Chapter Twenty-One – Kayla #2
A muscle in Bradford’s jaw tenses. “I do not wander the halls looking lost.”
“Ah, so is it the wandering you take issue with, or the looking lost part?”
The look the über gives him could straight up kill. It reminds me of the expression he had glued to his face the very first day we met, when he was beyond suspicious of me and the fact that his father had hired me to spy-slash-babysit him.
Now that same father wants me to try to seduce him. All the more reason not to let my mind wander off too much when it comes to Bradford’s looks.
“I’m just saying,” Hayden goes on, “most people have a life outside of work. Granted, you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future, so your options are pretty limited. If I were you, I’d have stockpiled a bunch of shit to do.”
Bradford heaves the world’s heaviest, biggest sigh before he says, “I may have something stashed away.”
“Ooh.” Hayden rubs his hands together as he sends a wide grin my way. “I wonder what it is. Something fun, I hope. Any guesses, Kayla?”
All I can do is shrug, because I have no idea what he could have stashed away in this house, as he put it.
A short while later, we find out what it is he had hidden away: a chessboard. Yes, that’s right. Out of all of the board games he could possibly have here in this huge house, he only had chess. Needless to say, it’s not a game I ever learned how to play.
We end up in one of the sitting rooms downstairs. Hayden sets up two chairs facing each other with a small end table between them—for the chessboard. A third chair is dragged nearby, for whoever isn’t playing, so they can watch or something.
Talk about boring, but I guess if there’s nothing else to do in this house I can’t complain too much.
Hayden asks me, “Do you want to play the first game with the boss man?”
I shake my head as I take the third seat facing them. Mostly it’s because I don’t know how to play chess—I think I know checkers, but chess is another game entirely. It’s just not something you learn on the streets.
Bradford takes one of the other chairs, leaning back and grunting as he tells him, “Don’t call me that.”
“What? No boss man? Fine, Mr. Bentley, then.” Hayden takes on a silly, old-fashioned tone, like he transformed into an old English butler or something.
“Mr. Bentley is my father.” He glances between us. “Do either of you know how to play chess?”
With a grin, the other man says, “I absolutely, one hundred percent can say with conviction and certainty I do not know how to play chess.” His roundabout way of saying it makes me chuckle, and I hide that chuckle behind a hand.
Bradford is unamused. “A simple no would have sufficed.”
“I still can’t believe this is all you have,” he tells him. “A house this big, and all you have is chess? Seriously, what kind of childhood did you have here, because it seems to me you had the most boring childhood ever.”
“My father never bought anything that was, in his view, pointless. That includes games of all kinds. Chess was different. In a game of chess, it’s all about strategy. Predicting your opponent’s moves and trying to be two steps ahead of them, learning which pawns to sacrifice in order to win.”
Hmm. I think most games are like that to a certain extent, but I can see how someone like Bentley Sr. views chess as a step above the rest. Everything Bradford said makes sense.
“That’s,” Hayden pauses, “kind of a depressing way to look at it.”
The über shrugs, and then lines up the pieces on the board. After everything is on the board in their rightful positions, he names each piece and describes the kinds of movements those pieces can make—only certain pieces can make certain moves.
Honestly? It flies right over my head, even as he says it. In one ear and out the other, just like that. I try to pay attention, because I’d like to play too, but I don’t think I’m cut out for a game like chess. It’s more confusing than anything else.
“Okay,” Hayden says after Bradford explains everything, “I think I got it.”
“You want to have the first move?” the über asks.
Instantly, he’s suspicious. “Why? Should I not have the first move? Is the person who makes the first move usually the one who loses? No, you make the first move.” He leans forward and rubs his chin; apparently that’s his look of concentration.
Sighing, Bradford moves one of the pieces, I think one of the pawns.
Hearing him describe learning to sacrifice pawns made me feel some kind of way.
If I was a piece on that board, that’s what I’d be.
The smallest piece, the one who can hardly move or do anything.
A piece that inevitably gets sacrificed so one of the bigger pieces can sweep the board and win.
Or, you know, however chess works.
Hayden moves one of his own pawns, mimicking the move Bradford made.
It’s how it goes for a while. Anytime the über makes a move, he does the same, but it soon gets to the point where it’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing, because Bradford starts to sweep the board, plucking his pieces off it one by one.
It’s only after Bradford says “Check” that Hayden squints his eyes at the board and finally admits what we all knew.
“I don’t think I know how to play this game. How about we start over?”
“Start over?” Bradford echoes. “Right when I’m about to win? Why can’t you accept the loss like a man?”
“Whoa, are you insinuating I’m less of a man if I don’t lose to you in chess? Maybe you’re less of a man for winning. Ever think of that? Bet you haven’t.” Hayden tosses me a quick glance. “Tell him he’s a loser for winning.”
I say, “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, I see,” he says with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
“You’re on his side, aren’t you? This whole time I thought you were sitting there cheering me on, but instead you were rooting for Bradford to win.
I’m hurt. Really, really hurt. Deep in here.
” He places a hand over his heart as if he has a new injury there.
Bradford frowns. “Shut it and take the loss.”
Hayden leans toward me and shakes his head, and as he flicks a thumb over to the über, he whispers loud enough for both of us to hear, “He thinks he can tell me what to do. Isn’t that rich?”
“I think you’re stalling,” the über says. “I think you don’t want to lose in front of Kayla.”
The accusation causes him to sit rod straight and mock glare at him. “Excuse me? Stalling? Please. I would never. I’m just saying, this game was rigged from the start. I just learned the rules. Let’s start again and it’ll be more fair.”
Bradford grumbles out, “Fine. We’ll start again and see if you’re right.”
The triumph on Hayden’s face doesn’t last. Once the new game is set up on the board, it doesn’t take long at all for him to get his queen into another pickle, and this time he loses faster than he lost the first.
“Checkmate,” Bradford says with a slight twitch of the corners of his mouth. I’m pretty sure he’s actually enjoying this, as weird as it might be. “What excuse do you have this time?”
“Excuse? I don’t have any excuse. You, on the other hand, cheated. Admit it.”
The über blinks. “Cheated? How in the world could I have cheated?”
Hayden looks at me. “You saw it, didn’t you? Tell him he cheated.”
Bradford’s dark eyes swing in my direction. “Tell him you didn’t see anything. I didn’t cheat. Tell him he’s wrong—”
Holding up both hands, Hayden says, “You know, I can’t play with you if you’re going to be like this. A game should be fair, and cheating is just… so… rude. I thought this was a game of skill, not a game where the cheaters come out on top.”
“I did not cheat. You’re just upset you lost again.”
“What do you mean again? We didn’t finish the first game, you can’t count that.”
“Yes, I can. You forfeited, therefore the win automatically goes to me.”
They go back and forth a few times. I sit there and listen to them, fighting the smile that threatens to grow on my face. They might be arguing, but they’re being good sports about it. Neither one is actually upset.
After a while, Hayden throws up his hands. “Whatever, man. I can’t win with you.”
“No,” Bradford says, “you can’t, because you’re terrible at playing chess.”
“It’s a complicated game—”
“No, it’s not.”
Hayden looks at me for backup. “Tell him it’s a complicated game. For the record—” This part is spoken to the über. “—if we were playing Uno, I would have kicked your ass from here to downtown.”
Squinting his gaze, Bradford says, “Uno? What’s that?”
I have to hide my chuckle behind a hand, while Hayden is clearly aghast, saying, “Excuse me? You don’t…
you don’t know what Uno is? How? Why? What’s wrong with you?
I thought everyone who’s alive knows what Uno is.
Are you a robot under there? Is that why you’re always in a suit: you have to hide the wires and blinking lights? ”
“I am not a robot—”
“Prove it.”
“And how, exactly, would you like me to prove it?”
Hayden asks me, “What do you think? How should we have him prove to us he’s not a robot? I’m thinking—here me out—we have him strip and streak through the house. We don’t really need him to run around buck naked, but I bet streaking would be the craziest thing he’s ever done.”
The über scoffs, but I know where his mind is, because my mind is there, too. Bradford might not be aware that I know, but those scars on his back are not something he’s comfortable with sharing. Not with me, definitely not with Hayden, not with anyone. The last thing he would ever do is streak.
“I don’t think he needs to do that,” I say, feeling as if I need to have Bradford’s back—something which apparently neither man expects, because not only does Hayden give me a look that wordlessly asks if I’m crazy, but Bradford also appears surprised.
Hmm. I feel pretty strange beneath both their gazes. I need to think up something to say, something else that’ll lessen the intensity of it all.
“Even if he is a robot,” I go on, “does it really matter?”
“I guess not,” Hayden says. “I still don’t get how he doesn’t know what Uno is, and I can’t believe this is the only game he has in the house.
If I had a house this big, I’d have one of everything.
A freaking game room with a pool table, some of those old-fashioned arcade games, darts.
I’d be loaded up with everything. So much missed potential in this house. ”
Bradford frowns. “I’m sorry to disappoint you so much.”
“See? That sounded awfully robotic.”
The über groans.
Clearly not wanting to play more chess, Hayden says, “There has to be other things we can do in this house. Say, Mr. Robot, I haven’t really seen any TVs. Tell me you have a screen somewhere. Cable, Netflix, anything?”
“There’s one TV in the upstairs living room. I don’t think anything is hooked up to it, but if that’s what you want to do, I can figure something out.”
“One TV. A single TV in this entire house. Aren’t TVs super cheap these days? Why in the hell don’t you have one in every single room?” It’s more than obvious Hayden just doesn’t understand. “Seriously, what do you do at night? I’m morbidly curious now.”
I can tell Bradford is a bit uneasy under his line of fire, and I once again feel the need to defend the man and say, “Not everyone likes to rot their brains, Hayden.”
Hayden brings a finger to the side of his head. “Oh, trust me, this brain is anything but rotted. I have been fine-tuned through my thirty years of life thanks to heaps of TV, movies, and videogames. I’m as sharp as they come—”
“Except when you’re playing chess, apparently,” Bradford harrumphs, causing him to wave his hand like the whole losing-at-chess thing doesn’t really matter.
I shift my weight in the chair. “I wouldn’t mind watching something.
It’s been a long time since I sat down and watched a movie.
” So long, in fact, I can’t remember the newest movie I’ve seen.
Jeremy typically will pick out whatever we watch on the TV in our apartment, and we don’t really get many good channels with the antenna.
Splurging on a streaming service these days means having a credit card.
Hayden claps. “It’s settled. We’ll have a movie day. Much more fun than playing chess. Mr. Robot-man, you have snacks and stuff, right?”
“Snacks… and stuff?” Bradford repeats. “Such as?”
“Stuff you eat when you watch movies, obviously. Popcorn. Candy. Caffeine to fuel the inevitable late-night streaming.” The more he says, the slower he starts to speak. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall here. You don’t have any of that, I’m guessing.”
The look on the über’s face says it all.
“No problem there. Just hand over that card again and I’ll run out and grab everything we could possibly need.” The grin on his face is boyish to the point where it has to be exaggerated, but that’s the thing: it’s not. That’s just Hayden.
It’s what makes it so easy to like him. He makes everything easy.
And Bradford… he doesn’t make things easy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not easy to like him, too. I understand him. I feel for him.
It’s a bad, bad idea to like either of them, let alone both of them, especially when I’m stuck in the house with them for the foreseeable future.
Bradford deadpans, “Are you planning on going shopping in your pajamas as well?” Pajamas meaning sweatpants and a plain shirt.
In reality, there’s nothing wrong with what Hayden is wearing, but to someone like him, someone who was clearly raised against much higher standards, going out in public while wearing sweatpants is probably akin to streaking.
“Tell you what,” Hayden tells him, “I’ll put jeans on, just for you.”
I laugh softly at that. At least these two are entertaining enough to keep my mind off my budding inner omega and her increasingly hard to ignore desires. As long as I don’t get too close to either of them, I should be fine.
I hope.