Sinners ── B. Watts

Anastasia's Checkmate

CHAPTER 4
Las Vegas, 1950

     Violet's pulse accelerated again just as soon as their eyes opened. She was a bit scared of what Beth's next words will be, although they both had enjoyed it, the kiss. However, there was a sense of strain, as if there was an inward burst of energy just as soon as she pulled away. 

          "I'm sorry," Violet demurred.

          "Don't be," Beth nodded, "I should head back."

          "I must say goodbye to your mother," Violet rose from her spot.

     Beth took a step towards the entrance, blocking her access. "I'll let her know you had to go."

          "I'm very sorry if I made you feel—"

          "Don't be, Violet," Beth repeated and wheeled around to face Violet. She held her gaze for a few more seconds before the door's hinges creaked and shrieked. 

     For a little while, they peered into each other's eyes, just long enough not to turn the moment into something awkward. The tension was odd and strong at the same time. It was truly astounding how such a frail connection had eased all of her pain, and tension, and even provided comfort, Violet's comfort. She couldn't lie to herself, she had concerns regarding Beth's mood or how she was feeling towards her, she knew she shouldn't have tried so hard to make this moment about herself now that Violet was aware the younger woman hadn't been kissed before. She felt guilty. 

     Violet's age wasn't the only issue. When she thought of Beth Harmon, she saw a lovely, angelic young woman, smart as a tack with a wealth of knowledge and talent. The problem was, so did everyone else, and she refused to believe that was the only thing they had attracted her. Something more significant had to be there, between them. Their connection felt so genuine. 

          "This was wrong."

          "I know I was the one that wanted this in the first place—," Beth demanded, "—But I came here to win. I can't have anything or anyone to come in between me and chees," a weak smile flickered across Beth's face.

          "Maybe one day we'll be able to pick up where we left off."

          "Maybe."

     Violet's rosy frigid cheeks began to flood with tears as soon as she drifted away from Beth. She immediately cleaned them away with her sleeve before throwing her coat back over her shoulders and racing ahead, wiping the mascara from her face with her palm, struggling not to think about going back and hugging her for the last time. She couldn't stop herself from sobbing, no matter how much she swore she wouldn't and it felt like shit.

     She scolded herself for leaving so soon and for listening to Beth when she claimed she'd handle everything just fine. She felt like an idiot for not saying goodbye to Mrs. Wheatley. She'd been so sweet and gentle to her as if they were both their daughters, and Mrs. Wheatley didn't deserve to be treated that way after what she had said about Violet's talent and her looks. If it had been Martha instead of Alma, she would have eaten the rest of their food and proceeded with the dinner like the mature woman she was. But fuck Martha.

     Violet slipped her coat off when she reached the hotel's entrance and threw her purse over her shoulder. She glared at the doorkeeper before muttering something that seemed to be a "Good evening," The young man just scowled slightly when he saw her heavy eyes and damp cheeks, but he calmly gave way for her without asking any questions.