Hidden Wheel. Michael T. Fournier

yet cohesive, an Early Millennial Mosaic. The symphony of voices about and around Barrett provides critical context for her life, her work, and her love in ways which her paintings, in all their beauty, cannot. Where details were not available, I have taken small reconstructive liberties based on the scholarship, both extant and destroyed, of the best and brightest of my peers.

      I hope that I have done justice to Rhonda Barrett, Maxwell Caughin, and the rest.

      L. William Molyneux

      Professor Emeritus, Early Millennial History

      Freedom Springs University

      29 January 2312

      Chapter One

      Lou Schwartz: The best player got the best table, closest to the door. All those nice pastry smells whenever someone came or went.

      Luna Vallejo: The player at the end table had cars driving by, and the canopy didn’t cover it. Some nights it was hard to see through the fog.

      Lewis Brinkman: Parents brought their kids, hoping they had the next Bobby Fischer on their hands.

      Ralph O’Keefe: It was usually me, down the end. I had to play those little shits. I hate kids, did I mention that?

      Lou Schwartz: I used to give Ralph such a hard time. ‘The Demolisher,’ that’s what I called him.

      Luna Vallejo: Ralph was the one who made the kids cry. I think he enjoyed it.

      Lou Schwartz: I used to ask him if he liked taking their ice cream, too.

      Ralph O’Keefe: Schwartz is a prick. You can tell him. I don’t care.

      Sven Gunsen: Movies about chess brought them, one or two a week. Magazine articles, less.

      Lewis Brinkman: I don’t watch TV. I always knew they’d be coming when a chess movie was reviewed in the Times.

      Ralph O’Keefe: Brinkman didn’t have to deal with any of it. None of the fucking kids. He was the best.

      Luna Vallejo: The only one who ever beat Ralph was the girl. And she beat everybody, eventually, using Brinkman’s lessons.

      Lou Schwartz: Ralph was so embarrassed to lose to her.

      Sven Gunsen: I can’t remember a child ever beating one of us until Rhonda came. Of course I felt bad for Ralph. But he was such a sore loser.

      Ralph O’Keefe: An eight-year-old girl beat me at chess. Of course I was mad. It didn’t help that Schwartz was there, making fun of me.

      Lou Schwartz: ‘The Demolished,’ I called him.

      Luna Vallejo: If [O’Keefe] had a sense of humor about it Schwartz would’ve stopped.

      Lou Schwartz: I knew it pissed him off, so I kept at it.

      Ralph O’Keefe: She asked me if I wanted to play again. I was livid.

      Luna Vallejo: Ralph was caught by surprise that first game, so he slowed the pace. I could’ve told her it was coming.

      Sven Gunsen: He didn’t have the natural ability that some of us have. He learned by playing many, many games, rather than having something like we do.

      Lou Schwartz: He didn’t have sight.

      Ralph O’Keefe: I was always good at counting games—bridge, whist. She started her attack on the fifth. So I started playing defensively on the sixth move of the second game.

      Lewis Brinkman: He aligned his pieces into defensive positions early in that game. And the little girl knew what he was doing.

      Lou Schwartz: I laughed so hard: “Is that the Grunfeld Defense, mister?”

      Ralph O’Keefe: I could’ve killed Schwartz. He doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.

      Luna Vallejo: She knew the defense he was using, but couldn’t play through it. No one had ever told her how to attack a defense like that. My game is very strong against defenses. I never had a chance to talk to her about it.

      Stan Barrett: When we played at home, I followed the diagrams as best I could—it was the only way I could compete with her. She looked through the library books I brought home and memorized the position maps.

      Ralph O’Keefe: She was only eight. She got tired.

      Stan Barrett: I never offered her any real competition. I ran from her attacks for as long as I could.

      Ralph O’Keefe: Once she started to lose focus I went after her. I wasn’t going to lose agin.

      Lou Schwartz: What a jerk, beating up on a little girl like that.

      Sven Gunsen: He launched his offensive when her attention waned.

      Lou Schwartz: It was brutal. She cried.

      Stan Barrett: That was the first time she had ever lost.

      Ralph O’Keefe: She wasn’t the first I made cry, I’ll tell you that.

      Lewis Brinkman: When she said she wanted to play again through her tears I knew that we had something.

      * * *

I got lucky honestly if the cop who gave me a ticket had any idea who I was he woulda hauled me in my shit is everywhere sketchbooks full plus the busted Dovestail shows I was just walking down to the Dingo to get a beer when he made me empty my pockets all he found was the marker I played it like I was new that night was two lampposts the guy bought it like I said he wasn’t a graf cop because if he was he would’ve realized my style dragged me in instead of writing me some ticket for eighty-five bucks I paid in cash the next day1. Not that I minded it could’ve been a lot worse some guys go to jail but if it happens walking down to the Dingo it can happen when I’ve got my gasmask bag full of cans probably will only a matter of time starting to get the biz up off the ground old to be tagging anyway a young man’s game so I was like all right next generation I mean everyone knows that even bad press is good if I got arrested it’d probably bump my street cred you know “local man on vandalism charges” noobs would be like whoa dude is legit but they should know anyway if they don’t fuck them. I’m legit. Seriously fucking legit. The thing is that I had all this paint tons of nozzles what a waste to not use them. I could’ve given it away maybe left it down in the ’yard but it didn’t feel right. I’d make the transition except canvas is expensive I can’t get it under my shirt so big it was like what the hell am I gonna do next until this one night I’m out walking around after the Dingo I passed this construction site black tarps ziptied behind a chainlink made me wonder what was hiding I walked around until I found a hole looked in there was a foundation a bunch of trash nothing hiding except a big pile of wood. This is like a quarter of a mile from Dovestail that new corner gas station. The gate was shut but the chain was so loose I could squeeze through I went in dragged two sheets of plywood under the chain one at a time I was like no problem two sheets but the shit is heavy one and bulky two too wide to get a piece under my arm I looked around for a wheelbarrow but couldn’t find one I tried to balance both pieces on my head like I was some third world woman bringing grain back to the village or whatever. I always wondered how they do that. But they were too heavy I had to leave one piece there put one on my head and started walking down neck killing me suffering for my art right around the corner a shopping cart I thought hey this might work I got the one piece in there at an angle it was fine enough room for another I dragged the second piece back and got it in no problem pushed the cart down the street the front left wheel wouldn’t turn it locked at an angle I had to push the cart to the right to make it go straight. The fastest way back to Dovestail was down the main drag but the fog wasn’t that heavy besides it refracts streetlight worried they’d see me with two pieces of plywood in a busted shopping cart they’d be like this guy is shopping at the midnight lumber store bam! slap some big charge on me search