Red On The Chessboard

“You can set it on the...yeah, right there.”

Omarr left his satchel to hang on the wall hook, taking even steps away from the front door. He continued into the living room where the voice originated. A familiar face met him immediately with lips soon plastered into a warm grin.

A grin that took on a deeper, more manipulative suggestion as he spied what was laid atop the coffee table she sat in front of. Internally moaning, Omarr’s steps slowed and eventually found himself marginally sinking into a floor cushion. He eyed the game board with a sense of betrayal as his eyes quickly shifted up to meet evenly with his host.

“Charlotte.” Omarr found that her grin never faltered.

“Yes?” Charlotte responded with an unfaltering tone.

Omarr lowered his head and a smile overtook him.

“So this was a trap all along, eh? Brought me all the way out here so you could embarrass me in a game of chess?” A playfully concerned expression contorted his face.

"Calm down,” Charlotte wasted no more time in pouring the Merlot wine that stood stagnant next to the board. “I don’t know how to play either. Buuuut...” the glass on Omarr’s side filled with a crimson liquid, stopping halfway before repeating the gesture to a glass of her own. The glass was carefully slid closer to Omarr, who eyed it’s contents with curiosity.

"I do want to play another little game inside of this one. To help in us getting to know each other better on our first real date. And it’s called...” Omarr’s eyes widened a bit in slight surprise as Charlotte’s form jumped forward slightly, her hands slapping against the wooden table.

“W.M.T.B.T.O.I.O.P.O.T.O.S.T.T.F.S!”

A moment of silence fell over the two before Omarr broke it with a bewildered stare to match. “Um...what’s that stand for?”

“Whoever Manages To Beat The Other In Amount Of Pieces On The Other’s Side Takes The First Swig!” Charlotte clarified nonchalantly.

“Is ‘swig’ even an appropriate term to associate with wine?” Omarr asked in amusement as he picked up one of the chess pieces.

“Depends on the day. Now, I take black. You take white.” Charlotte collected the respective pieces as Omarr did his own.

Just after everything was set, Charlotte set her eyes front in center to meet with his.

“I feel like you’ve done this before...” Omarr remarked as he played with the white knight in the palm of his hand. He was familiar with the names of each piece, but still held ignorance on their respective functions. His dad was to blame for that. How evil it was to teach younger him what they were, but to never actually teach him to...oh wait, that was because he had found himself rage quitting into oblivion not long after and loudly proclaiming that he ’never wanted to play this retched game again’.

His bad.

Charlotte tossed a piece not to far in the air and caught it in the palm of her hands.

“The rules are as follows. One of us asks a question and if the response is no, no one moves. If the answer is yes, the person asking the question gets to move a piece forward. The person with all pieces on their opponent’s side of the board wins. Winner gets to take first drink. As simple as that.”

“Couldn’t we have just used a checkers board for this? I’d imagine it would make this whole thing much, much easier.” Omarr pointed out.

“Oh, dear. C’mon. Chess pieces are much more sexier to play with.” Charlotte reached into her pocket and in a flash revealed a silver quarter. “Heads or tails?”

Sighing in defeat, Omarr gripped his chin and shot his choice.

“Tails.”

The coin was flicked up and came down onto Charlotte’s hand, slamming it with passion down onto the wooden table. After a quick peek, Charlotte smiled knowingly and gradually revealed the coin to her opponent.

“Tails. What a lucky guy.” Charlotte leaned back slightly and opened herself up for potential embarrassment. “Oh and no extremely outlandish or super personal questions. I’m not ready to cry today.”

Ideas were already swarming into Omarr’s head. As his fingers moved on the wood of the coffee table in ponderous dance, he punctuated his made-up mind with a final, loud tap. This was definitely a first for him. He couldn’t wait to too long. So he pulled the next thing that came to mind.

“Have you ever tripped up the stairs before? Honest answer, please.” Omar awaited as Charlotte’s eyes slowly narrowed into slivers.

“Okay, you got me. That would be a yes. Move a piece, jerk.”

Omarr’s failed attempt at disguising a prideful look of accomplishment didn’t fly past Charlotte as her date slid his white knight closer to her side. She drew back in her cushion seat with both hands on the carpet and by her sides.

“Now it’s me...” Charlotte licked her lips playfully.

“So, have you ever shot anyone before?”

Omarr’s heart jumped. Just for a brief second. He refrained from gripping the table tighter and kept lazer-like focus on her never-faltering look. But he wouldn’t give her this one.

“No. Not exactly the trigger and bullet kind of guy, ha ha.”

Omarr’s first lie.

Minutes passed.

“My turn. Hope you’re prepared.” she told Omarr as he blinked. The glass of Merlot was drawn back to his attention once more as he briefly observed the crimson red within it’s reflective confines.

He was thirsty. So maybe winning wasn’t such a bad idea. Omarr returned his focus on his temporary rival and leaned forward, resting two elbows on the table. His eyes narrowed and gave off an confident aura.

“Do your worst.” he dared her. He had never seen a person stretch a grin so wide. It actually terrified him just a bit.

“Have you ever...” Charlotte began. “Have you ever had...a near-death experience?”

Omarr’s mouth hadn’t expected the words. Such a simple thing to ask. And in many cases, would be laughed off with some humorous exaggerated re-telling of a time that their friend convinced them that climbing a rather tall tree to retrieve a ball wedged between two branches was a good idea. Until you had slipped and fallen on your back in a heaving mess, that is.

But too him, the question was much more. Too much of a answer to put out. Too much to rebound swiftly with another quick remark. Because two months ago to this day, he nearly lost his cover and his life.

But what was he to complain? Even through the traumatic pressure of the thought in reliving his own personal nightmare.

It was his job, after all.

He was trained to play the game until he caught the perp he was playing.

“I nearly got hit by a car...thrice. In one day.” Omarr managed to muster up. A relatively acceptable dodge. A bit of a fib, due to it actually being just two vehicles. But she was none the wiser to it.

However, he watched as Charlotte’s gaze became noticeably more vacant. As she moved her black piece forward, her irises remained trained at him deeply, but felt as if they passed through him all at once.

Omarr’s worries were soon cut off by the return of Charlotte’s voice. It was more deeper than before.

“Have you ever had a second near-death experience?” Charlotte’s voice grew deeper as she broke the rules of the game and asked another question before he could. It was a question more desperate in it’s delivery.

And in something else.

She needed him dead.

Omarr had faced moments like this before. But this time around, his sense of timing was off.

Before Omarr could reach his side for his holster, Charlotte’s form blurred fourth in a quick motion. Something silver whipped out of her jacket as the chess pieces flew suspended within the air in a mix of black and white. The red Merlot wine tipped over, now spilt onto the now-empty chess board and some access splotches staining the tan-colored carpeted floor.

Omarr now found himself struggling to keep the once-concealed knife away from his heart as Charlotte hovered over him in an attempt to silence him forever.

“You really thought I was non-the-wiser?” Charlotte began with maddened eyes still trained on him, contrasting the softer gaze she had first met him with. “All the times you trailed me, tried to get more out of me without me having a clue. And it all devolved down into purposely falling into one of my traps. You think I wouldn’t have recognized you? For an undercover detective, that’s pretty pathetic.”

Everything was falling apart. Like jenga pieces, his plan was toppling over without remorse. He had to turn this around. And fast.

“So,” Charlotte continued. “What’s the point in a useless detective other than his dea-”

With a sudden and mighty push powered by the will to live, Omarr grunted as he twisted his body and successfully tossed Charlotte off of him, giving any further action time to breathe. The holster he rushed for earlier was finally reached and a black pistol whipped out from it’s protection.

“Mrs. Charlotte, You’re under arrest under connection to the kidnapping and murder of Dr. Mansfield!” Omarr proclaimed as the his heart rate began to finally even out again. The rhythmic beating was easily felt through his chest as if the marching beat from the drums of victory had made their presence known.

Omarr got to his feet with his hands wrapped around his service pistol. He had it tight in his hands and trained at a now-chuckling Charlotte who twirled the sharp knife in her own hand, glaring at him.

“You’ve made your last move, Detective Omarr. This time you won’t-”

“Annnnnnnd CUT!”

Both Charlotte and Omarr shot their eyes to the side, acknowledging the line of crew members and multiple camera lens trained on their position.

A man in stepped forward and clasped his hands together with an impressed tone of voice to match.

“Beautiful, beautiful improv, Eli and Vanessa! But we’ll have to cut it here. Our time has run on for a bit longer than I planned. Your performances admittedly had me hooked. Good sign, right? Ha, you two take a break. We’ll carry this forward again in another hour or so.”

As everyone readied for another intermission, Eli lowered the dummy gun and tapped the muzzle against the palm of his hand. “It’s kind of funny...” he said. He eyed Vanessa and awaited for an inevitable response.

“What?”

Eli stifled a laugh. “This whole scene is kind of reminiscent of our actual first date, in a strange way.”

Vanessa’s eyes lit up at the memory and immediately cringed, placing a thumb and finger against the bridge of her nose. A smile broke through as the memories came barreling back.

“Ugh...don’t remind me. I’m a better actor now.”

A bout of silence creeped over them both before everything eventually fell upon the half-empty bottle of Merlot wine on the table in front of them. There was no need for any psychology.

“Hey...you know there’s still plenty of wine left. Maybe we should reward ourselves for our hard work? If you know what I mean?”

Eli placed the prop gun on the coffee table and lazily fell back onto the sofa where his co-worker now resided. Titling his head up to the ceiling, he gave off the impression of a ponderer.

But in reality, his mind was made up the moment he hit the couch.

“Eh...just a little wouldn’t hurt.”