Barry Benson Bee Novels & Stories

' Louis barked. 'I thought you would grow past living in denial. You're upset because you weren't here to see if for once he would approve of what you're doing here. It's hard to watch you hate someone so much and yet beg for his approval. You really need to get over it.' Bee said 'What are you saying? I'm not nine anymore, Barbara. I defied my father and didn't continue as a lawyer and became a CEO What do I still need his approval for?'

These were students of Sol County who had dreams of contributing to the county, enjoyed agricultural farming, and sought to learn from the experts in Mount Sol Ecological Farmstead. “It’s getting late and the sun is getting really hot, sir. Why don’t you go back to the office and leave the rest to us?” a young woman with tanned skin said while wiping her sweat. The man raised his head and took a glance at the blazing sun as he said, “It’s still early. You should focus on recording the data. We’ll retreat to the office in half an hour when the sun gets hotter.” “Yes, sir,” the youngsters answered. The man fell silent, giving his full attention to observing the growth of the herbs. This man wa

“I don't at all understand Mr. Klein’s behavior tonight.” “I need to know more about his past social behaviors and reputation,” I said. I was lucky Benson was utterly devoted to me. He had been my butler/valet for thirty-five years. And we were also friends. He never failed me and wouldn’t now. “I’ll begin gathering the information immediately,” Benson said. “But I must ask you something, and please don’t be offended, Mr. Wilson.” “You can ask me anything,” I grumbled. “But you know you needn’t call me Mr. Wilson or Sir when we are alone.”

He shook his head, “no. That is behind me. I’m here. I’m invested in getting to know you.” I reach up and rub his back. Wow. So many muscles that I never knew existed. I never thought I could be as turned on just touching a man’s covered back. I sat up next to him, “what did you do in the military?” Benson took a drink of his whiskey and glanced over at me, “I was a gunman.” “Isn’t everyone in the military a gunman?” I asked him. He glanced over at me and back into his glass, “no not quite like me. I was a sniper.”

Benson whispered as he moved closer to Scott who remained still like a statue. "Your silence means that you know the master planner behind it, don't you? You're so hard hearted for a person who just lost his sister. You know what, Scott?" Benson said as he started straightening Scott's suit with his hand. "I think you're from the devil. When your family member dies,you don't feel any remorse but when another person dies,you cry a lot. Like you cried when Kylie's father died because of you, remember?" Benson said and laughed evilly.

The pressure she put on my plate was hard enough, and this vague answer to our problem wasn't helping. I wanted out of this. I never asked to be a direct descendant. Screw you, Sephrina. Yeah, screw you to hell. (Bryson's POV) I was standing near the railing of our upper veranda to stare at the moon. From the slump of my shoulders, usually held so proud, I was bleeding inside as I missed her. I missed Reagan. "Penny for your thoughts, son?" I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. "Hey, dad," I greeted with a sigh.

Clyde Dante "Mr. Dante, do you want some?" Sean asked. Sean here asked me if I want salad and a tuna mayonnaise rice ball? He made it for Beverly and Beverly ate it with a big smile from her face because she freaking loves tuna. "No." I answered. "Why bother asking him? I thought you're making this all for me?" Beverly asked in a bitchy tone. "Of course." Sean asked and then he excused himself to go eat lunch.

But Benson talked his way out of that one as he hadn’t been gone for more than 24 hours. At that point, Principal Barbour bought us some lunch. The way Benson ate, I think he hadn’t eaten in a while. I gave him half of my sandwich, guessing he would benefit from it more than me. “Miss. Kingsley, can I ask the name of your aunt’s trainer? She is in excellent physical shape and I could do with a bit of help to lose a few pounds.” Principal Barbour says while patting his bloated stomach.

And then—Benson. He was leaning casually against a pillar, whiskey glass in hand, his face sharpened into a smirk the moment he spotted us. "Well, well," Benson drawled, his voice oozing sugar-coated venom. "If it isn't the man of the hour. Aaron Warner. You clean up nicely. Almost didn't recognize you without your usual… corporate armor." Aaron's jaw tightened, but his smile didn't falter. "Benson." "And you are." Benson's gaze swung to me, lingering too long. "Ah, the husband. You're adorable."

Every bar stool was occupied. “Hey, Wendell, two beers in the bottle,” Beverly said as she made the number two with her fingers. “You got it,” the bartender said. “Bev, who dis?” a man on a stool asked. “That’s Bruce. He’s my friend,” Beverly answered. “Damn, man, I can see the muscles through your shirt. What are you? Some sort of body builder or somethin’?” “No. I’m in real estate.” “Oh, like a realtor?”