𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭 ♕From Beth the Eyes of Beth Harmon

XXVI - Take 2

Episode 7

Endgame

Part 2

Kentucky, 1967

Take 2

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"Oh it's official now. You're crazy. You're out of your fucking mind." Benny spoke through the phone.

I told him about my situation with Christian Crusade. They wanted me to offer a statement to the public. Some bullshit nonsense about being Christian, which I most certainly am not. Of course it ruffled their feathers. "But we already paid for your last trip to San Francisco! And we paid a great deal more for your upcoming trip to the Soviet Union!" They whined. Too bad for them. I wrote a nice big check and gave all their money back.

"Maybe. Probably. But I did it, and it's too late to undo it." I said, sitting on my stairs while I loosely held the phone to my ear.

"Are the tickets paid for?"

"No. Nothing's paid for. I have 2,000 in my bank account. I would have more, but I've been keeping up with the house. That'll be a thousand more. At least that."

There was a burning question itching in my mind that was the real reason why I called Benny. I knew it was a low-level thing to ask, but I needed the money.

"I was wondering—"

"I don't have it."

The swiftness and bluntness of his response made my heart sink.

"What do you mean? You've got money." I said as I exhaled a puff of smoke.

"I don't have it." He said with more gusto than last time.

"Did you gamble it all away?" I asked rhetorically. Somewhere inside I regretted it, because the tension grew through the phone.

"What difference does it make? Call the Federation or the state department."

"The federation doesn't like me. They think I haven't done as much for chess as I could've."

"Should've gone on Tonight. Phil Donahue."

"Benny come on. I don't want to go to Russia by myself."

I heard a long, frustrated sigh escape Benny's nose.

"...Benny?"

"Are you kidding me? First you don't come back to New York, and then you tell me you'd basically rather be a drunk than be with me. And now you pull this crap? No, you can fucking well go alone." He wasn't yelling, but he might as well have been.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done it. Maybe I shouldn't've gave the money back." I mumbled.

"Maybe? Maybe is a loser's word, Beth." Benny said, exasperated.

"Benny—" I pleaded.

"Don't call me anymore." He said sharply, punctuated by the phone clicking onto the receiver and the dull dial tone ringing into my ears.

♕♛♕♛♕♛

Jolene and I played squash together when we could, during times where I wasn't making pity calls to the Federation or State Department begging for money. I had none, and apparently, neither did they. For days, I would spend hours on the phone, lying on the floor with my feet against the wall while I waited for someone to take me off of hold. No matter what alibi I used, no one could spare me anything. It was such a pathetic waste of time. But at least I didn't spend it drinking.