Jeff. If Dr. Jeff liked Dr. Tara, then he liked Dr. Tara. Plain and simple.

  Alice was also encouraged by Dr. Jeff’s strong recommendation of Tara Bigelow. She, too, took his word as gospel. He had worked with Lenny since the boy was four years old. He had taught Lenny how to speak up for himself, trained him in proper hygiene, and helped Lenny to never be ashamed of being Down Syndrome. He taught him to keep his chin up, look others in the eye, and be friendly and helpful.

  She was forever indebted to this great man, and she was heartbroken and distressed when she heard he was retiring to Florida. However, he didn’t hesitate in naming Tara Bigelow as his successor with Lenny, which offered her some small measure of comfort.

  “Lenny, did you empty out all of the garbage bins?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you help Layla load the laundry onto the trucks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you wanna hit the boardwalk?”

  “Yes.”

  Alice reached into the register and pulled out a twenty. “Here you go. Remember, pizza, pasta, or salad.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mom.”

  “Be back by seven o’clock. No later.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  Lenny saluted one last time and left the front office.

  There was a time when Alice would’ve never let Lenny go off on his own. But Dr. Jeff wanted Lenny to be as independent as possible. Little by little, he trained Lenny to look both ways before crossing the street, to be aware of his surroundings, and how to responsibly use money. Little by little, he also trained Alice to let go, albeit reluctantly.

  It helped that Smuggler’s Bay was a little town with light street traffic. In fact, it was common practice for motorists to stop and allow pedestrians to cross. The genius of Dr. Jeff’s plan to train Lenny to make his own transactions on the boardwalk was that the more he bought things, the more the shop owners and employees got to know him. It wasn’t long before Lenny knew just about everyone. Even if Lenny made an error in paying for things, the shop owners and employees always corrected the situation.

  Even Chief Holbrook and his officers kept a special eye out for Lenny. Lenny adored Chief Holbrook and his son. He also adored Officer Joann, but in the way that a young man adored pretty, young women. Officer Joann was well aware of Lenny’s crush, but she managed it gracefully, maintaining appropriate boundaries while still entertaining a friendship.

  Alice was thankful for so many things. She was thankful for Dr. Jenko for operating on Lenny’s heart back in the days when surgeons wouldn’t touch a patient with Downs for fear of ruining their pristine stats. She was thankful for Dr. Jeff for helping her raise Lenny to be the wonderful young man that he was today. She was thankful to the residents and business owners of Smuggler’s Bay for looking out for him.

  ***

  Dharma Ross was arranging the fake designer sunglasses, leaving one of each out on top of its box for customers to see.

  She wiped the sweat off her brow as she arranged the display, not because it was grueling work, but because it felt as if her parents’ Sunglass Hut was on the surface of the sun.

  However, her mind was elsewhere at the moment, mostly on Vinnie Cantone. During the school year she did her best to get him to notice her, but the kid was shy or something.

  He didn’t look like the shy type. He was a little on the short side, but good looking. She liked his chiseled chin and his broad shoulders. He looked like he worked out, but he wasn’t one of those juicing gorillas she saw throwing weights around at the gym.

  “How much are these?” asked a customer, holding up a pair of phony designer shades.

  “Twenty.”

  She was sure he was the type of guy who could’ve had any of the girls at school, yet he didn’t seem to make any real moves. There were even a few occasions where her friends met up with his on the boardwalk, and they all hung out together, but he never spoke to her once. There were only a couple of furtive glances, which were the only things that gave her hope.

  “And how about these?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  She even made sure she frequented his father’s pizzeria, Marco’s Pizza, where he worked, almost daily. Each time she did her best to flirt with him, and each time he barely acknowledged her efforts.

  “Why are the these more expensive than the those?”

  Because they’re not real, you idiot.

  “My mom makes the prices,” Dharma explained, shrugging casually. Dharma’s mother shot her a sharp glance over the register that was surrounded by a cheap tiki display. The girl put the glasses down, milled around for a few more minutes, and left the hut.

  Dharma sighed and looked down at her watch. It had slid to the other side of her wrist, lubricated by a mix of sweat and suntan lotion. Almost noon.

  “Mom, I’m going to grab some lunch.”

  “Let me guess, Marco’s,” said her mother, smirking.

  Dharma ignored the comment. She grabbed a pair of the display fake Ray Bans and put them on. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “You know, if that boy hasn’t noticed you yet, m
aybe he never will.”

  “I haven’t tried this pair yet. I think this pair will do it this time.”

  It was an inside joke between Dharma and her mother. Every time she would go to Marco’s for lunch, she’d wear a different brand of phony sunglasses.

  “He seems like a nice boy and all, honey, but maybe he just doesn’t like girls. I’ve never seen him with any.”

  Dharma pushed the sunglasses on the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and blew her mother a kiss. “Have faith, Mom.”

  She looked into one of the little mirrors for the customers and made a pouty face, and her mother chortled. Dharma flipped her hair around a bit, checked her teeth, and decided she was ready.

  “Into the breach. Wish me luck.”

  Chapter 3

  Mike waved goodbye to the children and their waiting parents, left the marginal comfort of the overworked air conditioning, and entered the hot soup outside. He walked over to Marco’s, his favorite pizza joint on the boardwalk.

  Marco’s son, Vinnie Cantone, was rolling out dough.

  “Hey, Vinnie.”

  Vinnie looked up. “Oh, hey, Mike. How’re you doing?”

  “I’m just dandy, but I don’t know how you toil back there by the ovens in this heat.”

  “Oh, I’m used to it. The usual?”

  “Yep. How’s the Mustang going?”

  Vinnie smiled. “Slowly. I’ve been working all summer to get the parts. Just replaced the spark plugs and the ignition wires. Next is the alternator.”

  “Rebuild?”

  “Hopefully. If I have to replace, it may have to wait a while.”

  “You’re doing the right thing. Always repair or rebuild before you replace. Helps maintain the value. Just like me. The doctor keeps injecting that gel into my knees. It’s working wonders, but one day I’ll have to get them replaced.”

  Vinnie laughed. “You’re one tough dude, Mike. I hope I’m in your shape when I get to your age.”

  “When do you start school?”

  “The end of the month. Then my dad will be here to pick up the slack.”