Chapter Text
“You don’t think the shirt’s too loud, do you?” Stede Bonnet asks his ex-wife Mary as she pulls their rented car up to the curb at the TV studio. The shirt in question is a bright teal blue with a (relatively) subtle pattern of flowers and birds. It’s paired with an exquisitely textured black silk necktie, which, although he knows he knotted it into a perfect half-windsor at the hotel, Stede is now fiddling with nervously.
“Bit late now, even if it was,” Mary says matter-of-factly. She puts the car in park and reaches across the console to throw her arm around Stede and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Listen, you’ve done everything you can possibly do, you look fabulous - go win some money.”
Stede feels a surge of gratitude and musters a smile. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, Mary.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she says. “I can’t wait to see you onstage.”
Stede wrestles his rolling suitcase out of the trunk, and it clunks onto the sidewalk. A Jeopardy! employee is waiting at a card table to check in the contestants and direct them to their destination. Everyone seems very nice and very nervous. Some are chitchatting, mostly about how early in the morning it is and how much traffic they had to endure on the way. Others are wringing their hands or checking their phones or simply staring off into space. The check-in employee tries to keep spirits up by ending every sentence with an exclamation point. “Welcome to Jeopardy! We’re so excited to have you! Sign your name on the line! You’ll need to turn off your phone when we go inside!”
Once assembled, the group is herded into the building and through winding hallways to the green room. It isn’t actually green, several contestants remark with great originality. A tall, blond woman with an eye patch over her right eye strides into the room with an aura of authority. Her booming voice and practiced patter confirm it.
“Good morning, contestants. I’m Evelyn, the Contestant Coordinator. You’re a lucky group – today you’ll be facing a 9-day champion! Don’t be scared, this is a chance for one of you to make a big splash. There’s always a lot of interest when contestants go on winning streaks, so there are going to be plenty of folks seeing your faces on TV!”
This is not particularly reassuring to Stede, who is suddenly aware, maybe for the first time, that millions of people will be seeing his specific face on their TVs.
Evelyn rolls right on: “Speaking of faces, yours will be looking great as we have our makeup artist extraordinaire, Nancy, and her great team on hand to glam you up. After we sign some paperwork, we’ll start to call you over to the makeup chairs to get you ready for your closeups.”
They sign form after form—tax forms, release forms, and a contract in which they promise not to reveal the outcomes of any games before they air. “Now what it says here is that if you do reveal any information, you forfeit your winnings. That may seem like the worst possible punishment, and I’m not implying anything here but—well, they say murder is a natural cause.” She waits for a beat then lets out a laugh, “I’m just kidding, lighten up! You should see the looks on your faces!” Stede cannot, in fact, lighten up, but he appreciates her efforts.
The contestants fill out index cards with “fun facts” for Alex Trebek to choose from during the contestant interview. Stede is the last to finish his because he struggles to think of any facts about himself that are truly fun; even with a loose definition of “fun,” he can only come up with four. Feeling Evelyn’s eye burning into him, he scribbles something down on line 5, hoping that Alex will take the easy way out and just select the top one. Then it’s off to the makeup chair, where Nancy does her magic and leaves Stede’s face feeling several pounds heavier. Dressed for battle but with time to kill before the taping begins, Stede is ready to get down to the business of sussing out exactly who the 9-day champion might be.
Over in the corner there’s a statuesque woman wearing a stunning red velvet suit. She’s sipping coffee and surveying the room, looking perfectly calm and composed. Stede prides himself on judging people accurately by their appearances; she must be the champion. He balls up his fist and squeezes a couple of times to psych himself up. He’ll go over and talk to her, show her that he won’t be intimidated. He hopes the expression on his face reads as “polite but menacing.”
Better grab a beverage first. He really doesn’t trust himself to handle making a coffee without spills or mistakes, with the way his hands are shaking, so he grabs a Diet Coke off the table, startling himself with the sound as he pops the tab. Eyes on the champ, he starts crossing the room and nearly collides with a man who’s pouring a packet of sugar into his coffee cup. The man pivots easily, not spilling a drop of coffee or grain of sugar, and sets down the empty sugar packet next to a pile of several others on the table.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Stede says, his body intent on continuing his walk, but his eyes stay locked on the man, who is now stirring his incredibly sweet coffee with a little wooden stick. Stede’s gaze travels from the tattooed hand holding the stirrer, up the sleeve of an impeccably tailored black suede sport coat, to a face framed by salt-and pepper curls and a neatly trimmed beard.
“No bother,” the man says, looking at Stede with impossibly big brown eyes. “Hi, I’m Ed.”
Stede almost chokes while attempting to take a suave sip of Diet Coke but recovers enough to say, “Stede. I’m Stede.”
“Nice to meet you, Stede. Have you tried the pastries? They’re great. The one with the orange marmalade filling is the best.” He scoops one up with a napkin and hands it to Stede.
Stede samples it politely, can barely taste the orange, but he is admittedly focused on other things. The woman with the red suit has gone into the bathroom, so he supposes he might as well stay and talk to Ed a while longer. It will build up his confidence for a verbal sparring match with the champ later.
Stede swallows with difficulty and nods to show Ed he appreciates his recommendation. His throat is dry but he doesn’t want to risk the Diet Coke again. “And where—where are you from, Ed?”
“Oh, I live here, but I grew up in Connecticut so that’s what they’ll announce as my hometown. They don’t like it to look like they have too many LA contestants.”
“Ah, we’re practically neighbors! I’m from just up the road in the Bay Area—the East Bay to be exact.” (Neighbors? OK, Stede, it’s at least a 6-hour drive, but nice try.)
Ed nods, not seeming particularly engaged, but also not making any attempt to walk away, so Stede lowers his voice conspiratorially and asks, “Who do you think the 9-day champion is? I wish they’d just tell us, but I think I’ve figured it out.”
This seems to pique Ed’s interest a bit and he leans in. “Oh yeah, who?”
“That woman over there, just coming out of the bathroom? She looks too comfortable to be here for the first time. And I think she chose that red suit for maximum intimidation.”
“Well, it is a beautiful suit,” Ed says. “Are you sure, though? That guy over there looks pretty...champion-y.”
That guy over there looks rather normal to Stede, although he is wearing Crocs for his national TV appearance, which requires a certain level of confidence. Or perhaps they’re lucky footwear that he is now stuck wearing for the 10th game in a row.
Stede’s attention is drawn back to Ed, who is not surveying the room but rather gazing at Stede’s face in a borderline-uncomfortable way. “So, is this the culmination of a lifelong dream, for you?” Ed asks.
“Well, not exactly,” Stede admits. “I’ve just been feeling lately like—" he pauses. “All we have is this one life, you know? And I just felt like I should do more with mine. I auditioned on a whim. But once I made the cut, I suppose I overprepared a bit.”
“Well, congrats, that’s great.”
“And what about you, Ed? Have you been waiting a long time for your chance?”
“Oh, long enough. Too long, maybe. Trivia’s been a big part of my life for a while.”
“Well, you must be—” Stede is interrupted by Evelyn’s voice.
“We’re going to head to the set now and I’ll give you the gameplay orientation. I hope you’ve all had a chance to meet our 9-day champion, Ed.” The room is buzzing but Stede’s hearing suddenly reduces to a high-pitched whine, like in a movie just after a bomb goes off. Ed’s smiling broadly, his lips moving as Stede’s hearing slowly returns.
“—been nice talking to you, Stede. Don’t want to miss the orientation—I’ve heard it a couple times, but the jokes still kill. Good luck today, mate.” He claps Stede on the back as he heads toward the door. It all makes sense now. Ed’s the 9-day champion, of course he’s trying to scope out his competition. He’s clearly a killer. That shoulder touch – he’s trying to throw Stede off his game. It won’t work (it already worked). Stede’s shoulder is burning a little. He windmills his arms a few times, stretches them out front and intertwines his fingers, palms turned out. Yep, just warming up those buzzer fingers.
They walk through a maze of hallways, through some curtains, and onto the Jeopardy! set. Everything looks bigger and brighter than it does on TV, but it's familiar enough to ease Stede’s nerves a little. Evelyn sits them down in the contestant seating section and goes over the rules: Make sure your answer is in the form of a question. Your response can be counted wrong if you mispronounce it. Don’t start pressing your buzzer until Alex finishes reading the clue and the little light comes on. Evelyn demonstrates different acceptable ways to grip the buzzer—one handed, two handed—and some unacceptable ones: “I don’t recommend bashing it against your head. And please don’t fling your arm out toward the other contestants—how do you think I got this?” and she gestures dramatically at her eyepatch. Stede stares. The other contestants chuckle nervously. Ed is cracking up, slapping his knee. Traitor.
They take turns standing at the podiums, ringing in on sample clues with a producer filling in for the host. Ed looks at home up there, his movements easy and graceful. Stede hasn’t quite recovered his equilibrium from nearly tripping on the few steps up to the stage. The buzzer feels different in his hand than the ballpoint pen he had practiced with at home. But he knows the gameboard, and the distinctive white-on-blue lettering, and the little chiming sounds as the dollar values populate the board. With some practice he acclimates to the rhythm of listening to the clue and watching for the lights above the board to illuminate. He even gets in first on some of the practice questions and hears his own voice filling the studio as he says, “What is Barbados?” and “Who was Captain Cook?” He’s looking forward to, hopefully, watching a couple of games before his name is called to play. Maybe one of the other challengers will take care of Ed before Stede even has to face him.
Evelyn appears again to announce the randomly-generated assignments for the first game. “Of course, we’ll have Ed at the returning champion’s podium, and then—” she checks her printed list— “Stede and Jackie!” Stede’s heart sinks from his chest to his stomach, then straight to the floor. He’s in a haze as Evelyn ushers him back to the green room to get mic’d up before the match. Jackie is (of course) the woman in the red velvet suit he’d noticed earlier. She looks entirely unruffled. Ed is smiling and chatting with the microphone guy. Stede is trying not to throw up.
They take their places at the podiums, Stede in the middle between Ed and Jackie. There’s barely a moment to think and then suddenly there’s Alex Trebek, dapper as always in a classic suit and tie, and there’s the Jeopardy! theme music and the announcer’s voice, and there are the Single Jeopardy! categories being revealed:
Nutritional Deficiencies
Marriage
Plants
Directors
Flags of the World
Terrors of the Sea
As soon as the round begins, it’s clear Ed is a force to be reckoned with. He’s hopping all over the board seemingly at random, chasing the Daily Double and confusing Stede and Jackie, who are still just trying to get their bearings. Even on the easier clues, which all three contestants know, Ed always gets in first, his timing on the buzzer perfect as Stede and Jackie frantically click their buttons to no avail.
“Ed.”
“What is lavender?”
“Ed.”
“Who is Taika Waititi?”
“Ed again.”
“What is China?”
When the first commercial break arrives, blessedly, Stede sets down the buzzer and braces both hands on the podium, trying to catch his breath while Alex Trebek fields questions from the studio audience. He and Jackie have barely intruded on Ed’s spree. Jackie got a couple right in the Marriage category, while Stede managed to ring in first only once; then he bungled it by mistaking scurvy for rickets. Although they’ve been warned not to, Stede sneaks a quick glance into the section of the audience reserved for contestants’ family members. He sees Mary. She looks worried.
The taping resumes with the theme music and the sound of audience applause. It’s time for Alex to introduce the contestants.
“First, we have Jackie Jones, a bar owner from Republic, New York. Welcome to the show. You recently traveled to Spain for your honeymoon. Congratulations! And while you were there, you were mistaken for a local?”
“It was the strangest thing. Everywhere we went, people kept asking me if I was Spanish!”
“And are you?”
“No! But my husband Geraldo is, and they just kept trying to talk to him in English.”
“Well, they say travel is the best way to find oneself,” Alex says enigmatically. “Moving on, we have Stede Bonnet, a city employee from Bridgetown, California. Now, it says here that you once French-kissed a horse? Tell us about that. But be careful, this is a family show...”
Oh God. The horse story. He’d written four perfectly normal anecdotes on the contestant information sheet and of course Alex picked the last one, the one he had jotted down in a fit of panic when he couldn’t think of anything else interesting about himself.
“Well,” he stammers, knowing his face is turning red. “It was a dare, more of a prank really, some school friends, they...” Stede, he tells himself. Nothing you can say will make this normal. Just finish with confidence. “Anyway, I kissed a horse!”
Alex is momentarily speechless, but he’s a consummate professional and quickly recovers by putting on a mock-sanctimonious face. “No, the kids aren’t all right. Let’s hope age brought you wisdom, Stede.”
Stede considers slowly sinking to his knees behind the podium and army-crawling off the stage.
“You all know our 9-day champion, Ed Teach, a CPA originally from Bristol, Connecticut. Now, Ed, we’ve heard some interesting stories from you already, but this one just seems dangerous. You got a tattoo while riding on a moving Pride parade float?”
A Pride parade. Ed is expanding on the story, rolling up his sleeve to show the tattoo in question, maybe a rainbow flag of some kind, it’s hard to tell since it was inked while on a moving vehicle. Stede tries desperately to keep his face tv-friendly as Alex wraps up the interview, reminding the audience that Ed and his tattoo might make it to double-digit wins today.
The rest of Single Jeopardy! goes no better for Stede. By virtue of nearly always being the one to select the next clue from the board, Ed easily finds the Daily Double. He wagers $2000 on the clue from Terrors of the Sea.
“This legendary sea-beast was first documented in Scandinavian legend, and throughout history its form has been described as resembling a giant fish, crab, or, most commonly, an octopus.”
Ed barely pauses before answering, “Who is the Kraken?”
“We were expecting ‘What is the kraken,’ but we’ll take that, Ed.”
The audience applauds as Ed’s lead grows. It’s looking like a runaway win for the champion.
During the commercial break between Single and Double Jeopardy!, Evelyn appears with little bottles of water for the contestants. She leans in close to each of them to deliver a pep talk. With Stede’s score currently in the negative, he senses that Evelyn’s goal is to prevent him from giving up completely.
“Hey, Stede! You’re looking great so far!” (That’s a lie.) “It’s still so early and it’s anybody’s game. You know how it works now, just relax, OK? The next round has two Daily Doubles and a whole new set of categories. I think you’re about to catch fire.”
He appreciates her effort, even if he doesn’t believe a word of what she says. Remembering Mary in the audience and his family and friends who will be watching at home, he resolves to put up a fight until the end of the game. He might not win, but there’s no need to embarrass himself. He can at least be...adequate. He sneaks the tiniest of glances to his right at Ed, who is fidgeting with his hands, looking a bit less relaxed than he’s appeared all morning. Ed’s gaze flickers over just in time to catch Stede’s eye and he smiles. Stede whips his head to the other side, feeling color flare into his cheeks. God, it’s hot under these lights.
“Stede, you’ll be selecting first in the Double Jeopardy! round, from these categories:
Table Settings
Lighthouses
The Best Revenge
A Well-Dressed Man
Shakespeare
Potent Potables”
There’s a little murmur from the audience at the reveal of the perennial favorite Potent Potables, but Stede heads straight to safety: first column, first clue. “I’ll take Table Settings for $400, please.”
“This two-pronged utensil is small and delicate, perfect for scooping a French delicacy out of its shell.”
For the first time, Stede is grateful for the etiquette lessons and endless fundraising dinners he had to endure as a child.
“What is an escargot fork?”
And with that, something seems to click. He runs the entire category, speeding through questions about tureens and caviar spoons, and relishing the applause when he completes the run with the $2000 clue. The remaining categories favor him as well. After sitting silently through Table Settings, Ed rejoins the game, poaching the first clue of Lighthouses and quickly finding the first Daily Double. Jackie does well in the Potent Potables category, but Stede regains control of the board thanks to A Well-Dressed Man and fulfills a dream by finding the second Daily Double (his more reckless dream of wagering it all on a True Daily Double—that will have to wait). Ed’s dominance in the first round keeps him in first place, but Stede finds himself in a very plausible second.
Alex displays the Final Jeopardy! category:
Innovations
and it’s time for the contestants to make their wagers.
Stede is glad the category is vague, knowing he should ignore it when making his wager anyway. All that matters is the numbers. He considers the scores:
Ed - $21,717
Stede - $15,100
Jackie - $6,000
Ed’s made the math considerably harder for everyone by wagering a whimsical amount on his second Daily Double. And in first place, his wagering choice is easy: if he gets the clue correct and wagers enough to cover an all-in bet from Stede, he wins. He certainly won’t bet more than he has to. Stede’s hope of winning rests on a scenario in which he gets the clue right but Ed misses. In that case, he’ll need to bet enough to cover the amount Ed’s likely to lose. Stede systematically walks himself through the steps:
If Stede wagers it all (he won’t), his total could be $30,200. Ed needs to wager enough to end up with at least $30,201. Stede tries to do some quick subtraction to figure out Ed’s likely bet. With that settled, he can figure out the optimal bet for himself so that if Ed misses, he can win either way. Plus he needs to make sure that Jackie can’t pass him from third place... The numbers swim in front of him. He thinks he has it, but checking the math, he realizes he’s got a digit wrong. He recalculates again, comes up with $2866 as his optimal bet. He writes it large and legibly on the screen, does the math one more time in his head and—shit. It’s still wrong, he’s off by a thousand—but time is up. He’s locked in.
Stede’s vision blurs. He’s too flustered to think about the possible effects of his calculation error. He has to focus on the clue, which Alex is about to read:
INNOVATIONS
Julius Caesar and Sosigenes of Alexandria devised this innovation in 46 BCE to solve a persistent seasonal problem. Unfortunately, they overcorrected, and their mistake wasn’t fixed until Pope Gregory XIII found a solution in 1582 CE.
Stede’s lost for a moment in the jumble of names and dates while the “Think Music” plays. He tries to filter out the useful pieces of information. He quickly makes a connection between two of the names—they both correspond to...in that case, the question is probably referring to...He makes his best guess and scrawls it onto the screen as the final notes of the song play.
Alex begins with Jackie, whose guess of “What are Roman Numerals?” is ruled incorrect. She’s out of contention, and Stede perks up a little, knowing he’s assured at least second place. Knowing the cameras are focused on him, Stede tries to look confident as his response of “What is a Leap Year?” is revealed.
“Leap year is correct,” Alex says. Stede feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. “Making every fourth year a leap year was an integral part of the Julian calendar, and the Gregorian calendar further refined the system by removing them from years divisible by 100 but adding them back in for years divisible by 400. Some pretty complex calculations. Let’s see what your wagering calculations looked like, Stede. You wagered $2,866, bringing your total up to $17,966. Now it’s all up to our champion.”
Stede lets his eyes drift to the side. Is Ed...slouching a bit? “Ed,” says Alex. “This could be your 10th win. Let’s see your response.” He reads it off Ed’s screen. “What are...Aqueducts? I’m sorry, Ed, as you know, that’s incorrect. Your wager will determine whether we’ll see you again tomorrow or if we have a new champion. You wagered...$8,484, bringing your total down to $13,233. Which means we have a new winner today. Congratulations, Stede. You’ll be our returning champion on Monday’s game.”
Stede feels a surge of elation as his face breaks into a grin. The theme music plays and he knows the closing credits will be scrolling as Alex comes to talk to the players.
He nods toward Stede. “You pulled it off. Not the strongest start, but you knew how to bring it home. And you took down Ed, which was a tall order indeed.”
Ed smiles sheepishly. “I can’t believe I forgot about leap years.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Alex quips. I’m not the best of anyone, Stede thinks. But here we are. And then Evelyn is there, leading him off the stage, gripping his elbow so his suddenly elastic legs don’t fail him on the steps down from the stage.
“Congratulations, Stede! Whatever happens now, you’re a Jeopardy! Champion for the rest of your life,” Evelyn tells him. “Now we actually need to tape a few promos with Alex, so you get a little longer break than usual before your next episode. Grab your suitcase and change into your next outfit, then maybe have a little snack and try to relax.” She throws him a big smile. “I’ll call you back out in about 30 minutes.”
Stede is positively vibrating, his heart hammering in his ears. He finds his suitcase in the row of nearly-identical bags and rolls it into the bathroom. He loosens his tie and leans on the sink for a moment, looking at his reflection. Stede Bonnet, Jeopardy! champion. He tries to take a few deep, calming breaths but the air rushes out of his lungs with a heavy whoosh. Maybe he’ll be able to relax after the next game. Or maybe...he can help things along a bit.
Stede can think of one way to distract himself, a surefire method to clear his mind that he’s relied on for years. The bathroom is private and the green room is empty, with everyone else busy on the stage. His hand creeps over the front of his trousers, just a soft touch to test things out. The slightest feeling of reassurance creeps over him. Yes. He’ll just rub one out quickly, wipe the slate of his mind clean, and emerge confident and ready to fight another day.
He needs to wear these same trousers for the next game. Figuring they’d be mostly hidden behind the podium, he didn’t want to waste suitcase space on multiple pairs. He takes them off and hangs them on the hook at the back of the door, neatly, to prevent wrinkles. The row of tiny buttons on his shirt seems insurmountable to his unsteady hands, so he just tucks his tie between two of the buttons and rolls his shirtfront up under itself, out of harm’s way. He’ll change it after.
Pushing down his briefs, Stede takes himself in hand. He nearly sighs aloud at the sensation of comfort. In a day of constant stress and upheaval, this is something he knows. Closing his eyes so as not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he starts to stroke himself slowly. At first, he just focuses on sensation, banishing all thoughts and keeping a steady rhythm, feeling the blood fill his cock. As he picks up his pace, his mind starts to wander. “Think of sexy trivia,” he tries to tell himself, unable to resist the joke, but instead he thinks of...sexy trivia players? One sexy trivia player, in fact. Salt-and-pepper hair, big brown eyes, chiseled jawline.
“You beat me fair and square, Stede,” 9-time Jeopardy! champion Ed Teach says in Stede’s fantasy. “I tried to intimidate you but you were more than I could handle. Guess I owe you one.” Stede imagines Ed dropping to his knees in front of him. This feels incredibly inappropriate, but it’s also fucking hot. And it’s getting the job done. All worries gone from his mind, Stede tugs himself harder as he imagines Ed’s willing mouth enveloping his cock and—well, that’s it. Before he expects it, his orgasm hits him like a punch to the gut. He presses his other hand against his mouth to muffle any sounds as he spills over his fist with vigor and—oh shit. His shirt has unrolled during his exertions and worked its way down in front of his crotch, in perfect position to acquire a large and sticky stain.
Well, that’s why they tell you to bring extra clothes, he tells himself (it’s not why). As his breathing slows, he notices with satisfaction that his hands are no longer shaky and he does feel quite refreshed. He’ll just roll up the shirt and tuck it back into the suitcase to deal with when he gets home. And that unexpected fantasy—well, he can save processing that for home as well. He’s already thinking about the simple but luxurious-feeling black turtleneck he’ll wear for the next episode as he lightly tugs at the zipper of his suitcase.
But the suitcase doesn’t open. The zipper seems to be stuck, and well-stuck too. Fuck. He had thought it seemed a little dodgy after the airline baggage handlers had their way with it, and maybe he’d been a little rushed and careless as he packed and closed it up this morning. It certainly doesn’t want to budge even a centimeter now. With growing desperation, he tugs, pulls, yanks, pushes, pulls, finesses, and even whispers sweet nothings.
“Please move,” he begs. Not a chance.
Feeling himself start to sweat, he closes his eyes. The suitcase is a lost cause. Evelyn had said there was extra time, but he must have burned up a fair bit of it with his...activities. He’ll have to use his remaining few minutes to try to get his shirt clean enough for a second TV appearance.
Pulling a few paper towels from the machine, he wets them in the sink and starts scrubbing. He can wipe the semen off, of course, but there’s going to be a huge wet spot that doesn’t have time to dry, not to mention some discoloration of the fabric when it finally does. He’s dragging over the wet spot with a dry paper towel now, which doesn’t actually dry anything but does leave a layer of paper fibers clinging to the spot. Stede is practically hyperventilating at this point, and it must be loud because he hears a knock at the door and a soft, “Everything OK in there?”
Shit, fuck, shit. It’s a familiar voice. Stede puts all his concentration into sounding extremely fine and normal. “Yep, all good!” He doesn’t really succeed.
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. Can I help?”
Stede’s first instinct is to go completely silent and hope the voice leaves, but failing that, he squeaks, “Just give me a smidge to tidy up,” although there’s precious little tidying he can do at this point. He tosses the decomposing paper towels into the trash, takes a deep breath, and opens the door just enough to peek his head out.
As he had feared, it’s Ed, whose eyes widen a bit as they meet Stede’s. Stede realizes that he must look at least as bad as he feels.
“Right, I’m coming in,” says Ed, applying just a little pressure to the door. Stede, surprising himself, steps back to let him in.
Ed seems to immediately grasp the whole situation and take it in stride. “OK, a little wardrobe malfunction? No problem. You’ve got extra clothes in there, right?” He gestures at the suitcase.
“I’m afraid not, not at the moment anyway. The zipper’s—ah—out of commission. Look, it’s not what it looks like,” Stede rambles, gesturing at his ruined shirt. “I mean, it’s worse than it looks like. What I mean is, I got nervous and thought I could—ah—relieve some of the tension and—”
Suddenly they hear footsteps approaching and a brisk knock on the bathroom door. “Stede? Hope everything’s going well in there!” It’s Evelyn. “Get yourself freshened up, I’ll be back in five minutes to get you back on stage, OK, Champ?”
Ed stares at him, eyebrows raised, until Stede manages a cheerful “OK!”
As soon as Evelyn’s steps recede, Stede groans, “I’m not a champion, I’m an idiot!” and buries his face in his hands.
“Nope, what we’re not gonna do is ruin the makeup job that Nancy spent so much time on. You gotta take it easy,” says Ed. “Now, do you want to go win a second game or not?”
“That’s a tough question,” murmurs Stede. “But—I think so, probably...”
“Well, pull yourself together, then. First of all, put your pants back on.”
“My pants? They’re—oh shit.” Stede looks down at his bare legs and pulls his pants off the door hook, nearly falling over as he rushes to put them on.
“OK, good,” says Ed, as he takes off his jacket to reveal a tight purple t-shirt underneath.
“Well, now, I don’t see how that’s supposed to—”
“Put it on,” says Ed, handing over the jacket. “Hurry.”
Stede does, and to his relief it covers the stain pretty well.
“Now, just to change up the look a little more...” Ed unknots Stede’s tie and drapes it over his own shoulders, then unbuttons Stede’s top shirt button. “There we go.”
Stede is shaking all over but his breathing has slowed a tiny bit. Ed puts a hand on each of Stede’s shoulders, a heavy, calming pressure. “You’ve got this. Close your eyes and count backwards from forty-seven. Then walk out of this bathroom and go meet Evelyn. I’ll stay here until you’re gone. And you can go win another game.” He winks, so quickly that Stede think he might have imagined it.
Stede closes his eyes and counts exactly as Ed has told him to. By the end of it, his pulse has slowed from “imminent cardiac event” levels to “about to go onstage at a gameshow” levels, which seems to be as much as he can hope for. He walks out of the bathroom, head high, just as Evelyn enters the green room.
“Stede! You’re looking refreshed. Let’s just have Nancy powder your face real quick and we’ll get you onstage again.”
The next thirty minutes are a blur. Stede is set up at the champion’s podium next to two new challengers. The game begins and—it’s effortless. Stede wins on the buzzer every time, the correct responses always on his tongue. When final Jeopardy! rolls around, he’s so far ahead he’s uncatchable, but getting it right adds a bit to his total.
Before he knows it, Evelyn is escorting him back to the green room. “Two-time champion Stede Bonnet! You’re on fire. Shorter break this time, get dressed and I’ll see you in 15. Don’t forget to hydrate!” And she’s gone, striding away purposefully.
Stede’s eyes fall immediately on his suitcase, which is sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that the zipper pull has been pried completely off and is lying on the floor next to the suitcase. In the nearby trashcan, he sees what look to be the mangled remains of a butter knife from the pastry table.
Resting on top of the suitcase is a piece of paper, folded in half with
“You’re mental”
written on the front. He frowns and opens it to read the rest of the message on the inside.
“Prowess is staggering!
[my apologies for the bad grammar – the joke required it]
Go get ‘em, champ.
Ed x
PS Sorry about the zipper, I tried to save it”
A small card slips out. It’s a business card for Edward Teach, CPA. The back of the card has a handwritten message: “Text me when you need help with your taxes. Or before” with Ed’s cell number.
***
Two games later, Stede waits on the curb outside the studio for Mary to bring the car around, his partially dismantled suitcase by his side. He’s in a bit of a daze. Game three went nearly as well as the one before it; Stede had felt the wind at his back as he raced through categories on Interior Design and Corporate Leadership. But in game four, he his ass was unceremoniously handed to him by a naval officer named Badminton. The game had, improbably, featured a category on Tall Ships and one on Racket Sports. Stede knows that the contestant matchups and categories are all determined randomly by a third party, so he can’t be mad, exactly, but he does feel a little...confused. Actually, he is feeling so many emotions at once he can’t separate any of them out. Elated, exhausted, disappointed, embarrassed, proud, grateful. He’s satisfied with his winnings ($77,000) and the fact that he’s missed the cutoff to qualify for the Tournament of Champions (he doesn’t think he could handle the stress of going through this again). But mostly, he’s tired.
Mary pulls up to the curb, throws the car in park and lunges out of the driver’s side door. She practically leaps into Stede’s arms, screaming his name and squeezing his breath out with a hug. “STEDE! You did it! You pulled it off! I don’t know how we’re going to keep this secret until January, it’s too—” She notices the many-times-larger-than-life Jeopardy! poster that adorns the side of the building. “Stay right there,” she orders him and pulls out her phone. “Smile like a champion.” Stede smiles so wide his face hurts.
Driving out of the studio, Mary seems to sense that Stede needs some time to process, so she turns the radio on softly, humming along but otherwise driving in silence. Stede leans his head against the window as the sky darkens. At a stoplight, she turns to Stede, slightly breathless, like she knows she should hold her thoughts in but can’t. “That Ed, though—from your first game? He was...something.” Stede thinks he might laugh, or cry, or both, so he just nods, and closes his eyes like he’s never been more tired in his life. It’s not an act. He’s asleep in seconds.