Page 173 of The Best Shot

That was unusual. This was my table. But here she was, putting the pieces where they belonged like she had been invited.

“That’s my seat,” I said.

She looked up and smiled. “I know. I’m sorry.” She moved to the other side of the table, careful with the pieces. “I was hoping you’d let me sit a while.”

I studied her. Steady hands. Watchful.

“You play?” I asked.

“Badly.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to meet you.” She slid a pawn forward. e4. “I’m Yasmine.”

“Harry.”

“I know.”

I brought out a knight. She took longer than she needed for her reply. Four moves later, I had her knight in my hand.

“You weren’t lying. You do play badly.”

She laughed. “I warned you.”

“Well. It’s good you admit it,” I said. “Then we can start there.”

“I was hoping you’d teach me something,” she said. “Though I may be a lost cause.”

Her bishop came out clumsy, but she was trying.

“You just need practice.”

“Hale says the same thing.”

“Hale?”

The name tugged at me, and in my mind I saw a serious face bent over a chessboard, brow furrowed, hand hovering too long over a chessboard.

“My partner,” she said.

I took her rook without thinking.

“Oh,” I said.

She watched me for a second, then seemed to make a decision. “Can I tell you about him?”

I shrugged.

“He works with his hands,” she said. “Fixes things. Old cars mostly.”

“Good work.”

“Yeah. People trust him with them. They’ll drive a long way just to have him take a look. He’s a storyteller. Keeps a small circle, but they’re solid.”

I took a pawn while she studied the board. That sounded right.

She gave up another one without seeming to notice.