Dirty Work: Part 2

“A pro . . . yeah, okay. You just a little nigga that got lucky,” the old head griped.

The man subtly passed Kid a fifty-dollar bill. It was money well earned. The old heads always had a hard time with being beaten by a young kid in a wheelchair.

The Kid smiled. He felt like his old self again, playing chess and winning. Resuming his former life, or what was left of it, felt good. If he wasn’t playing chess at the Y a few blocks from his new home, then he was playing video games at home. He was behaving more like a nerdy gamer than a man who killed people, ran drugs, and was at war with a major crime boss.

The Kid had made the YMCA his new hangout. He loved the company and there were some decent chess players there. He still held the title of being unbeaten, though. Playing again got his mind off his troubles, and it helped him heal from his brother’s death.

The Kid sat in front of the chessboard. He was anxious to play again. Quickly, word was spreading through the YMCA that there was a chess prodigy in the place. It felt l

ike St. Nicholas Park in Harlem all over again. The Kid spent hours at the Y, regularly playing chess and chatting. He got to meet new people, and soon found out who was who in the new neighborhood.

“I’ll play with you,” a young girl said, taking a seat opposite him.

“You know how to play?”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I didn’t,” she replied smugly.

“Okay, you have a point. But to give you fair warning, I’m a beast.”

She was unperturbed by his comment.

She was short, petite, and cute with high cheekbones, long lashes, long black hair, dark ebony skin, and brown eyes. Her outfit was simple—a white T-shirt and blue jeans with old Nikes, and it all looked like hand-me-downs.

“You have the honor, since you’re unbeatable so far,” she said.

“No, pretty ladies first,” he replied.

No smile. The girl already seemed focused. She moved her pawn, and Kid moved his. Two more pawns were moved, then a knight by her and a knight by him. Kid moved his queen, and she maneuvered with her bishop. Their game was quick. It looked like they were both on a time limit. In her first five moves, Kid could already see that she could really play. In fact, she was challenging him.

They were prepared for each other. Pieces were being removed from the board and their style of play started to gain notice from other folks lingering nearby. A few people stood around the table watching the match. Finally, someone was giving Kid a run for his money.

Kid took her queen, but it didn’t matter. Both her rooks were fierce, and her bishop was on the attack. They were locked in battle, their eyes fixed on the board and nothing else. She moved her knight, and Kid was taken aback by the move, but he didn’t falter. He came stronger with a move of his own, and his queen was ruling the board.

Fifteen minutes into their match and the board was sparse with pieces—causalities of war. The Kid lost both his knights and his rook, all pawns were gone from both sides, and soon it was over.

The young girl quietly uttered, “Checkmate,” and it was unbelievable. The Kid had finally lost a match. He was stunned. She had trapped him in a strategy called the Blackburne’s mate, a rare method of checkmating.

Kid was in awe. He stared at the board, finally on the losing end, and realized where he went wrong. The girl’s bishop had confined his king’s movement by operating from a distance, while her knight and her other bishop were operating in close range.

The people looking on were stunned too.

“Wow, he lost. He’s actually a mortal,” someone joked about Kid.

“Damn, you’re good. You were able to beat me, which is very rare.”

“You wanna play again?” she asked nonchalantly.

The Kid smiled. “I had enough for today. It’s getting late.”

“What’s the matter, you scared?”

The Kid chuckled. He was never scared. He’d spent six hours at the YMCA. He needed to rest his mind and body.

“Next time, I promise you,” he said.

“Okay, fine with me.”

“What’s your name?”