Page 13 of Mafia and Gold Digger

I can feel the heat of each one of his fingers burning through my thin sleeve. “Where are we going?” Unease sears the edges of my voice. This isn’t the way back to his car.

“To the park.”

“For what?”

“For you to play a game of chess.”

“Wait, what?”

“I want to see you play. See if you’re good for something other than working for drug pushers and gun sellers.”

I suck in a breath. This man really knows how to get a girl’s back up. “Maybe I don’t want to play.”

“Of course you do. One game.”

“No, thanks.”

His voice hardens. “Either let me watch you play one game and then I’ll let you go, or we can continue our discussion but this time without the ice cream and pleasantries.”

I swallow down the agitation crawling up my throat. “If I play, you’ll let me go?” I really want to avoid the cop station if I can.

He nods his assent. I’m not sure if he’s even telling the truth or what he’s up to, but I’ll take a game of chess any day over more questioning from him.

“Are you free for a game?” I ask a man with a gray beard and a woolen hat pulled down over his ears. It can get cold sitting out here when the sun goes behind the clouds.

“Sure, missy,” he says with a twinkly smile revealing his crooked teeth.

I make a plan to lose the game in super quick time. That way I can get out of here and far away from this cop.

Once I start moving the pieces though, the lure of the game is too great, and I find myself playing for real.

My mom always said I was too pretty to play a dull game like chess. But the truth is I find the game utterly intoxicating. It’s like a drug I can't get enough of. It’s an elusive high that I’m always chasing and I never want to stop feeling. It’s a battle where I can compete on a level playing field, where my reputation or past deeds don't affect my chance of success.

I open with the Queen’s Gambit, one of my favorite openings because of the fight to control the center and the way it puts immediate pressure on Black.

White pawn to c4.

Black pawn to e6.

White knight to f3.

Black pawn to d5.

White pawn to d4.

Black knight to f6...

The entire time, Saint watches me like a predator stalking its prey. Surely, he must find this boring. It’s probably another twisted ploy, just like the ice cream, to make him seem like a nice guy who’s trying to be my friend.

But I become so engrossed in the game that I don’t notice forty minutes have flown by. I’ve even stopped noticing Saint’s stare upon me. Because all I care about is the black and white carved pieces in front of me. Each piece has its own history and its own destiny, but all of it is guided by the rules that define its moves.

Eventually, the old guy tips over his king, conceding the game with a chuckle. “You’re good, missy. Best game I’ve played all week.”

I stand up, beam him a smile, and thank him for the game. “Thanks for the game. I really appreciate it.”

Walking away, I turn to Saint. “I’m free to go now?” I ask in an icy tone.

“Yeah. But I’ll drive you to where you were headed. Casino Venice, right?”

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