Sinners ─ B. Watts

Prologue

     Violet savored the strong black coffee, the dark and robust flavor invigorating her senses. She furrowed her brow as her gaze fell upon an old photo of herself, captured during her younger years. In the picture, her hair gleamed with golden hues, adorned with bangs and two tiny braids on the sides. She wore round glasses, not of her own choosing, a look that would have scared people away if she hadn't already been a national champion. The memories of those days weren't ones she could call happy, but she acknowledged feeling more at ease back then than she did now — lonely, broke, aimless, and trapped in a dull life.

     As an adult, Violet realized she held the steering wheel of life, even if she hadn't quite figured out how to drive her metaphorical car. She yearned to steer it down the road she had envisioned her whole life, and the upcoming chess tournament with Beth Harmon as her new inspiration seemed like the perfect opportunity to do just that.

     Watching Benny's debut as the red-headed chess prodigy who won all her games without defeats or ties in the past years, Violet couldn't help but notice the similarities between them, which prompted her, even more, to consider re-entering the US Open and facing players of any kind.

     Exhaling a cloud of smoke from her cigarette, Violet glanced at the newspaper article she had been reading. The media often sensationalized things to attract attention, but she was accustomed to such foolishness, having seen her parents handle it in the past. She was only interested in seeing the good pictures of herself they provided.

     A sudden knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, prompting her to whirl around and listen intently. Curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked through the eyehole to inspect the unfamiliar figures. Unlocking the door, she opened it carefully, wearing a slight but evident scowl on her face. 

          "May I help you?"

     Standing before her was a middle-aged woman, Roberta Davenport, accompanied by a younger man with a camera around his neck. 

     Roberta introduced herself, "Oh, yes! I'm so glad you've opened the door! Roberta Davenport is my name. Mr. Roger Frankwood is one of our outstanding photographers. We're from Chess Review, and we were wondering if there is any chance—,"

          "I don't think so."

     Violet was definitely not fond of the press, public statements, or personal inquiries, especially since she was no longer an active chess player. Her eyes sparkled with a touch of amusement as she cut Roberta off before she could continue. 

          "Let me guess, you must keep your readers as delighted as possible since my return influences everything to some extent, am I right, Ms. Davenport?" she stated matter-of-factly, taking another sip of her dark coffee.

          "Ms. Davis, you are correct, yes. We've been brought to the attention of your media-related behavior. We've also been warned that you'll most likely decline our proposal, but—" Roberta began, but Violet interjected again with a quick and sharp remark.

          "Correct once again. So, I guess you already know the answer," Violet said, flashing a fake grin and reaching for the doorknob. However, Ms. Davenport stepped closer, her resolve evident, forcing Violet to refrain from shutting the door in their faces.

     Roberta sighed loudly, attempting to put Violet at ease. "Ms. Davis, we won't be around long. Only a few questions. We...are aware that you have expressed frustration with the arrangement of our most recent articles. I mean, we're inclined to change or remove whatever you want as long as it's appropriate and suitable. Our magazines strive to be as genuine and authentic as possible," the woman concluded, her demeanor indicating sincerity.

     Violet hesitated for a moment, torn between her initial reluctance and the possibilities that this interview presented. Despite her brain's attempts to dissuade her, Violet was known for her tenacity and determination. She rarely gave up on a cause, and this was just an interview — a harmless one, she hoped.

     As they stepped inside, Violet blinked a few times, trying to shake off her momentary drowsiness, and refocused her mind on reality. "Alright. Only a couple of questions," she declared, dragging her eyes back up to Roberta. The woman nodded, unbuttoning her coat, while Violet closed the door behind them as the man followed.

     Ms. Davenport glanced around, scrutinizing every detail and corner of Violet's house, seemingly preparing to write a report on her living room. Violet couldn't help but notice the woman's disapproval of the flowery tapestry and antique furnishings, but she didn't mind.

          "You could have phoned me before coming here," Violet pointed out, pulling her hair up in a messy pencil bun. She had started wearing it that way after it had grown excessively long, and she constantly ran out of hair ties.

          "Oh, dear, you know very well that you would have rejected," Ms. Davenport replied, holding her papers.

     Violet bit the inside of her cheek. While her parents had handled all her interviews, this time she felt a bit uncomfortable. She acknowledged her intelligence and self-sufficiency as an adult.

          "Would you mind recording rather than writing?" she quickly asked Ms. Davenport, searching for her red lipstick, which she had scattered throughout her house. "If that's alright with you, I'd like to minimize the speculation about my opinion on any rubbish that travels around."

     Roberta arched an eyebrow but gave her a short nod of approval. She pulled a tape recorder from her black leather bag, "Done. Here you have it," she said flatly, running her hand through her frizzy blonde hair. "Just let me know when you're ready," she added.

     Taking a deep breath, Violet rotated her shoulders and said, "You can start."

          "Perfect," Roberta said, holding out the gadget and looking up into Violet's eyes, ready to capture every word.

     Violet stiffened as the flash from the camera made intense contact with her eyes.

          "Aside from the US Open, have you considered participating in any other competitions?" Roberta inquired.

          "There isn't any until the Open, but if feasible, I'll attend a couple after that," Violet responded blankly. She was surprised at how direct this journalist was.

     Roberta nodded, "Alright. From what we've heard, your declaration underlines that the female section is no longer a priority for you. Is that true?"

     Violet fiddled with her jewelry, feeling a bit caught off guard. "Well, yes, if you put it that way," she replied, trying to sound innocent, even though she knew the implication behind the question. "But I wish for the female section to collide with the male one so that we won't have to point out the differences between men and women."

     With a sly smirk, Roberta's intentions became evident, "What about Benny Watts? Do you think he would agree with this?"

     Shit.