The female, nineteen-year-old chess prodigy strode into the room with an aura of confidence. She had quite a presence. Beautiful, with confidence that bordered on arrogance. Everything about her was the polar opposite of the group of eleven college-aged chess players awaiting her arrival. They wore dark academic clothing and sported haircuts suited for mathematicians. Beth was like a beam of feminine energy cutting through their drab environment. Her clothing was trendy and looked like she could audition for American Bandstand as a background dancer on the enormously popular television show.
Her outfit was daring, particularly given she was the only female present in the private meeting space. She was wearing a cute, patterned skirt with floral greens and blues with a hem at mid-thigh and an off-white buttoned blouse that cinched around her waistline offering a peek of her torso with any slight movement. Her legs were bare, shapely, and proportionately long for her height. Her entrance brought with it the feminine sounds of sensible dark heels clicking on the hardwood flooring. Her hair was short, cut in a style that was common among professional women in Manhattan offices. Her natural, fiery red hair and her inquisitive wide eyes took on the look of an unlikely challenger.
The chess club on the campus of Wentworth Academy was home to a select group of young men. Their private meeting space was off campus above an old furniture store and was used solely for all things dedicated to chess. It was part library with a bookcase full of dog-eared copies of manuscripts that were standard among enthusiasts worldwide. Diagrams and notebook pages were tacked on the walls with hand-scrawled puzzles and challenges for their rivals to solve. A single card table was arranged conspicuously in the center of the room with their premium wooden chess set arranged with precision.
It had been nearly a month since their challenge had been made. It began one rainy afternoon as the boys gathered listening to their idol, Beth Harmon, on a radio talk show. Beth was asked a series of questions about her chess career. The host was reasonably well-prepared and knew the game's essentials. He asked Beth how males reacted to being defeated by a woman. She laughed and explained that her favorite opponents were wealthy college boys who think they've mastered the game because they play within their own campus. I haven't met a college player capable of beating me. She remarked casually. The young men nearly fell off their chairs!
The president of the club, Mitch Ferris could not contain his laughter as he pitched the idea of using her overconfidence against her! Newspaper articles about Miss Harmon sometimes noted her obsessive, somewhat imbalanced behavior. Reports of her public outbursts and struggles with alcohol tainted her reputation and limited her income from endorsements and public appearances. She was, at times, quite the trainwreck. By all accounts, Beth Harmon was a mess financially, broke. The Wentworth Chess Club, on the other hand, had support from wealthy sponsors and raised funds through dinners and live events. As a result, the club had managed to accrue an impressive savings account.
It was an impulsive letter- a product of male testosterone and lots of laughter in the room. Yet, the typewriter clacked away as the boys composed their crude, immature challenge.
"The Chess Club of Wentworth Academy, formally challenge you to a match. Enclosed is a copy of a recent bank statement showing our organization has in excess of $1,000 US dollars in our club's account. These funds shall be wagered in a single match to be played between you and our top player on September 15th at noon at the Wentworth Academy Chess meeting room. This will be a private invitation for you and members of our club only."
"It is my hope that the prize money has enticed you to continue reading, Miss Harmon. However, there is a special clause. A victory for you will earn you the entirety of funds referenced above. Should you lose, and by your estimation there is zero chance this will occur, your loss will be immediately followed with you entertaining the chess club with a tabletop burlesque routine that will end with you fully in the nude. We realize this is an outlandish proposition, and we ask you to pardon our indecent wager, but surely a prodigy of your skill level have nothing to fear as you'll certainly get the last laugh on a room full of college amateurs. Please respond within one week's time to formally accept or decline. (Phone number here) We will assume no response to mean that you lack confidence in your skill and lied publicly on the radio show."
Beth stood in the middle of the room as an envelope full of cash was handed to her for inspection. The thick stack of $20 dollar bills was wide. She counted fifty, crisp bills and felt slightly lightheaded. It was more money than seen in many months. Having counted the prize money, she gave the president of the organization a gentle nod of approval, handed it back and leveled her eyes across the room, scanning for her adversary.
****
The evening Beth returned the chess club's challenge was a surreal moment. Doug covered the mouthpiece and motioned for the crew to gather around. "It's her", he said in an eager hiss. She was speaking, but no one could hear her, except Doug.
"Oh, really?" Doug said in a strangely flirty tone, "You think we should reconsider giving our money away?" The room chuckled. Was it truly her or was someone playing a prank on them?
"Well, Miss Harmon, as much as we appreciate your concern, we spoiled college boys don't scare easily. So, the wager's on if you say so."
The room was dead still. So quiet, in fact, her reply over the telephone was audible. "Then... I accept. See you in two weeks, boys!" she said condescendingly, hanging up.
The room went wild. Whistles and cat calls erupted. But then the young men abruptly realized their wild wager meant that one of them would be facing off with a genius. The odds of beating her were slim.
