Page 11 of King of Players

Having showered on autopilot, I stepped out and grabbed a fluffy robe, wrapping it around my body and tying a knot at the waist. My short hair didn’t need brushing, so I walked straight out and picked up my laptop.

Sitting in a chair by the wide window, I launched a search into Kaira Bradley’s world. An expedition of sorts.

Wealthy Philanthropist Passes Away, was the title of the first search result. My eyes skimmed the page, searching for something with Kaira’s name in the headlines. But everything was about her family; namely, her grandmother.

So, I scrolled back up and clicked the link.

The W.F. Bradley Foundation, of which Mrs. Bradley was president, announced the sad news early this morning. In a statement, the Foundation said that Mrs. Bradley had died “surrounded by family and friends.” The foundation also mentioned that her granddaughter, Ms. Kaira Bradley, was to inherit her substantial commitment.

“For more than 30 years, my grandmother faithfully carried on the philanthropic legacy of her family, supporting hundreds of organizations around the world, and reaching thousands of beneficiaries. I vow to continue to do the same, unwavering in my work towards a better world.”

Nodding in admiration, I clicked back to the results page, hunting for my next read. After the first twelve titles or so, I found a little announcement that dated back to three years ago.

Kaira Bradley Wins State Chess Championship, Donates Winnings to Children’s Cancer Hospital

An even older article addressed Kaira as a teenager, volunteering with GreenPeace in Africa for one summer. Of course, all of this coverage was really paying tribute to her grandfather, the businessman. But Kaira didn’t seem to care. All of her quotes reflected nothing but commitment to the causes she sponsored, urging the more fortunate ones to follow in her footsteps.

It was nearly four in the morning when I switched to the video results, landing three recordings of her speeches at different locations and for a variety of causes. Kaira spoke for large and small organizations alike, defending the rights of the voiceless and encouraging those with wealth and power to lend a helping hand.

One of the videos even showed her debate with the president of a famous cosmetics conglomerate, as she completely destroyed him on the topic of animal testing. With a little bit of curiosity, I discovered that the brand had banned all animal testing activities—and sourcing materials from vendors who still practiced it—only six months later.

I couldn’t deny that I was impressed with Kaira’s ability to juggle all those causes, traveling from one country to the next, giving speeches and making donations. Her energy in doing so could have only been matched by mine when I was shooting a film.

When my mind started playing tricks on me, posing the question of ‘and what good did your movies do?’, I quickly defended my profession as one that entertained millions and brought joy to their lives. I wasn’t going to let my most recent obsession with a woman make me question myself.

But then again, the matter of a deeper involvement took the center stage. Before getting dressed, I searched for the address of the W.F. Bradley Foundation.

In my boxer shorts, I laid down in bed and pulled the laptop back onto my chest. As I launched the website, I saw what appeared to be countless lists of activities all over the nation and abroad. The only mention of Kaira was a brief bio on the Board page, accompanied by a small thumbnail of a picture. She was wearing a black shirt, had very little makeup on, and a humble smile on her face.

And that was it.

Kaira was now the face of something I couldn’t understand. Where was she in all of this? Her hobbies, interests, and passions? What did she do when she was alone at night? The kind of friends did she choose? What was her favorite drink? Film? Song?

I wanted to know more than what the internet was willing to give me, and I wasn’t about to sit here and throw my hands in the air.

Folding the laptop shut and putting it away, I turned off the light and rested my head on the soft pillow, trying to picture Kaira alone at home after the party was over.

Would she kick off her heels first the way she had up in that secluded study? Or were her hands reaching for a night cap?

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her listening to music, swaying alone in the middle of the vast room where nearly a hundred people stood just an hour ago.

And then her movements would progress into a dance… a solitary indulgence where she would let go, since nobody was watching.

Did she move softly and gently, similar to the way she presented herself to everyone tonight? Or did her body crave a more vigorous portrayal of freedom?

With the vivid image of Kaira dancing on the insides of my eyelids, I wondered if she had ever been in love before. How reserved she was when she had first met him, and how he got her to relax. If he had belonged to her world, or if she had drawn him in...

God, she was drawing me in.

five

Invasion

Kaira

The morning of the last Monday of each month marked the board meeting at the W.F. Bradley Foundation. Knowing that I was early—habitually the first one to arrive—I left my purse and laptop in the boardroom and went to the bathroom. While I checked my hair and makeup, I heard Tina, my assistant, usher someone in with unusual eagerness.

“Right this way,” her voice echoed. “Would you like something to drink?”

---