The Chessboard

 Glenn congratulated Roberto and smiled as he reset the chessboard. Winning isn't everything, he thought.

That was now. This is then... 

Glenn played chess in the park every weekday morning. He'd started playing as little more than something to do. He had retired to Mount Dora and it gave him a chance to be with other human beings, just about the only thing he missed from his work life. He had been in his high school's chess club but he wasn't particularly good even then. He enjoyed games with the younger players who would come to the park. They reminded him of his kids when they were younger. When he was younger. Playing chess in the park gave him a reason to take a walk, talk to people. It was fun.

Glenn had always thought of himself as a bit of a cliché: He'd converted his Bachelor of Arts in American History into a job selling insurance. Marriage. Two kids. House with a big yard. Riding lawn mower. John Deere, like the big tractors on his grandfather's dairy farm. Divorce. Retirement. His kids - Andy and Rebecca - were grown now and had lives of their own. He stayed in touch and would visit when he could but Rebecca lived in Maine, a chef at the Leeward restaurant in Portland and Andy had married a doctor and moved to Australia. He rarely thought about his ex. Kate. It would inevitably lead to a second and a third and probably a fourth (but who's counting?) drink and the next morning lost to nausea and headache, and he'd reached a point in his life where he had fewer and fewer mornings to spare.

Perhaps he was thinking of Kate that day at The Red Dragon. The Red Dragon was one of his favorite places because like a lot of Chinese restaurants he'd known, they had an all you can eat lunch buffet. Perfect for the retiree on a fixed income with a large appetite and a fatal weakness for steamed dumplings. The maitre'd, the cashier, and the cooks were Chinese but being in Florida, most of the wait staff were Cubanos, or so Glenn assumed. Glenn spoke neither Mandarin nor Spanish and when he heard laughter, he suspected the joke was on him.

In the corner of the dining room of The Red Dragon was a wishing well, guarded by - as you might guess - a red terracotta dragon. When the wait staff would leave your check and fortune cookie, they would also leave a penny for the wishing well. More often than not, Glenn would leave the penny on the table after paying his bill. Wishes only encouraged him to buy Powerball tickets and while he won occasionally at chess he had never won at Powerball. He knew the odds and had decided it was probably better to lose at Powerball than be struck by lightning.

Glenn was feeling sorry for himself. He yearned for a life less boring. Most days like this, Glenn was able to assuage his feelings of regret, of roads not taken, by reminding himself of Andy and Rebecca. If that's all I've accomplished, he'd often thought, I should put my life in the Win column. On this particular Thursday, though, he was not feeling like a winner. He suspected the second Island Breeze - a vodka cocktail with pineapple and cranberry juice that Glenn found dangerously delicious - might've had something to do with it. He picked up the credit card receipt and the penny and walked unsteadily to the wishing well. 

He paused and considered the terracotta dragon. What should I wish for? As he stood there, a man walked by and said, "Careful what you wish for!" Glenn startled and looked at the man. He had always felt uncomfortable when strangers spoke to him; Glenn smiled weakly and nodded. The man was wearing a grey suit and a thin black tie. A suit? In this heat? The man looked middle aged but his hair was still thick, jet black, with a noticeable shadow of stubble adding definition to his heroic jawline. His eyes were blue and unblinking. The smile on his face seemed to indicate he'd been kidding when offering his warning about the wishing well. Glenn nodded and smiled back to acknowledge the joke and the man offered a "Good luck!" as he continued on his way. Glenn watched him as he walked over to the maitre'd. He said something to the maitre'd and they shared a laugh - Hey! Check out that loser drunk at the wishing well! - and shook hands before the man left the restaurant.

Glenn looked at the penny in his hand. He took a deep breath. A life less boring, he thought. He closed his eyes and threw the penny in the well. 

Friday morning he brought his chess set down to the park after breakfast, feeling a bit hungover despite the aspirin, three cups of coffee, and the aviator sunglasses struggling in vain to shield his eyes from the lethal morning sun. He set up his table and before too long, a young man with a lot of hair and a teenager's wispy mustache sat down for a game. He wore a tie-dyed t-shirt and swim shorts. He said his name was Roberto. They talked about the weather to start. Glenn admitted he was a bit hungover. Roberto claimed to be drunk on Jesus. Roberto was pretty good and had taken three of his pawns and his Queen's Knight. Glenn put his finger on his Queen's Bishop as he considered his next move. Then he heard the voice.

"Nope." 

He reflexively took his finger off the chess piece. It hadn't been Roberto's thin, reedy tenor. It was more of a rich baritone. 

"Did you… hear that?" Glenn asked.

"Hear what?" Roberto said. 

He looked around. Hearing things, he thought. Maybe you're still drunk. He put his finger on the Bishop again.

"You do not want to do that," the voice said. 

This time, Glenn was certain the voice had come from the chessboard. 

"You do want to win, don't you?" It was the King's Knight. I am still drunk, Glenn thought. He took his finger off the Bishop again.

"Queen to D5. Check. Checkmate in three moves," the King's Knight said.

Glenn hesitated.

"Queen to D5!" the King's Knight insisted.

"I heard you," Glenn muttered.

"I, uh, didn't say anything," Roberto said.

Glenn forced a laugh. "Sorry. Talking to myself. You know what they say. Did I say that out loud? I guess I did."

Roberto nodded, more as a social convention than an acknowledgement of understanding. Glenn could almost feel Roberto's fear that one day he too would be old and senile and not even drunk Jesus would be able to save him.

Glenn moved his Queen to D4. "Check," he said.

Three moves later, the game was over. Glenn had won just as the King's Knight had said he would. Glenn won all four games he played that morning, thanks to the King's Knight's guidance. He awoke the next morning thinking it was all a dream. He generally didn't go to the park on Saturdays - the local Fox affiliate featured "Spooky Saturdays" and he loved the old Hammer films, Peter Cushing and technicolor blood - but he felt like he had to know. He picked up his chess set and headed to the park.

Glenn won the three games he played Saturday morning, or rather, Glenn thought, the King's Knight did. Still, winning felt good. Every time. 

Glenn's winning streak continued on through the next week. Glenn began to feel something he hadn't felt in a long time. Confidence. Thanks to the King's Knight, a life less boring seemed to be a real possibility. He joined the local Planet Fitness. He walked on the treadmill listening to music from his "glory days" in high school. He made plans to swim with sharks on the Gulf Coast with Shark Addicts. They were a highly rated outfit (4.9 stars out of 5.0!) and Glenn thought the name said it all. 

The next Friday, after setting up his table, Glenn noticed the young man he'd played the week before. Roberto? Roberto. He was standing with an older man, a man who looked to be about Glenn's age. He was shorter than Roberto, balding, pencil-thin mustache, heavy set, fashionably dressed. Roberto gestured toward Glenn and the two men walked over to his table.

"Good morning," the older man said.

"Good morning," Glenn answered and to the younger man asked, "Roberto, isn't it?" 

"My son," the older man said. 

Glenn stood. "Very nice to meet you. Your son is a very good player. My name is Glenn." He stuck out his hand but the older man refused to take it.

"My son says you're a cheater. You cheated to beat him last Friday," the older man said.

"Dad!" Roberto said.

"I, uh, I don't know what to say. I mean, you know, I guess I just got lucky, I guess," Glenn said, nervously repeating himself. 

"You guess," the older man said. "You got lucky." He nodded. He smiled a smile that Glenn thought could only be described as menacing. "I taught my son the game. Maybe you and I could play and we'll see just how lucky you are."

"Man, I'm really hating this a-hole," the King's Knight said. "Let's beat his ass."

Glenn agreed. The man was an a-hole and was warming up to the idea of beating his ass. 

"Sure," Glenn said. "Have a seat."

"Let's run The Italian Game on this mook," the King's Knight said.

Glenn stared down at the board.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" the King's Knight said. "This is beginner level stuff. I thought you said you were in your high school chess club? King's pawn to E4."

Glenn made the move. "So… You know my name, what shall I call you?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. I know your name. Glenn Aloysius McLarnon. I'm assuming Aloysius is a family name of some importance. Or that your parents hated you. You got off easy with Glenn. Formerly of Lexington, Massachusetts. Insurance salesman with Liberty Mutual. 30 years clinging desperately to the corporate ladder. I love those Emu commercials, by the way. Divorced. Two grown children. Retired to Mount Dora, Florida. I hope you don't mind me saying, Mr. McLarnon, you've lived a pretty boring life."

Glenn started to rethink the whole beating his ass thing. How - and why - did he know all this stuff about me? Because I beat his son in a game of chess? Glenn felt his heart racing and hoped three days on the treadmill at Planet Fitness would be enough to stave off a heart attack.

"Where are my manners?" the older man said. "Call me Ray."

"He's just trying to throw us off our game, Glenn," the King's Knight said. "So he Googled you. Big deal. So what. Let's do this! King's Bishop C4."

Glenn leaned back in his chair, trying to gather his thoughts. Win or lose he thought he might well be swimming with sharks, only not in the way he'd planned. Glenn nodded to the King's Knight. In that case, might just as well win, Glenn thought. He made his move.

Seven moves later the game was over and Glenn had won again.

Ray nodded and turned to his son, "He's good. What have you got to say?"

Roberto, who had watched the game in glum silence said to Ray, "I'm sorry. For saying you cheated."

"That's okay," Glenn said, barely containing his emotions. Maybe he was going to die but at this moment he'd never felt more alive. "You're pretty good yourself, Ray. I can see where your son got his game."

"In your face, Ray!" the King's Knight exulted.

Ray turned and nodded at a van parked about twenty yards away at the east edge of the park. Two men got out and walked toward them. Even at a distance the two men looked large. Both wore sunglasses and were dressed in polo shirts and cargo shorts. Their hair was sunbleached and neatly trimmed. Glenn noticed the men were wearing socks with their sandals but given their size and general demeanor he doubted anyone had ever mentioned this fashion faux pas. And lived to tell the tale.

As they reached the table, Glenn noted the bluetooth earbuds. They stood between Ray and Roberto and quite literally blotted out the sun. Glenn turned to Ray and said, "Let me guess. Twins?"

"Well," Ray said. "You're not only lucky, you're a good guesser, too."

"Wait. Seriously? They're twins?"

"What have you got, boys?" Ray asked the twins.

"Bupkus, boss," the twin on the left said.

"He's clean. Nothing on him," the twin on the right said.

"We jammed everything up, anyway. Just to be sure," the twin on the left said, turning toward Glenn. Glenn could see himself reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses, surprised by his confident smile and his unblinking gaze.

"If he's getting help it has to be God or the Devil," the twin on the left said.

Ray nodded.

"That's rich," the King's Knight said. "How egotistical do you have to be to think only God can beat you in a game of chess! Not to mention the decided lack of imagination. Hello! A magical talking chess piece never crossed your mind?"

Glenn pressed his luck. "I doubt the Devil himself would be able to beat you, Ray."

Ray laughed. He pointed at Glenn and turned to the twins. "You see this guy?" He looked back at Glenn. "I like this guy." 

Ray stood and this time he put out his hand. Glenn stood and shook his hand.

"Good game," Ray said, holding onto Glenn's hand. "Maybe you could give my son lessons? I'm happy to pay. $100 an hour sound about right?"

Glenn realized there was only one way to get his hand back. "Yes, of course. Very generous." He smiled and looked at Roberto. "If that's what Roberto wants."

"That's what Roberto wants," Ray said. "How about next Friday?"

"Sounds good," Glenn said, wondering if his passport was still good and whether Ray would follow him all the way to Australia for chess lessons. Ray finally released his hand. "Would you mind if I ask a question?" Glenn asked.

"You just did," Ray said and smiled. "Go ahead."

"Why was… this… so important?" Glenn asked. "I mean, I'm just a retired insurance salesman playing chess in the park." He looked at the twins. "I imagine their hourly rate is well north of the market rate for chess lessons."

"My father and my grandfather were both grand masters. I had… other talents. Which I have used to become quite... successful. As a businessman. But business is just that. Business. I had hoped my son could carry on the family tradition, so to speak. And, I'm a bit old school when it comes to being a father. When he lost his game with you it broke his heart," Ray said.

Roberto sighed. "You're embarrassing me. And it didn't break my heart. Maybe it broke your heart."

Ray smiled. "He's sensitive. Anyway, as I said, I taught him everything he knows about the game and I'm good but not as good as my father but unfortunately Roberto's grandfather passed before Roberto was five-years old." Ray paused and shrugged. "Occupational hazard."

Occupational hazard? Glenn wondered. What does that even mean? How do you get killed playing chess? Wait! Was that a threat?

Anyway... my apologies for accusing you of cheating," Ray said. He looked at the twins. "Let's go, boys. Come on, Roberto."

As they were leaving, Ray turned and called back. "Next Friday!"

Glenn waved. "I'll be here," he said.

"This is all kinds of messed up," the King's Knight said.

"You're telling me?" Glenn asked.

"Yes. I am telling you. Roberto doesn't want to be a chess grandmaster but he's too afraid to tell his father that he's gay and wants to be a fashion designer."

"A bit cliche, don't you think?" Glenn asked.

"He's young and gay. What else would he want to be?"

"A fireman? When were you carved? The 50s? And how do you know all of this, anyway?" Glenn asked.

"I'm a magical chess piece, remember? The reason you've been winning all these games? The reason you think you can hang with El Tiburon?"

"El Tiburon? Wait. Ray is El Tiburon?" Glenn asked. Ray Reyes, aka El Tiburon, supposedly ran central Florida's drug trade, managing an illicit portfolio that also included guns, prostitution and of course, politicians.  

"Well, you wanted to swim with sharks," the King's Knight said and chuckled. "I guess it's true. You should be careful what you wish for."

Glenn tried to reset the board but his hands were shaking so badly he had to stop. He took a deep breath. Then another. The nausea and headache had returned. He had decided he might as well pack up when he noticed the man standing at his table as if he had appeared out of thin air.

Glenn recognized him as the man from The Red Dragon, though it was hard not to; he was wearing the same grey suit and thin black tie. "Care for a game?" he asked.

"The Red Dragon?" Glenn asked. The man nodded. Glenn nodded. "I'm sorry but I was just about to pack up and call it a day."

"Enough excitement for one day?" the man in the grey suit said. "Chess in the park can be so… exciting. Perhaps too... exciting?"

"Come on, Glenn! Get back on the horse! Let's give this guy a game he'll never forget," the King's Knight said. "Hey! See what I did there? Get back on the horse?"

"Are you a cop?" Glenn asked. "FBI?" Glenn had just been playing with El Tiburon, after all, a mob boss famous enough that even Glenn knew who he was. They'd probably been watching him since the game with Roberto.

The man laughed. "Oh, the suit? I get that a lot. No, I'm not a cop. Or FBI. Or a law enforcement officer of any other kind. I'm… Complicated."

"Complicated? Ooh! I'm complicated. Seriously? Come on, Glenn. Let's kick his ass," the King's Knight said.

"Have a seat," Glenn said, trying to steady his hands as he reset the board. "My name's Glenn."

"Nice to meet you, Glenn. My name is Chance," he said as he sat down. "Say, would you like to make this... interesting?"

"Interesting?" Glenn said.

"Glenn, Glenn, Glenn!" the King's Knight exclaimed. "Baby needs a new pair of horseshoes! You saw what I did there again, didn't you? Horse. Shoes."

Chance reached into his pocket.

"Oh! I don't play for money," Glenn said as Chance placed the penny on the table next to the board.

"A penny?" the King's Knight asked dismissively. "It better be an 1856 in mint condition."

"A penny?" Glenn asked.

Chance picked up the King's Knight and tilted his head as he looked closely at it. "This is the penny that changed your life, Glenn," Chance said. He put the King's Knight back on the board and pushed the penny closer to Glenn. "Would you like it back?"

Glenn pushed the penny toward Chance. "I said, I don't play for money."

Chance shrugged and picked up the penny. "Have it your way but know that this is a limited time offer." Chance paused, then put the penny back in his pocket.

They played for well over an hour and the last fifteen minutes had featured the most colorful language Glenn had heard in his life as the King's Knight offered up obscenities that would've made a sailor blush as Chance countered every move. 

"Shall we call it a draw, Glenn?" Chance offered.

Glenn nodded, his heart pounding, his mind racing. "Great game, Chance. A draw it is."

The two men stood and shook hands.

"We should do it again, some time," Chance said. "Well. Have an… exciting day, Glenn." He turned to go. Glenn looked down at the board.

"I'm as mystified as you are," the King's Knight said. Glenn looked up and Chance was gone, as unexpectedly as he had appeared in the first place.

Friday came and Glenn went to the park and set up his table. He hadn't been there more than ten minutes before Roberto arrived, accompanied by the twins. Roberto sat down at the table while the twins remained standing a few feet away, their reflective sunglass lenses scanning the park. The only difference in their attire, Glenn noted, was the running shoes that had replaced the socks and sandals. Maybe somebody had been brave enough to tell them.

"Tell the kid to blink twice if he's here against his will," the King's Knight said. Glenn smiled.

"Something funny?" Roberto asked.

Glenn glanced at the twins. "No. Probably not."

It happened all at once; a slow-motion blur of noise and light. The sound of a racing engine and squealing tires. Then the rapid pop-pop-pop-pop, pop-pop-pop-pop. Voices yelling, screaming. A swirl of colors as people in the park ran about, not sure where to run to for cover. One of the twins grabbed Roberto and pulled him to the ground. The other was kneeling, using the bushes as cover, aiming his gun at the road that ran by the park. He fired three shots and each one sounded like a bomb going off.

And then, just as suddenly, it was quiet. Then a murmur of voices and someone shouting to "Call 911!" The twin that had covered Roberto picked him up and turned to Glenn. "Today's lesson's over," he said and without another word, the twins hustled Roberto away. 

Occupational hazard, Glenn thought.

"I'd get the hell out of here before the police arrived if I was you," the King's Knight observed.

Glenn did.

The story played out on the news over the following days. The shooting in the park brought out the concerned mayor of Mount Dora, the concerned chief of police, the concerned parents whose children played in the park, tearfully interviewed by the local TV news personalities. Miraculously, no on had been shot. A concerned Ray Reynoso, with an obviously shaken Roberto, looked directly into the camera and promised he would do everything in his power to assist the police in bringing these nefarious criminals to justice. That was followed by the discovery of three dead bodies; gunsels, as the black and white era of pulp crime fiction would've referred to them. As the chief of police noted on the 5:00pm news, their rap sheets were littered with charges of assault, battery, menacing, and destruction of property. Motive still to be determined but anything involving El Tiburon had an obvious subtext to it. A day of quiet followed and then the story disappeared in the gathering winds of a tropical storm that local meteorologists were keeping their eyes on.

Skies cleared by the following Friday and Glenn decided it was time to return to the park for a game. 

When he got to the park he saw the man in the grey suit with the thin black tie - Chance - already sitting at the table where he usually set up his board. 

"Good morning," Glenn said.

Chance stood. "Good morning. I was wondering when you'd come back. If you'd come back. I mean… Crazy, right?"

"Yeah," Glenn said. "I mean, it's America but you never think something like that is going to happen to you."

Chance nodded. "Of course, playing chess with Roberto Reyes has to change the odds of that, you know, happening to you."

"I… Roberto?" Glenn had somehow managed to avoid becoming a character in the park shooting narrative. Ray Reyes had claimed his straight-A student son Roberto was in the park jogging, with his personal trainers, just being an all American boy, when the shooting took place. Glenn hadn't really seen anything, anyway, and was happy to remain uncredited.

Chance nodded. "Ah. I get it." He leaned in, smiled and said, "We were never here." He laughed at his own joke. "Care to give me a rematch?"

"Sure, of course," Glenn said.

The two men sat down and Glenn set up the board. 

"Not this guy, again," the King's Knight said. "You make me wait two weeks for a game and this is what I get out of the box? All right. Whatever. Gotta dig deep. I want this. Yeah. Let's take this guy down!"

Chance reached into his pocket and put the penny on the table. "I wonder if you might change your mind about the table stakes?"

"A penny," Glenn said.

"Yes," Chance said.

"From the wishing well at The Red Dragon," Glenn said.

"Yes," Chance said.

"Look, I don't know what you're up to, but I don't know how you can be sure that is the exact same penny that I threw into the wishing well," Glenn said.

Chance looked down at the chess board, directly at the King's Knight. "After everything that's happened, he still doesn't believe in magic."

"He's been a terrible disappointment. I mean, I don't know how many times I had to - Hey!" the King's Knight said. "I knew it! I mean, clearly I didn't know but I should've known. That's why I couldn't beat you! You could hear me, too!"

Glenn reached his hand out for the penny then drew it back.

"How has it been, living a life less boring?" Chance asked.

"Other than you and the tiny lead hummingbirds, it's been great!" the King's Knight said.

"I was asking Glenn," Chance said.

"Oh. Right," the King's Knight said. "Sorry, Glenn."

"So," Glenn said. "That's the penny that changed my life."

"Yes," Chance said.

"And if I win the game, I win the penny, I get my old, boring life back?" Glenn said.

"Yes," Chance said.

"And if I don't win?" Glenn asked.

"You see the man in the bucket hat, sunglasses, retro sideburns, dark short-sleeved shirt and baggy shorts sitting at the table across the green, talking on his phone?"

"Yeah," Glenn said.

"He's a cop," Chance said. "He's already taken some pictures of you. You'd be surprised how much soft surveillance there is here and around the park. I'll cut to the chase. If you don't get the penny back, you will continue to live your new, less boring life."

"Oh, man," the King's Knight muttered. "Prison chess is the worst. You would not believe the places I have been. Those are not legal moves in any game."

Glenn looked at the King's Knight, confused and a little disgusted. "What?" he asked.

"Sorry," the King's Knight said. "Let's just say I've seen this movie before and it always ends badly."

Glenn looked back at Chance. "What if I just take the penny?"

"What if you do?" Chance asked in return.

Glenn looked down at the penny. He reached out and this time he picked it up, held it close to his face. It's just a penny, Glenn thought. 

He looked up and Chance was gone.

He scanned the park. He stood and looked around but the man in the grey suit with the thin black tie was gone. He sat down again. "This is not happening," he said. "Whatever this is, it is not happening." He picked up the King's Knight. "Nothing to say for yourself?"

"Excuse me? Care for a game?"

Glenn looked up and saw the young man. He had a lot of hair and a teenager's wispy mustache. He wore a tie-dyed t-shirt and swim shorts. 

"Yeah, okay," Glenn said. "My name is Glenn."

The young man said his name was Roberto and sat down.