#queen's gambit

Gravel crunched under the heels of your once pristine Chanel heels. You could feel the gazes of strangers follow you as you moved through the busy city. Your heels might’ve been a bit scuffed, something you would fix soon, but the rest of you was as carefully crafted as the dessert box you had stuffed in your bag. A neatly ironed red dress fluttered around your body as you took a moment to let your own eyes wander around the city. Hidden by your new sunglasses, which were pressed up to the top of your nose, you made an effort to take note of every head that turned your way and every gaze that lingered too long. It had become a habit of sorts, conducting your own personal survey of who paid you mind and then tucking the information in the back of your head. It probably had something to do with your job, or maybe it was your upbringing, or even better, it could’ve been your father, but whatever it was, you knew for a fact that these little habits, these observations that you so naturally picked up, were what made you excellent. An involuntary smile graced your face as you thought about it. Sure, excellence seemed excessive, and a part of you wanted to believe that you didn’t deserve that description, but you knew to survive in your position, you had to have an overinflated and infallible ego, so with a gentle smile and nod to the doorman, you slipped into the foyer of your apartment building.

White stone and glistening marble decorated the foyer from floor to ceiling with delicate splashes of gold dotted in between the monochrome sight. Beautiful wasn’t quite the word you would use to describe it; white and gold had never been your style, it had always felt like an imitation of what man thought heaven would be – something pure and clean, decorated with the only thing they thought valuable. Regardless, the foyer and subsequently the rest of the building was nice, and it mirrored the image that you had to present to the world, so you stuck around. Walking into the elevator, you pressed the button for the fifth floor, one down from the penthouse at the top of the building. It had been maybe a year since you’d moved into this apartment, and you’d quickly decided it was your favourite, although that generally came with being an absurdly expensive, high-end building. You pulled your keys out with a gloved hand and unlocked the door to your apartment. You only had a couple of hours or so until you had to head out to meet with Beth; she’d picked a new bar that was around ten minutes away, so you had just about enough time to clean up your flat a bit and change before you needed to leave.

You and Beth had always been a bit of a peculiar friendship. The pair of you had met after her win at the Moscow Invitational; she’d been invited to a gala your father was throwing and, surprise surprise, the only two women who weren’t hanging off a man’s arm had gotten to chatting. People must’ve thought it was a one-time thing, just some women gabbing about nothing while bored, but you’d stayed in touch, and that raised a few eyebrows. To an extent, you understood them. Beth was brilliant, analytical, subtle in her thoughts and, in most things, quiet. You, on the other hand, were a loud-mouthed, rich daddy’s princess who played dress up wherever she went. Beth had always said that people saw what they wanted to see, and when they looked at the pair of you, they didn’t want to admit that the girl the newspapers praised for her intelligence and the girl the papers gossiped about for her spending habits enjoyed each other’s company. She had always been the sceptic between the two of you. You had a bit of a different theory, it was much simpler than what Beth thought, but you found that a little bit of simplicity wasn’t a bad thing.

Fluffing the last pillow on your couch, a sage green one that you’d had custom-made to match the exact hue of the wood trim on your couch. Yes, you were excessive, but you had the money to back it up, so who really cared. With a content huff, you flung open your unnecessarily extravagant wardrobe and began rooting through your dresses. You’d already decided on a black on black ensemble, but now you just had to decide on which one. The black knee-high boots you’d bought a couple of weeks ago sat on the floor beside your dresser and next to your favourite patterned black leather YSL clutch. You’d also decided on a clean pearl jewellery set that your father had bought you for one of your birthdays, or more specifically, he’d had sent to you as he missed your birthday. You pursed your lips as you laid out your three best options on your bed and squinted at them, hoping it would make your decision easier. 

It didn’t. 

Instead, you moved to sit at your vanity and started on your makeup. You kept everything neat and clean, no bright colours, no crazy mascara and no intense eyeshadow. You were going to meet what just might be your closest friend, and fortunately, that meant you didn’t have to try and impress or seduce anyone. You looked into the mirror and a gorgeous woman stared back at you, pearls, makeup and face all so put together and so perfect. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate it, that would’ve been insincere, everyone likes to look pretty, but you’d gotten so used to getting ready in a certain way, everything was practically a math equation, and it bored you. Having to be constantly aware of everyone else was tiresome. You looked back over to your bed and, giving yourself only a moment to decide, you opted for the third dress. It was a little trick you’d picked up working under your father, you give yourself a maximum of ten seconds and basically force your brain to stop thinking about anything else. As a woman with the precarious position that you had, you couldn’t risk being seen as indecisive, so you’d quickly trained yourself on making snap analytical decisions. Lucky for you, it also helped with your more superficial debacles. The dress was a short-ish, sleeveless black one made of a material that had the sheen of satin but none of the flimsiness. Its neckline was tasteful and slipped just low enough to show off some collarbone and your beautiful string of pearls. Paired with the matching pearl earrings, which were exaggerated by your updo, you looked good. With a soft smile, you slipped on your boots and picked up your clutch, stuffing a lipstick, lip gloss and a couple powders into it before moving back into the kitchen. You picked one of the chocolate macarons out of your dessert box and shoved it into your mouth, not quite the small, gentle bites you’d been taught to take, and left the apartment.

The bar, Crimson Palace, was quite clearly new with no stains in the carpet or wear on the leather couches; it was the kind of pristine that came with fresh materials and not expensive cleaning. There was a subtle difference between the two, and truthfully, it wasn’t enough to be concerned about, but you’d trained yourself to see these details, so now you saw them everywhere you went. The scent of whiskey lingered in the air, curling around the dissipating tendrils of smoke that were no doubt coming from the men in the corner booth. Fortunately, the place was new enough that the smells hadn’t yet sunk into the furniture and instead floated through the air, creating a certain rugged ambience. Muted red and yellow lighting beat down on you as you walked across the plush carpet floor, making your way to the back of the building where the main bar was situated.

You saw her bright, cropped, auburn hair before anything else. It had always been her identifying feature. Beth had always said yours was the click of your heels as you approached. Right now, you couldn’t hear your heels clicking on the carpet, but somehow Beth knew anyway. Spinning on her heel, she met your eyes, a familiar smile decorating her face. It was subtle, almost secretive, but it was genuine, and it felt like home. Wasn’t that strange? You’d known her for such a short time, yet she might’ve been your only true friend. Was that beautiful or pathetic?

You weren’t sure.

“Well, look who it is. What have I done to be in the presence of Beth Harmon tonight?” The grin on your face was natural as you threw your arms open and embraced your friend. Beth reciprocated equally as forceful. You’d think for someone so quiet all of the time, she’d be soft too, but Beth loved just as hard as anyone else, and you loved her all the more for it.

“You’re such a pain,” she smiled and pulled away from you, resting her hands on your shoulder before turning her attention to the bar. You mirrored her action, shifting on your heel, eyes flicking to the drink the bartender had just placed down. A daiquiri – your favourite. “Come on, we’re sitting over there.” Beth’s fingers circled your wrist and tugged you in the direction of the booths lining the right wall. Your eyes jumped from booth to booth, but all of them were filled. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you turned to Beth, but she had her eyes locked on one of the middle booths that was currently being taken up by some guy. He was decked out in a full black on black outfit highlighted by a ridiculous full-length leather coat, but that wasn’t the worst bit. The worst bit was the stupid-looking cowboy hat that he’d not only decided was a good choice to wear but he’d also decided was a great choice not to take off. Who was this douche?

Beth slid into the booth opposite the stranger, and you followed suit, moving to sit beside her. The cowboy finally looked up from his drink, a whiskey sour from the looks of it, and now, seeing him up close, you had an inkling that maybe you’d seen him before. His eyes were inquisitive as he looked at you before lighting up in that familiar way you’d seen so many times before. He knew who you were. Weirdly, though the man made no effort to open his mouth, so neither did you, instead you turned to Beth, waiting for an introduction.

“y/n this is Benny Watts and Benny this is-”

“You’re that rich girl.” Benny cut Beth off and turned his full attention to you. You grit your teeth. “What’s his name?” he clicked, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember your father’s name. “Simon Abernathy,” Benny smiled, eyes flicking back to you, waiting for a reaction – you gave none. “You’re his spoiled little princess, aren’t you?” So this was how he wanted to act. Wonderful. You’re eyes momentarily flicked to your friend beside you, but she made no move to shut him up, instead hiding a secretive smile behind her glass. You sighed, letting your shoulder relax with a quick shrug. It wasn't often that people were this direct with their disdain, or rather, judgment, but you couldn’t say you hated it. You had always liked a good fight. Your face relaxed into an expression of mild disinterest as you met Benny’s gaze head-on with a slight tilt of your head.

“Your name sounds familiar. Why is that?” You ignored all of his words and shifted the attention back to him as you took a short, calculated sip of your drink.

“Well, you’re not the only one that’s been in the papers.” Benny matched your pace, taking a sip of his own drink. “You’re looking at the three-time US chess champion.”

“Oh, I see.” You put your glass back on the table and gently ran your finger around the rim. “And would I be right in assuming that was before Beth showed up?” You raised your eyebrows in challenge at the mock cowboy in front of you. Benny rolled his eyes and sank back into the couch.

“Very funny.” You simply shrugged, motioning one of the bar staff over.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Maybe you can book a fashion deal with your… interesting style.” Beth coughed beside you, and you smirked as Benny's own smile fell, but you didn’t let yourself linger in victory for too long. Tuning your attention to the waiter, you took note of his name tag – Mark – and spoke. “Hi Mark.” Your smile shifted to a softer and kinder one. Something you’d used on men and bartenders so many times before. “Would you mind getting us all another round of drinks and one of your sampling platters.” You paused for a moment, turning back to Beth “Are we expecting more company?” Beth nodded, and for whatever reason, you didn’t hate that. “Actually, make that two platters Mark, and-” you reached into your purse, pulling out a tenner, “this is for you, just stick close okay.” You folded the note into the man’s palm with a smile, which he reciprocated before leaving you to your company. “Elizabeth,” you looked at your friend, “would you like to tell me who else is joining us?”

Cleo was a gorgeous woman whom you’d taken to almost immediately. She’d come in wearing a beautiful custom azure dress, which you’d complimented almost immediately, she’d reciprocated by noting your pearl jewellery set and then the pair of you had promptly made plans to go shopping some time in the near future. Arthur and Hilton were both chess nuts like Beth and Benny. Fortunately for you, they were much better company than Benny. You sat on one side of the booth between Beth and Cleo while the boys sat together opposite you. The sampling platters were almost entirely cleared, with only a few stray grapes on cubes of cheese left and while no glasses were piling up on the table, Mark was a wonderful and attentive waiter, you were more than aware that everyone was reaching drunk. Sometime during the night, Benny and Arthur had switched places so that Arthur could talk chess with Beth, leaving Benny sitting right across from you. You tried not to notice it but even if you refused to look at him you could feel his eyes linger on you between conversations. His stare wasn’t one you were used to, it wasn’t curious or uncomfortable but rather it was searching as if he was trying to reach deep inside you and find something that even you weren’t aware of.

Alcohol buzzed through your system and your head was beginning to feel light. Thankfully, you still had enough sense to gesture Mark over. Leaning awkwardly over the back of your booth, you slipped Mark a slip of paper with your driver’s number and told him to ring and ask him to bring the car around – enough to fit six people. Mark smiled in the polite way he’d been doing all night and headed off in what you assumed was the direction of the telephone. Beside you, Beth was all smiles and giggles as she talked to Arthur about what you picked up was some chess opening. You dropped your head to her shoulder and murmured just under her ears. “We can move this party to mine. I’ve got space for everyone to stay the night.” You worried she might not have picked up on what you said, but as she continued conversation with a very much drunk Arthur, Beth managed to acknowledge and accept your offer. It was a damn good thing you’d cleaned up before leaving the house.

“Stop staring at me.” You finally turned your attention to Benny, who was downing the rest of his drink.

“But you’re so interesting.” You followed suit, finishing your drink and smiling at Mark as he cleared the table of glasses.

“How so?” Genuine curiosity coloured your tone as you settled your full attention on the cowboy in front of you. Benny mirrored your attitude, an almost imperceptible smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“Well, for starters, I can’t for the life of me figure out how you and Beth are friends.” Your smile faltered at Benny’s words but only for a moment before you steadied your cool facade.

“Is it really that surprising that two well-known women would end up friends?” Benny shrugged, drumming his fingers on the wooden table.

“Maybe a couple of years ago, but now. You’re both so different.”

“You don’t know anything about me Watts.”

“Maybe, but I know people like you and well, you’re not exactly the best crowd.” You grit your teeth and pinched the skin on your hand under the table. You hated people like him, people who thought they knew you just because they’d read the paper. Where do they get the audacity to believe they had all the insight into the life of a stranger? You hated it, but you tolerated it because that was your job. You forced a smile onto your face before you responded to Benny. It was cruel and insincere, and you hoped Benny could feel your distaste for his very presence from across the table.

“If that’s what you want to believe then be my fucking guest.” It was at that exact moment that Mark showed up and thank god that he did because you were about to crawl across the table and claw Benny’s smug, beady fucking eyes out.

“You’re car’s here ma’am.” You smiled softly at Mark as you ushered Cleo to stand up. A collective groan rang out across the more inebriated members of the group and you sighed, trying to rub your growing headache out of you through your eyes. “I’ve got more booze at my place.” That perked everyone up as they began to shuffle slightly faster out of the booth. “The car’s out front, I’ll settle everything here and meet you outside.” You got a round of thanks and the group slowly trudged their way out of the bar, some arms slung around each other as they went. They looked happy – it was nice. You turned back to Mark and fished through your purse for the money to cover the tab. “This should cover everything.” You dropped a few notes in Mark’s hand. “And this is for you.” You folded another tenner into the pocket on Mark’s vest, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You work here often?” Mark followed beside you as you made your way to the door.

“Yep, I’m here almost every night.”

“Good, I might visit again.” Mark grinned, a brighter smile than the polite service one he’d been using all night and you offered a genuine smile back before leaving the bar.

Your eyes tracked over the cars parked along the curb before landing on Vince, your personal driver, standing near a black Aston Martin which looked far too small for six passengers. You strode towards him, lips slightly downturned and opened your mouth to ask but Vince cut you off, eyes wide and fingers interlocked in front of him. “I’m so sorry Miss, the van was being serviced tonight and I couldn’t get a bigger ride.” You sighed, looking into the car and noting that Beth had taken the front passenger seat while the other four sat in the back, Cleo sitting comfortably on Hilton’s lap. “The others have said they’re happy to adjust, but I’m more than happy to do two trips if you’d prefer.” Vince continued, but you’d already made up your mind.

“It’s fine Vince. It’s just a short trip anyway. Thank you for coming out so late.” You smiled at the older man who smiled back and led you to the other side of the car. Vince opened up the door and you looked down into the car, expecting to see Arthur sitting there. 

Benny was a genuine fucking bitch.

You could tell immediately that the asshole was holding back a grin as he stared up at your less than pleased face. “Come on, it’s getting cold, I want to close the door.” Surely no one would mind if you killed him. Your eyes flickered to everyone else in the car who was yet to notice your reluctance, but it was only a matter of time until they did, and you weren’t in the mood to settle a bunch of cold drunks. Gritting your teeth, you ducked your head and moved into the car, hesitating for a moment before ultimately settling down in Benny’s lap. Benny moved his hands to your hips, and you froze for a moment before realising they weren’t wandering or even curious, he was just keeping you steady. You let your shoulders relax. “How long until we get to my flat Vince?” the older man buckled into the driver's seat and looked at you through the rearview mirror as he spoke.

“Just ten minutes Miss.” You nodded at him before beginning to drill holes into the headrest in front of you.

The car began to move and your body stiffened. Your back was pin-straight, and you made every effort to make sure as few parts of your body touched Benny, but he didn’t seem to agree with your avoidance. “Relax princess, you may not like me but you don’t have to punish yourself for it.” You opened your mouth to call him out but no sound came out as one of Benny’s hands wrapped around your shoulder and tugged you back, while the other hand on your hip tightened to keep you steady. Benny straightened his back and brought his lips to your ear, so close that you could smell booze on him as he spoke. “We only just met, and you’re already gritting your teeth at the thought of me. Surely that’s a record.” You knew he couldn’t see you but you rolled your eyes anyway, praying that this ride would finish sooner.

“I swear to god Watts, if you don’t shut up I’m going to strangle you.”

“That would involve touching me princess and you seem to be desperately avoiding that.” Benny let his head drop back against the headrest so that he wasn’t crowding against your neck but he maintained that one hand, gently resting on your hip. You probably could’ve pushed it off, but you didn’t — it wasn’t worth it.

The rest of the ride to your apartment was fine and the group had sobered a little, making them all the more restless to get to your apartment so they could drink again. You grabbed your keys from your purse and opened the door as everyone waited behind you. You didn’t miss the way their eyes had raked over the apartment lobby or how Hilton had traced his fingertips over the gold detailing between the walls. Maybe it was a bad idea bringing them all back here. You were starting to enjoy their company and things like this might ruin it. Sure, you were never subtle about your wealth; hell, you probably couldn’t even if you wanted to – it was plastered all over the papers – but you were aware that hearing it and seeing it were very different things. Wealth was much more jarring when you could see all the things it could give you. Regardless of your concerns, no one said a word as they piled into your living room. Cleo had already wandered into your kitchen to pull out a wine bottle, a very nice Bordeaux that you never found time to open. You helped her grab some glasses as she began to pour. Behind you, in the lounge room, Beth rooted through one of your cabinets, pulling out a carved wooden chessboard. She turned to the guys as you handed the filled glasses to everyone and slouched down into the couch. “Shall we have some fun?” Her voice was bright and tinted with booze, but she was met with happy agreements across the board. Beside you, Cleo topped up your glass, bringing the ruby liquid up to the rim, following suit with her own glass. “We’re going to need this if we want to get through tonight.” You chuckled and took a healthy sip.

Soft starlight steamed through your window as you closed the curtains in your living room. You looked over your shoulder and noted the guys’ sleeping arrangements. Arthur was strewn across your bigger couch, pillow tucked under his head and looking very comfortable as he snored. The other two, Hilton and Benny, were both sprawled across a mattress that you had tucked away in your guest bedroom. Both Beth and Cleo were sleeping in said guest bedroom, leaving you with an entire bed and bedroom to yourself. Your eyes drooped as you moved across the lounge room to your bedroom but you were stopped in your tracks as a mild ringing drifted out from the study. You looked at the clock that hung up on the wall, a gorgeous, ornate one that had been a gift from one of the investors at your father’s company, and noted it was very, very late. With a resigned huff, you slipped into the study and wrenched the phone to your ear. “Hello,” your words ground like gravel out of your throat and you made a mental note to drink some water before bed. “Who is this?” Your voice lifted at the end in question, the all to familiar pleasant voice you’d used on phone calls since you were a child.

“y/n my dear, how are you?” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to keep them open as you straightened yourself.

“Dad? Why are you calling so late?” You could feel your father’s smile through the phone line, even before he began to speak.

“Right, right, let me get to the point.” You leaned your head back and let your eyes flutter closed as you waited for him to continue. “So I have some news,” he paused, and you almost groaned into the speaker, but somehow managed to stop yourself. “I’m planning on stepping down as CEO.” This immediately got your attention. Your eyes widened, and your body stiffened as you quickly began your questions.

“Wait dad what do you me-”

“I’m stepping down and I’m recommending you to the board as my replacement.”

“Slow down. Why are you doing this?” You spoke fast, but your tone was steady, fingers drumming along the varnished wood surface of your desk.

“Oh don’t sound so glum. It was bound to happen soon enough and I want you to be the one to take over. The company is your right as far as I’m concerned.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, as much as my word matters, this is also largely up to the board, so you’ll still need to convince them.” You nodded along. What he was saying made sense. The company had a lot of investors and shareholders involved, so it only made sense for them to be involved in the process. “Regardless of what happens I want you to know you have my support, and I will be making that very clear to everyone during this process.”

“Thank you dad.” It was all you could bring yourself to say. Between your shock, fatigue, and overall inability to process what was going on, you genuinely had no other words to say.

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Now go get some sleep.”