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“How did your editor read these hieroglyphics? You got a ghostwriter, Watts?” Beth said through a laugh as she lifted the paper up to her eyes and squinted.
They were squeezed into a small booth at some bar downtown. A drink in front of each of them.
Cokes. Of course.
No alcohol. That was the price of admission for staying on Benny’s shitty air mattress, afterall. It wasn’t a great place to stay but it was Beth’s only place to stay; so she conceded to his boring, sober rules.
But today they were out of the apartment for the first time in days. Beth had remarked earlier that she hadn’t seen the sun in a week, which wasn’t quite accurate though it had been a while. So Benny offered a walk to the bar for a change of scenery. Sure, they were confined to a tiny booth but at least this place was above ground.
The table between them was covered with pages and pages of handwritten notes and game records. Beth could have a break from the chess cave but not the chess.
“Here. Let me see it.” Instead of grabbing the paper from her Benny slid into her side of the booth to study the paper in her hands. Beth tried to pretend she didn’t realize their thighs were touching.
She could feel his breath on her neck. It was making her dizzy. She had to start talking to remember to breathe. “No, on second thought the writing in that book is far too pretentious to be anyone but you.”
He nudged her shoulder with his own, not looking up from the paper. “You still read it, though.”
A devilish smile spread across her lips. “Oh yes. I found it to be a comprehensive stepping stone piece for those looking to go from beginner to amature. Now Luchenko’s book...” She trailed off, waiting for Benny to retaliate her teasing.
He looked at her then. He was smiling but his voice had a touch of a far off tone. “Once you’ve beat four Russians, you won’t even want to play me anymore.”
What was he playing at? She couldn’t tell. So she rolled her eyes. “I have to get through just one Russian first.”
“You will. Then you’ll say ‘Just look at that boring American amature, Benny Watts.’ You’ll get tired of me.”
Now she laughed. Even if there was some truth behind this melodramatic performance, she could tell he was teasing her. “How could I get tired of you when you’re constantly finding new ways to be so utterly annoying? I see you've chosen self pity this time, that’s a new one! Thought that would be below you but see! You’ve surprised me! Well done.”
“Soon I’m never going to beat you again, kid.”
“Kid? Really? You’re such an ass, Watts.” Beth brought her eyes back down to the game report. “I’m not a child.”
“No. You’re not.”
Why did he have to look at me like that? She could see it from her peripheral vision. She tried to concentrate but her brain felt fuzzy.
“Which is ideal really because getting my ass whooped repeatedly by a kid would just be humiliating.”
Beth shot him a glare and made a show of pretending to read the report.
“Oh no. Have I offended you, ma’am ?” She shoved his shoulder then, a laugh on her lips. “Losing to the prodigies sucks. Whereas losing to Beth Harmon is beginning to feel like a rite of passage. Now I’m beginning to feel like all the other sorry chumps you make cry. It’s a privilege.”
“You know one time at a competition I just introduced myself and all the guy said was ‘shit’ not even a hello!”
“See. I feel his pain.” He remarked, pointing a ringed finger at her.
“But Benny, honestly, it doesn’t matter who wins—”
“Who are you and what have you done with Beth Harmon?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. But I just meant between us. It doesn’t matter if I always win because you always make me think, regardless. You never stop trying. Chasing. We have the same obsession. We aren’t people who get tired.”
“Was that a compliment? Did Miss US Champion just pay me a kind word?” The sarcasm bleeding out of every crevice in his speech was intolerable. But he looked slightly flustered behind it.
“Don’t act like you weren’t begging for one. I mean your ego hasn’t been inflated in-” Beth feigned looking at her watch, “Fifteen whole minutes since the hostess flirted with you when we sat down.”
Benny looked at her mock shocked expression through narrowed eyes. “Hmm,” was all he said. But what he was really thinking was She noticed that? and Is she flirting with me right now?
He was going to say that he’d rather lose to her than win against anyone else. Before she mentioned the flirting. That felt too heavy now. Too open. He was starting to feel twitchy. So Benny just said, “Then set your watch for another fifteen, Harmon. I’ll need some more flattery by then. Now, which hieroglyphics am I supposed to be translating for you?”
Benny went through the paper with her. A game record of one of her old matches that he’d written out and annotated. She’d won but her endgame had been “messy as hell” in his opinion, “just all over the damn place.” ( But I still won , was her opinion)
“You got lucky with that endgame.” He said, pushing the paper down and pointing at it. “You had no plan.”
“My mother told me that the moves I made the fastest always got the biggest applause. It’s what I’m good at.”
“That might have worked over here, but no one’s going to be applauding in Moscow when you don’t even make it to an endgame and the KGB are packing your bags by opening day. You have to start forming your endgame earlier, Beth. Much earlier. And your middlegame before you’ve even stepped up to the board. I think you just like winning too much. You can’t get your mind off the prize. Stay present.”
“ I like winning too much? Please. Besides, how much is too much? A single, fleeting moment of joy in my miserable life? It makes me happy.”
“It makes you happy? It makes you money . And money doesn’t make you a Grandmaster, kid.” She gave him an infuriated look.
“Sorry. Money doesn’t make you a Grandmaster, Ma’am .” He made a show of that last word, drawing it out and tipping his hat.
“At least I know how to spend my money.” She had a haughty look in her eyes then. “I don’t use it to dress like a fucking pirate.”
He was left blinking at her. How were her quips so calculated and fast? Just like her chess. “Ouch. Calm down there, matey.”
“Yes, I think a little parrot perched on your shoulder would complete the look nicely. Or perhaps a peg leg!” She said, far too pleased with this image she was painting.
“I think I need to call the waitress over to wipe up my dignity.” He put hand up to call the waitress over but Beth quickly reached over him to swat it down.
“Stop, Benny. Don’t annoy her too.” She said laughing softly.
“My apartment, my handwriting, my clothes. Is there anything about me that doesn’t annoy you?” He stared at her with a challenging expression.
Beth narrowed her eyes at him then, daring him to break eye contact. When he didn’t ( of course he didn’t ) she looked away and tried to fight the color flooding her cheeks. Must her own body betray her like this? It was almost as infuriating as losing to him. Which she was beginning to forget the feeling of.
She looked down at her coke and started playing with the straw. “It hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet. Sorry.” Don’t look at his hair. DON’T look at his hair.
But she looked up. Shit. It was a fraction of a second but he didn’t miss it. I’m such an idiot.
“Ah yes. I remember now.” He had a shit-eating grin on.
She wasn’t going to take this humiliation laying down. Beth Harmon was known for her attacks. This was no exception. “Only because it somehow manages to cover your excruciatingly large head.”
Benny raised his eyebrows, a stupid smile on his face. He was enjoying this.
But he didn’t say anything so she continued. “I’m surprised any of us can fit in the same room with it.” Why do I have to talk so much when I’m nervous?
He took his hat off then, held it over his heart, and tried to put on a pair kicked puppy dog eyes. “Damn, Beth. That one hurt.”
Beth simply rolled her eyes and went back to her straw.
“Let’s see if it’ll fit on your modest head then.” He put the hat on her before she had time to respond. When she let out a huff of annoyance he just continued to adjust it. Using both hands he tipped the hat back so more of her red hair could show.
She pulled away and adjusted it to her liking. “Hm. I think it looks better on me.”
“I think you just like seeing my hair.”
Beth ignored the comment and picked up a spoon from under the hoard of papers. She held it out in front of her like a mirror to see her reflection.
”You can't even see yourself in that, Harmon.” He said through a chuckle.
“What? Do you disagree?” She struck a pose then, giggling. Expecting him to hit her with another well executed come back.
A beat of silence.
He was looking at her. Studying her.
Another beat.
Still staring.
Finally.
“No. I agree.”
Her breath hitched slightly. She wasn’t expecting that.
“You look good. Your hair is longer than mine. It sticks out a bit.” He reached toward her and took a red strand between his fingers. “It’s cute.”
She really wasn’t expecting that.
But as quickly as it happened, he pulled away.
And she remembered to breathe again. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.
He started shuffling the papers on the table then, looking for something. When he found it he looked back up at her. “It suits you.”
So. He liked her hair too. She could work with that.
“Okay, now listen to this middlegame. I think you’ll like it.” And he began reading. But Beth wasn't listening.
Maybe he didn’t set up the no sex rule for me. Maybe he set it up for himself.
She kept the hat on until they got home.