Opus

4. Recon

"Name?"

"Silk." I know, I know. I said I hated that name, and I do, but since I'm putting myself through this shit because of a dead ex, and said ex gave me that name, it seemed fitting at the time of my registration. Silk. Gael Silk. I regret the impulse every damn time that appellation falls from my lips.

Rule 7: At the end of each set (first nine sets only), [(X − 10)/9] of the players are cut, X being the number of players registered at the beginning of the competition. The elimination process is based solely on the lowest scores. In the tenth set and all followings, the lowest-scoring player is eliminated.

The guy at the Registration Desk, some beanpole-thin black guy with a beard twice the width of his head, barely looks up when he hands me an official score card. After three sets, I'm smack-dab in the middle of the list, an omen. I love numbers.

I am particularly fond of the number four. I was born on the fourth. I'm fourth in line for the throne (thus far enough not to sit in it. Ever). I have had four lovers. I've tattooed a 4 under my foot. Well, I've carved it, Kendrick did the ink. He had a 3. "I came before you, girly girl." Jerk.

I scurry out of the Registration office but not fast enough. Jaz, another Registry employee, sneaks out of a back door. As soon as he sees me, he heads straight for me. Grabbing my elbow and, no doubt mistaking my deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression for awed infatuation (yes, the guy's that vain), he stirs me further down the Registration building's first floor.

I'm too surprised to react at first. I did my homework and memorized what little information is available on the playground layout. During my due diligence (it sounds better than snooping), I also committed to memory all of the past competitions' stats, players (winners and losers, alive or dead). Why would Jasper, a two-time game winner, want to talk to me?

The Registration building, the flagship of the Competition, was amongst the useless yet vital data I collected. We're heading toward the Referees' lounge. I obediently follow Jaz. Even though referees can't manipulate the sets' outcomes, I don't want to anger one just in case. I am not flustered by the man in himself. No way. The guy's a buffoon. He takes nothing seriously. Even as he ushers a mute me down the long corridor, Mr. Nonchalant is all smiles and jokes for everyone we encounter.

"Let's go out for a drink, you and me. I'll take you dancing. We'll fuck afterward. I'll rock your world."

OK, he doesn't say that exactly, but he could have. How can this jerk have won a competition, yet alone two? His opponents must have been lousy. Maybe I should stick with him and wait for the psycho that took down Kendrick to make his move.

"There's this guy who wants to meet you," Jasper finally explains as we reach the lounge's closed door.

"What guy?"

"Joe."

"How original." My quip goes unanswered. Players, and all referees are ex-players, can pick any name they want. Without knowing him, I can already tell Joe's going to be sooo awesome.

"The poor sap's got a crush on you. He babbled something about your jet-black straight-as-pin hair and your sunny disposition."

"What?" My tangle hair's dyed a boring beige. As for my temperament, it's smart-ass turned melancholic. On my best days.

"What?" Jasper parrots. "Wait. You didn't think I was the one who wanted to buy you a drink in the lounge, did you? Aw shucks, doll, that's sweet, but I'm way out of your league."

At that, I grow a pair. "Thank fuck for small miracles." Arrogant bastard. Forget using Jasper as bait. I can't hang around that guy for a minute longer. "Tell Joe to bug off. As for you, you conceited, egotistical prick, don't ever try to set me up again." I have enough with the skinny bro and scrawny sis waiting in the suburb. "As a matter of fact, don't come near me again. Referees and players do not fraternize."

"There you are. I knew you had it in you, tiger." Tiger? The way Jaz's grinning at me, you'd think the guy enjoys being cursed. "Nothing in the rules forbids referees and players from interacting. I'll give you pointers if you buy me a drink."

Asshat.