Maybe is a Loser's word ~ Benny Watts Fanfic

Chapter 6 ~ 1963 ~ A White Queen

Just like every year, I receive a phone call from the organisers of the US open championship, asking me to compete and defend my title of eight years; Obviously I eagerly accept. I remember that Harmon will be there, and this makes me even more excited to go. As it was being held in Vegas once again, I wasn't too nervous. As frankly - it was unlikely that I would lose.

~ one month later ~

I'm in Vegas, and I find myself sitting amongst a group of men, as they obsess over me like a bunch of schoolgirls. They make stupid chess puns which I laugh at....only because I can't be bothered to react in any other way. Although their opinions don't really bother me. I could probably beat them all in a dozen moves, yet they all call themselves grandmasters.

I lay back on the plush blue couch with my legs up on the wooden coffee table; feet encircled with spirits and water glasses, I'm surrounded by strangers. I notice the stare of someone with copper red hair burning into me. Its Beth Harmon. She's older. I do the math in my head, she must be 18 by now at least. I ignore the men talking at me, and I focus on her. She is quite beautiful. Her body has been woven into an hourglass shape underneath the fabric of her dress, her hair has grown longer with time and she styles it neatly and she occasionally brushes back with a dainty hand. She is so stylish. I try my hardest to keep myself from taking another glimpse at her engaging face. "Um hello??" I hear a man's voice and it interrupts my daydream. "Benny what's wrong with you?!" The man's voice reappears. "Sorry.....what were you saying?" I reply hastily, trying to sound as normal as possible.

As one of the men continues talking, I notice that Beth is speaking to a tall man with dark hair. She looks extremely happy to see him and gives him a hug. "he looks way too old for her... she's 18! He looks what... 30?!" I think.

I've never really met this girl yet for some reason I'm intrigued by her relationship with this random man. I tear my eyes away from the hugging couple and try to focus on the conversation that I couldn't be bothered to participate in. One of the men noticed that I was staring at her and says "wait isn't that the girl chess prodigy" murmurs fill the air as they all turn to look at her. "I heard she plays like a beast" the man sitting opposite me says, another shakes his head and says snarling "a girl? Girls shouldn't be able to play chess, keep them in the kitchen where they belong!" The men burst out into loud laughter like a group of chimpanzees. The comment boils my blood. I sit up straight and say "she could beat all of you with her eyes closed, she's probably 10 times smarter than all of you put together as well". With that I stand up to leave the stupid group of incels. As I'm walking away I say "I see why so many chess players are virgins now..." I shake my head and wander away from them, before they could even think about replying. I have a sly grin on my face. I'm actually quite impressed by my own wit. In the corner of my eye,I can see them watching me as I leave; mouths ajar.

I hate the way people speak about women in the chess industry. It annoys me so much, they can play just as well as any man, in fact any woman I've played has been close to beating me or has beaten me. I can tell that Beth Harmon is gonna get somewhere in life and I'm happy for her because she really deserves it.

I go up the stairs to my room and throw myself down on the bed placed opposite the window. I lay there in silence for a few minutes.  "Ugh I better take a shower and get ready for the tournament" I think, dragging myself off the bed and to the bathroom. I stand in the humid shower, feeling the steaming water cascade down the back of my neck; almost leaving a red mark, like it had given me a trail of burning kisses down my back, before it ran down the drain. "I can't believe she's 18, was she actually 15 when I first met her? Has it really been that long?" I think to myself. I grab the shampoo bottle off the shelf and squirt it all over my head clumsily; letting the soapy bubbles cascade around me as I wash it out of my hair and watch it swirl into the drain at my feet.