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“Miss Harmon?” A tentative voice drawled down the line of Beth’s house telephone.
“Speaking,” She spoke professionally, hoping it wasn’t another randomer who’d ended up looking her up in the telephone book. She’d had it a fair few times after Russia.
“Hi, Miss Harmon, I’m a representative of Chess Review magazine,” He explained, and Beth’s eyebrows raised immediately. She leant on the wall, coiling the phone cord around her pointer finger.
“Oh, I see,”
“We were planning a special edition for our release next month, and would just love it if you would consider being on the cover and performing an interview after your latest success,” He sounded bored, like he’d called a thousand World Champion chess players in his lifetime, but Beth didn’t care. She beamed as she replied.
“I would be honoured,” She replied, as a sweeping sensation of gratification floated through her.
“Great—we’ll get in touch about the shoot and interview timings. Oh, and, it’ll be a shared exposé.”
“Shared?” Beth let out, not meaning to sound as harsh as she did.
“Yes—both the cover and interview will be shared with Mr. Benny Watts. We’ve heard all about the mentoring he performed before your tournament in Paris last year. Our readers want to know the ins and outs of your professional relationship.”
If Beth’s hand gripped the phone any tighter, it would have snapped in half. She breathed heavily as she tried to control the small bubbles of frustration beneath her skin. She wished she hadn’t said yes, before knowing she’d be sharing the spotlight with Benny.
It wasn’t that she hated Benny—far from it, actually. It was the added pressure of posing, talking, all while he’d done it a thousand times before. She already wasn’t looking forward to the poking and prodding of questions regarding those five weeks in his basement, but she couldn’t say no now that she’d already agreed.
“How fantastic,” She forced out, through clenched teeth.
“Speak soon, Miss Harmon.”
Beth hung up the phone as fast as physically possible, as a sudden wave of nerves hit her gut. She tried to resist the urge to bite off her nails as it all sunk in—a shared exposé in Chess Review, and of course it had to be with him.
Beth and Benny weren’t strangers, and that’s what made it all the more daunting. Benny knew her, through and through. He knew her strategies, her plays, the curves of her body with the absence of clothing, the taste of her lips against his—
Beth let out a laugh, already imagining the smug smile on the champion’s face after they’d get to the shoot, or the interview, where he’d say something like “It’s okay—I’ve done this before,” before placing his hands on his slender hips as a cheeky smile curled its way onto his lips.
Despite the black hole of nerves in her gut, Beth couldn’t deny that she was excited to see him again. It’d been a few months since her last visit to his basement after Russia—where nothing had happened, much to her surprise, or dismay. Benny had been acting strange, she’d noticed. Almost like he was finally hyperaware of his words and actions, like he was playing the long game instead of the cutthroat nature of his speed chess plays.
He’d been tentative to touch her, or share the same space and air as her. The only time he hadn’t been hesitant was when they were with company, like Hilton Wexler, but thankfully not Cleo. Beth hadn’t seen her since that night in Paris; and she liked to keep it that way.
Beth told herself to shrug it off, to think of it as fun—
But if there’s one thing Beth knew about fun, it didn’t come in the form of the press, no matter whether they liked you or loathed you.
***
Beth arrived in NYC the morning of the shoot, making her way to Benny’s. They’d decided to shoot the cover in his apartment, where, to quote, “All the action happened.”
They don’t even know the half of it, Beth thought, as she hopped out of a cab onto Benny’s doorstep. The door was wide open, with cables and wires flooding out of it into a parked van, no doubt belonging to the crew for Chess Review.
She straightened herself, smacking down the exhaustion of the flight, as she strode inside. The familiar musk of Benny’s apartment was the first thing she noticed. The hue of greys and subtle greens surrounded her as she rounded the creepy maze-like entryway to his living room. When she saw him, her shoulders immediately relaxed—
Benny sat on his kitchen counter, baggy black t-shirt and greying denim jeans donned, pretty boy hair draped over his forehead, as he oversaw crew setting up lights. He didn’t spot her immediately, too observant about how much of his stuff was being moved around. Benny was a perfectionist in nature, and when it came to his grotty little basement, he was especially protective.
Beth walked forward, and he finally met her eye. The smile he gave her was a mixture between surprise and recognition—it felt like he’d been waiting for her to come back for a long time. It felt like he’d been sat in that position since she’d left the last time.
He jumped off the counter, sauntering towards her with an intense stare. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he approached her, always positioning himself a few steps back from her, as if she were a valuable chess piece that couldn’t be touched.
“Beth,” Was all he said. Beth perked up an eyebrow.
“Benny,” She replied, mimicking his subtle amusement and boyish smile. It was like they were about to burst into laughter, but that laughter never came.
“Miss Harmon!” A man approached the two of them, grinning happily. “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’m Reggie Nixon, photographer for Chess Review. You arrived at just the right time,” He spoke on. Beth only nodded at his words, too focused on conserving her energy for the interview later on.
Reggie explained about the style of shots he was looking for, which would almost be like a replication of those five weeks of training from last year. Most of them he wanted Benny, over-seeing Beth as she sat by a chess board. It was easy enough to understand.
Beth stretched a little, as they made their way over to the coffee table and collection of cushions in the corner.
“Right—Miss Harmon, could you kneel down by the chess board for me?” Reggie said, and Beth did as she was told, despite it feeling slightly odd. “Benny, can you stand behind her and place your hand on your shoulder, almost like you’re pushing her on to play.” Benny took in a deep breath as he positioned himself, depositing his hand on her arm gently. It all felt so out of place—so unrealistic.
“Now—Beth, go ahead and act as if you’re about to move a piece, and Benny, look down at her as she does so, alright? We’re gonna go for a few shots.”
Beth was stiff as a board, same as Benny. They both adopted unintentional frowns as the camera started flashing. Reggie moved around the space in front of them, squinting into the camera as he tried to get different angles.
It was all incredibly awkward, to say the least. Beth had never felt this uncomfortable, and she’d hung out with the Apple Pie’s from high school before—it was a lot—almost too much.
Apparently, Benny felt the same way, as he let out a sigh and stepped back from her. “I’m sorry, uh, Rufus?” Benny said to Reggie. He clicked his fingers, remembering his name. “Reggie—right, yeah this isn’t going to work.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, something’s wrong. This entire pose is wrong.” Benny said, frustration laced within his words. “You’re making it seem like I taught her all she knows, which just isn’t fucking true. Not once did I stand behind her and force her to play, leering over her shoulder like I’m the master and she’s a student,”
Reggie let out an annoyed sigh. “The vision I was looking for was—,”
“There was no vision here, back then. It was just two people playing chess all day, learning the greats, that gave Beth the boost she needed to go out there to Paris and kick some ass. If you want to showcase a powerful woman, don’t have her on her knees while a man stands over her.”
Beth stayed silent as Benny talked, but she couldn’t deny it—he was sexier when he spoke his mind, especially when it concerned her.
“If you want something authentic, put us opposite each other at a board, with Beth moving me into checkmate. That’s how it went down.” Benny ended, as a small blush crept onto his cheeks in anger. Beth had never seen him this way before, and it was the complete opposite of how she’d expected him to react. Everyone knew that Benny was a genius, and with that genius came a level of ego and narcissism—it was just Benny. But this was a whole different side; one where he was offended about something that wasn’t about him.
He truly had Beth’s back.
And she knew that wholeheartedly, after all he’d done for her. The training before Paris, the care after her losses, the phone call in Russia, and everything underneath his covers.
“Set up the board,” Reggie said smally, clicking his fingers at a crew member.
After some rearranging, Beth and Benny sat opposite each other with a chess board between them. They were at the same level, face to face, champion to champion. Beth already felt a hundred times more comfortable. Benny placed his elbows on the table, as Beth adopted her signature pose of intertwined fingers beneath her chin.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Reggie said, all of his animosity targeted at Benny. “Play a slow game and we’ll go from there. Don’t worry about the clock. Just play.”
Benny moved his pawn to G4. Beth reciprocated with her pawn at G5. After a few more moves, it was like the cameras weren’t even there—
Beth was transported back to her first game against Benny. Las Vegas, 1966, where she’d lost without any grace or elegance. Benny had played valiantly, even admitting to it being a tough game to win. She’d hated him back then—maybe even despised him—to the point where she almost couldn’t believe the U-turn their relationship had taken.
Seeing him in Ohio again had caused her the oddest sensation; a warmth that travelled within her chest whenever he walked into a room. Maybe it was a mixture of frustration and something else, but Beth hadn’t known what that something else was until she was face to face with him once more in his apartment, with three won games of speed chess on her cards.
That’s when she’d embraced the feeling, the nerves of his touch, the curves of his face and the way his hair flopped over his forehead, just waiting for her to run her fingers through it.
As she moved her piece, putting Benny’s King into checkmate, the intense stare of the champion was enough to make her gulp. His small smile was infectious, causing the corners of her mouth to tug into a victorious smile.
The camera flashed once more, before Reggie burst into a joyous yell. “That’s it!” He exclaimed. “That’s the one—the King in check, the smiles of two champions as they both celebrate and commiserate. It’s perfect,” Reggie let out a sigh, wiping his forehead. “That’s a wrap. Call the interviewer.”
As the crew began to pack up, Benny cleared his throat. “Good game.” He said playfully.
“After all this time and I’m still beating you,”
“I’m an easy opponent compared to Vasily Borgov. You’re just lucky we weren’t playing speed chess.” Benny raised an eyebrow.
“You mean the game where I pocketed one-hundred and fifty dollars of your money?” Beth shot back with, sending him a smug smile.
“I think you mean made back the one-hundred and fifty dollars you lost in Ohio,” Benny hit back, shooting her a signature boyish smile. She had nothing to hit back with to that, so she accepted his comeback gracefully, as the lights and crew members left Benny’s apartment one by one.
Reggie came to the table then, sticking out a hand for Benny. Benny took it, frowning slightly.
“Mr. Watts,” Reggie said sternly, before sending a smile to Beth. “Miss Harmon. It was a pleasure.” He turned and left, his camera swaying round his neck.
“That most certainly was not a pleasure,” Benny whispered, before he stood, glaring down at the board.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Beth said, fiddling with a rook. “It’s just a magazine cover.”
“When I agreed to this, I didn’t agree to belittling a World Champion player, just because some information of me helping you leaked to the public. You didn’t win because of me, so I shouldn’t make it look that way,” Benny said smoothly, like he knew exactly what he was thinking, for once. Beth finally dared to look at him. He peered down at her, his face encased in shadow.
“You surprised me,” She let out. Benny’s face softened. He leaned down, closer to her face. Beth inhaled sharply, as the smell of his cologne surrounded her. His necklaces dangled in front of her nose, the veins in his arms had popped out.
“You surprise me every time I see you. Now we’re even.”
By the time the interviewer arrived, Beth was getting restless. It was a mixture of zero sleep, the degrading photoshoot, and the density of the tension that had flooded into Benny’s apartment. Beth had started looking at Benny like a Queen would—someone for the taking. Even if she tried to stomp it down, whenever she glanced back to his bedroom door, she was reminded of his touch—
The way he’d grabbed her arm back then, leaning so close to her that their lips were inches away from flushing together. He’d looked at her the same way he looked at a chess board—with an admiration towards its beauty and mysteries and strategies that he was so desperate to unravel and take for himself.
Beth and Benny sat at the table, opposite the interviewer—a young blonde woman in her twenties, probably not much older than Beth herself.
She got out a notebook, smiling as she readied herself to begin. “So, Benny, we hear there was a period of time after the 1967 US Championships, where you trained Beth in this very apartment. Is this true?”
Benny cleared his throat. “Yes, it is.”
“Why? After your defeat at her hands?”
Benny paused, thinking on his words. “When you’re a chess player, all you want to do is learn how everyone else plays the game. It’s an innate desire that all of us have. When Beth beat me, I wanted to know exactly how, but I also wanted her to do it again, this time to players with bigger wins under their belts than mine.”
“Did you believe she could do it without your help?”
Benny furrowed his brows quizzically. “There’s no question about it; Beth can do anything she sets her mind to. Let me get this straight—I didn’t do this because she needed the training, I did it because everyone needs a right-hand man every once in a while,” Benny swallowed, his face softening. “Everyone needs company when chess is such an isolating game.”
The interviewer’s eyebrows raised at that, as Beth’s heart began to crawl its way up her throat. She knew Benny wouldn’t reveal anything, but with her being the only competitive woman in chess, knowing that she’d spent such a long time with the champion had to raise questions surrounding the obvious—
“So—did your relationship get any stronger because of this time?”
Beth took the reins on this one, leaning forward immediately.
“I’d only met Benny three times when I decided to take him up on the offer. Everything we’ve ever done together has been about chess, and chess alone.” Beth decided to move onto something else—something to take away from the question of sex. “My mother died before the US Championships. I was living at home alone for the first time, and winning the championships didn’t just come as a celebration; it was terrifying.” Beth gulped, daring to shoot at glance at the champion next to her. “Benny was the first player who ever showed any sense friendship to me, despite our earlier competitions. It was five weeks at home, studying alone, or five weeks with a champion, surrounded by company and a greater drive for winning. It was a no-brainer.”
Benny smiled at her then. His eyes were gentle, his lips in the softest of lines. It was an image she wished she could pocket and keep on her at all times.
“Is your friendship still ongoing?” The interviewer asked, and Beth’s throat dried up. She didn’t know what to say, after everything that happened in between Paris and after Russia. She didn’t know if, after Benny’s hesitation with her last time they saw each other, that he still considered her, well—a friend.
Benny laughed immediately, letting out soft chuckles. He scratched his moustache, shooting a cheery face to the interviewer. “Anyone who can stand to be in the same room with me for more than a few hours, I consider a friend. Beth and I may seem like we have a lot in common, simply because of chess, but that’s not the case. She’s intelligent and witty, brilliant at comebacks. Not as funny as me, but she’s getting there,” His sarcasm was apparent, making the interviewer chuckle in response. “Beth is probably one of the closest friends I’ve ever had.”
Beth shot him a glance, utterly stunned by that response. Benny continued. “When you grow up with chess as your whole life, it’s hard to meet likeminded people. I get on with Beth on and off the board.”
The interviewer turned to Beth then, curiosity all over her face. Beth took in a breath, smiling down the warmth she felt. “Like Benny said, chess is an isolated world. I feel like, in terms of the norm, myself and Benny don’t really fit with the rest of the chess world. I think that’s just one of the reasons why we get on so well.”
“So well?” The interviewer urged, and Benny rolled his eyes.
“If you’re trying to make us confess to some kind of intimate relationship, then you’re in the wrong place. I would have expected this from somewhere like Good Housekeeping, not Chess Review.” Benny said it jokingly, as the interviewer shot him a smirk.
“I’ll be sure to be present for your interview with Good Housekeeping.” She let out, but sarcasm was on her lips. She shot Benny that same smirk, fluttering her eyes over his face. Beth didn’t realise it for a few seconds, but when she did, her eyebrows furrowed immediately—the interviewer was flirting with him. Not subtly either.
“Beth,” She said, reverting back to professionalism slightly, but still angling herself more towards Benny’s side of the table. “How does it feel knowing you’re the only woman to make it this far in a highly male community? Have any players, well, tried it on with you?”
Beth licked her lips, as a frown rested on her face. This was the last question she wanted to answer, and she was going to answer it well. She’d been expecting something like this; it was always the same, whenever society saw a woman excelling at a man’s job.
“I used to get asked a lot about who I found attractive, or if the appeal of chess for me was because of all the men I got to meet at competitions, so I’ll simply reiterate what I said back then—,” Beth hated being spoken to this way. It boiled her blood. “It’s not just a man’s game; I proved that when Borgov resigned our game. I proved that when Harry Beltik tipped his King. I proved that when Benny Watts stuck out his hand in defeat. It’s never been about men, nor has it been about that when it comes to myself and Benny. Chess is chess. It’s sixty-four tiles and thirty-two pieces on a board. The sexism I get, even from other women who know of the game, is astounding. For once, I want an interview question about how I study, or who I admire the most in the chess world, or how it felt to win. Write that down in your notebook.”
Beth leaned back immediately, breathing heavily as she ignored the flush on her cheeks. Benny was smiling at her, eyes beaming. He glanced at the interviewer, with a fuck you expression on his chin. The interviewer looked taken aback, just as Beth had wanted. She’d moved her pieces, she’d taken her Queen, her Rook, her Knight, and she’d gone for the King. It was just a matter of time before her blonde curls resigned.
She cleared her throat awkwardly, as a frown had deposited itself on her face. “Who do you most admire in the chess world?” She asked smally, and Beth put on a sweet smile for the invisible cameras.
“Benny Watts.” She said plainly.
Benny shut the door after the interviewer left, strolling back into the living room. Beth was still at the table, leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. Benny let out a low, slow whistle, smiling to himself as he stood before her.
“You’ve got some nerve,” Benny’s eyes ate her up, like the most expensive Russian chess piece in a shop window.
“I hate the way they all assume I’m in this for male gratification. It’s humiliating and offensive.” Beth said sternly.
“You’re absolutely right.”
“She was flirting with you, you know,” Beth added. Benny stepped forward, leaning on the egde of the table.
“I know. It wasn’t hard to notice.” Benny shot a smirk at her, looking her up and down in her sulking pose. “It got to you, didn’t it?” He let out playfully, and Beth finally dared to look at him. She tried not to reveal anything, but her face was so easy to read.
“It doesn’t matter,” She said, trying to dismiss the conversation. She stood then, making her way round to the living room. Benny grabbed her arm abruptly, pulling her towards him.
Beth let him do it. She let his fingers curl around her forearm and tug her closer to his chest. She let him place his other hand on her waist gently, as his eyes pierced hers so intensely. It was that look—that look from before that she knew so well.
It was only a matter of time before he made his move and flushed his lips against hers, but this time, she wanted to be the one to do it first—
Without hesitating, Beth plunged her lips against his, inhaling every part of the champion. Benny’s grip on her waist tightened, as his other arm snaked around to her lower back. When they pulled away, Benny let out a small chuckle.
“It doesn’t matter, right?” He asked, typical Watts sarcasm laced within his words.
“It doesn’t matter, because I knew I was going to do that after she left.” Beth allowed herself to relax, to fall into his embrace just a little bit more. She let her guards down all at once, as Benny raised his fingers to her hair, pushing a few strands behind her ear.
“Know any other moves?” There was a hunger in his voice. A rawness, a coarseness, that could only mean Beth’s clothes would be the next thing to resign.
“There are a couple I’ve always wanted to try,” She let out smoothly, seeing the way her words made Benny melt in her palms. He grabbed her face gently, pulling her in as close as possible without touching her lips to his.
“Let’s play, then.”