I give him a good, long, squinted side-eye. I’m on to him. “So you can distract me and try to win? Nah. I know your game.”
“Really, Mags? We’re friends, not fuck buddies. How many times have you come in here and listened to me unload all my shit on you?”
He’s speaking the truth. Rhodes is ... well, he’s a friend. Probably the only male friend I have, other than Mount, who I don’t really count because he’s not exactlyfriendly.But Rhodes and I go back a ways, and he’s never done anything but shoot straight with me. He’s also never tried to fuck me. He gets big points for that.
I remember asking him the third night we played,“You never make a move on me. You’re not into women?”
He looked me in the eye and told me,“I can find a woman to fuck anywhere. But a worthy opponent at chess who I actually enjoy playing ... I’m not gonna fuck that up. Not for anything in the world.”
That’s when our friendship really started, and Rhodes hasn’t given me a single reason not to trust him since.
“My shit’s different,” I say.
Part of me wants to tell him my life is spiraling out of control, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m terrified. That’s not the kind of thing Magnolia Marie Maison admits to anyone.Ever.
Rhodes shakes his head. “You’re still human, Mags. In case you forgot. Now, let’s play.”
* * *
“You’re playing like shit,” Rhodes says as he puts me in checkwaytoo soon after we start. “Not that I don’t like to beat your ass, but—no offense—what the hell is wrong with you, Mags?”
I shake my head, like somehow it’s going to help me regain my sanity.Only Moses leaving will do that.Or ...hell, that might just put me over the edge once and for all.
“Nothing. Besides, if there was something wrong with me, you’d just try to fix it because you’re a man. Some shit can’t be fixed.” I make my move, nullifying his position, and nod to him. “See? You’re not going to beat me this time. Everything’s fine.”
Rhodes leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
My eyes dart from the board to him and back. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve gotman problems.” He announces it as if it’s a bona fide diagnosis.
I deny it like the liar I am. “What? No, I fucking don’t.”
Rhodes wags his index finger between us and tsk-tsks. “You’re fucking lying to me right now. I see it. The legendary Magnolia Maison,formerchess prodigy and madam extraordinaire, is tied up in knots over a man.”
“Go fuck yourself, Rhodes. Or play the goddamned game. I’m not talking about it.”
He waits in silence, and I refuse to meet his scrutinizing blue stare.
Instead, I reach for my glass and drain the rest of the whiskey. “Fine. Sit there and wait as long as you want. I’ll get shit-faced and still beat your ass.” I pop out of my chair and march to the sideboard.
“Let the good times roll.” He laughs and shakes his head. “You go right on ahead and get shit-faced. It ain’t going to change the fact that you’ve got someone willing to listen to whatever the fuck is bothering you, and that someone also happens to have a dick, so I just might be able to help you with your problem. Maybe offer some male perspective on the subject.”
I splash a good four fingers of whiskey into the glass and take a swig before I even set the decanter down. Instead, I bring it back to the table with me and set it beside the board.
“You can’t help. It’s impossible.”
“Everything’s impossible until it’s done. Or at least that’s what the poster in my brother’s AA meeting says.”
I know exactly why he says that. It’s a reminder he’s shared some painful shit with me, and I helped him work through it. Because Rhodes and I are friends, even if we only see each other once a month, at most.
“Goddamn it, Rhodes. Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “Because I care. Now talk.”
“Fine. Play and I’ll tell you.”
He nods and makes his move. It’s a good one, but I’m still going to beat him. That is, if I don’t lose it when I tell him about Moses.