You Shouldn't Say That

OPENING SCENE - Introduces antagonist, setting, tone, and a foreshadows the primary conflict

Chapter 1: Did She Say…?  

“There’s a statue of my pussy in Paris.” 

On the TV screen, ViVi took a hit off her hand rolled cigarette. She lounged on an antique wooden chair with lavender and gold fleur-de-lis upholstery in a room flooded with indirect afternoon sunlight. The tall framed French windows behind her had been flung open to frame an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower. 

Her silver hair gleamed, swinging back with her movement and brushing the tops of her shoulders. She turned her head to the left and exhaled a long stream of blue gray smoke before turning back to face the camera. 

“The first one of you to find it will inherit $4M. The rest of you get $150k each.” 

She gave a wicked smile and a wink, eyes glinting with mischief, then she leaned towards the camera and her face grew larger, the green in her eyes clearer, as she pressed a button. The screen went dark. 

It was hard to believe someone that daring was dead. How could she be gone when she had just said “pussy” in the reading of her will? A person shouldn’t say a sentence like that and then die. It was rude — not the word, but the fact that it was so unfinished. 

ViVi was striking in the video, in a tailored black silk blazer over a black camisole that exposed her delicate collarbones. A platinum serpent necklace coiled around her neck, with small diamonds glittering over its body and eyes of flashing blood red rubies. 

The head of the snake rested on her collarbone as if ready to strike, while the tail trailed down her chest, bisecting an intricate tattoo that covered her hard won mastectomy scars. 

The tattoo was etched in a dramatic band across her chest, peeking up in segments along her plunging neckline - a fine line, full color Japanese style scene of a furious octopus fighting a roaring dragon in the middle of a churning sea. Bright blues and yellows clashed with violent oranges and reds as the creatures locked together in a struggle for their lives. 

The outfit was exactly what she wore at her 75th birthday party, which had required pyrotechnic support and the same level of security as the Oscars.   

Arguably the best moment of the night was when a famous magician made ViVi disappear on stage and then reappear across the room, stepping triumphantly out of her enormous, elaborately decorated silver and pink birthday cake to loud cheers and wolf whistles. 

As lean and muscled at 75 as she’d been at 45, when she stepped out of the cake she’d boldly worn only a pair of lacy panties with sky high heels, and her magnificent chest tattoo was on full display. Her performance of “I Put a Spell on You” brought the guests to their feet. 

Today, the grandchildren were seated in ViVi’s attorney’s office lounge, and this reading was just for them. There were two sets of siblings: Marcus and Mallory, Ellis and Luz. They were the descendants of ViVi’s marriages to two very different men. 

She met her first husband, Kai, during her college years and in the ending stages of an abusive relationship. His gentleness and passion had been like life after death and she plunged into a depth of love that few would ever get to experience. Kai was Japanese and African American, a law student, a savior, an activist, and gone from this world too soon. 

Their son Mackey was only six months old when Kai was killed. 

ViVi was never able to give her heart as fully after Kai’s death. Her second husband, Christos, was a handsome and patient Greek man whom she’d married for stability. Unfortunately for Christos, he’d married ViVi for the kind of all consuming love she’d had for Kai. 

Christos had raised her two year old son Mackey as his own and their daughter Lydia came soon after their wedding day. After their divorce, Christos continued to be a reliable and loving father to both children and grandfather to all of their children. He and ViVi had remained good friends despite all of the ways she’d hurt him. All of the damage she’d done. 

In the back of the room, sitting on a mahogany leather chair, Mallory, Lydia’s daughter, glanced longingly at the bar as she finished her first martini. 

ViVi had arranged to have that bar fully stocked with top shelf liquor and buckets of champagne bracketing both ends. There was also a catering table laden with enough food to feed a family of five for a week. 

I deserve another drink after a shock like that, she thought. Damn, ViVi. 

ViVi had never been a typical grandmother; they had always just called her by her name. Never any version of “grandma”. The twist she had just revealed was on brand for the spicy matriarch, as was having an overabundance of food and liquor for five people at 11am on a Thursday. 

Mallory considered whether the others would judge her if she got up and got another drink. No one else was drinking, and she was conscious of how her brother and cousins viewed her. She had dressed carefully in all beige, cashmere, and silk and wool, with burgundy alligator print kitten heels and a matching tote. 

Her sleek red bob had not a hair out of place, her fair skin was impeccably made up, and the diamonds at her ears and on her wrist matched the one on her left ring finger. 

Plastic surgery and Pilates had given her the ageless, manicured appearance of the type of well heeled upper-class women who had all started to resemble each other. 

ViVi wouldn’t have arranged all of that if she didn’t want her grandchildren to eat and drink, would she? Mallory reasoned.  She finally gave in to the compulsion and fixed herself another drink.

ViVi’s greatest desire was that her grandkids let go of the things that had held them back and rebuild their relationships with each other. But their traumas and issues went deep, and her attempts to help them in the past hadn’t worked. 

Hate crimes, child abuse, addiction, depression, infidelity…no grandmother could be expected to solve these issues for her grandchildren. And yet ViVi felt that responsibility, and the fact that she wasn’t able to fix it all had weighed heavily on her. She was determined to continue to try, even after her own death. 

ViVi knew that her grandchildren had inherited her competitive spirit, so she hoped that winning something on this scale - and proving themselves as the best grandchild - would push them along towards her goal. 

When they had received their invitations to the will reading, they learned that today would be exclusively for the grandchildren. The invitations had come on thick, creamy cardstock with flowing green and gold patterns surrounding a skeleton wearing a crown. 

ViVi had a theme in mind for each of her inheritors, and her attorney was carrying out her instructions like a party planner. 

Angela, the attorney, was very sure that ViVi was watching from beyond the grave and ready to express her dissatisfaction in some kind of haunting or demonic possession should she not execute the plan. 

But that’s not why Angela was doing it. They shared a sisterhood that transcended death. Angela had children and grandchildren too, and she understood how desperately ViVi had wanted to save her grandchildren. Her friend’s mission had become her mission. 

Angela stood in the back of the room, tall and regal in a soft purple pantsuit with a silky ivory button down blouse underneath. She had recently taken over the firm from her father, who had built it up with carefully selected clientele over the course of his lifetime.  

He would only take the wealthiest clients with values similar to his own. People who cared about family, who took risks and won most of the time, and who gave back to society. And he loved a character like ViVi, someone who would show up regularly in the newspapers and celebrity magazines for causing a stir.

One of his favorite articles had been in one of the gossip magazines after ViVi’s infamous birthday party. 

Shocking Near-Nude Performance by Septuagenarian Millionaire ViVi Regal - Is She Too Old For This?

Someone had captured her as she stepped out of that cake, head and chest up proudly with the same grace and commanding presence as a show horse. The look on her face was radiant, and her arms were elegantly extended upwards as if to accept her rightful crown and place it on her head. One leg extended powerfully back as the other stepped forward, and the muscles in her thigh and calves were strongly defined. 

The article had posted a poll asking for a response to the question in th headline, and the response came back resoundingly in ViVi’s favor. He had cut out that article and placed it on Angela’s desk with a note: Who else should we be representing from the party?

Angela was looking at these adults who she had watched grow up in ViVi’s shadow. They were each uniquely gifted and uniquely fucked up, and she knew they’d all take this news differently. 

Angela truly believed that part of the reason that they didn’t resolve their issues was that ViVi was always there to be their umbrella. What would they do now?

How would they respond?