ADJOURNMENT || benny watts x reader

chapter one

You were twelve when you first saw Benny Watts in person. He was tall and lanky, sort of funny looking. He wore nothing but dark denim and khaki greens, always topped off with a worn cowboy hat, just to tie it altogether.

Your first thoughts were that he didn't look like a chess player, he looked more like a rodeo clown. He was sixteen at that time, the beginnings of his, now full, moustache on his upper lip and smugness all over his face—

He'd just beaten Theodore Heckley, the US Open Champion from the previous year, 1955. Heckley was twenty-seven years old.

Benny's win meant that he was up against your father next.

Since you were three, you'd been dragged to your father's chess games. Your mother was so proud, even if she didn't fully understand the game; all she understood was the money in her pockets. Your family name was one that was known, respected, hated—maybe even worshipped—in the chess world—

He was a Grandmaster, one of the best, the brightest, most admired chess players the world had seen since Morphy and Alekhine—

But no one knew who the hell you were, other than your father's daughter.

Your father's daughter, who sits silently next to her mother at all his games—

Your father's daughter, who puts up with having her questions answered for her—

Your father's daughter, who "Doesn't know much about chess, other than that's what her Daddy plays," your mother said to an interviewer, once. You were fourteen then, you were stood next to her—

She was wrong.

But obviously, they didn't know.

Your brain had a funny way of remembering things, especially when it came to chess games. The grid acted like a canvas of sorts, etching moves into different parts of your mind, parts that you'd never forget.

In your head, the pieces had stories. The Knights were noble warriors, sworn to protect King and Queen. The Bishops were prophets, speaking the word of some god out there; whether it was true or not, you didn't know. The pawns were the bait—

There were there to be killed, or, if you were good, they would change the course of the entire kingdom.

You knew almost everything that your father knew about chess—

You'd just never played a game before.

Your father's and Benny's game lasted for six hours before an adjournment was called. You watched as Benny wrote down his next move and handed it to one of the game organisers, who folded it quickly and neatly into an envelope, and stuffed it in his inside pocket.

"Play will resume tomorrow, 0900 hours."

That night, while your mother smoked cigarettes in the parlour with the other wives, you snuck into your father's room. He didn't hear you come in, too lost in thought as he slouched over a chess board, moving pieces around and writing down words on a notepad to his right.

You got closer, until you were behind his chair. You weren't exactly trying to stay hidden, but you hadn't announced yourself either.

You watched as your father moved his King Bishop to E6.

"Queen Knight to E6," You said suddenly. You father practically jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," He said, peering down at you with a mixture of anger and surprise. "You should be in bed,"

"Mum went downstairs," You said, your eyes still plastered on the board. "Queen Knight to E6," You repeated, looking up at your father. "If you lose your second bishop, diagonals aren't allowed."