Old Vincent’s Will

The courtroom was as stereotypical as it could get. Wooden furniture, wood lined walls with snow white paint and an opulent chandelier hanging from the roof– the only source of light.

It looked less like an institution of justice or order and more like a poorly, or rather cheaply, designed facade of a courtroom within an old mansion in Beverly Hills or, mayhaps, in old London; For, in truth, the only dispensation of disciplinary act that shall ever happen within the room, is of wills and fortunes.

Hardly something that one ought to organize within such a place. Not to mention, the bloody, all powerful, stench of disinfectants and floor cleaners. Certainly, one from a less posh background might not have paid attention to it. But, as it was, the current occupants did.

Now, one would rightfully question, “Why, here, then?”. And to that, there is but one response:

“Public relations and ratings.”

Not to mention, the hawks and vultures, that were the owners and board of control at K&M incorporated; if there was anything that could incite more fear than angering Old Vincent, then it was K&M.

Inspite of such, unfavorable conditions for the Mason's, there was an odd anticipation within the heavy atmosphere of the, rather, depressing room; both figuratively and literally. Amidst its occupants, whispers and conversations flowed with such energy that one could mistake the gathering for a party; and not the reading of a great patriarch's will.

Of course, the occupants- family, all- could be forgiven for such transgressions; their father, or grandfather in some cases, would have done the exact same, albeit with some tact. But, these folk were mere boys and girls, not willing to accept the embrace of the manhood or womanhood that hath bid them heed.

One such individual was Edgar Mason; their patriarch's ‘Favourite’ child. So much so that their father had forgiven his transgressions even when he had lived– the transgression being the nightly ritual of stealing from his father's personal stash.

The stash was not much of a stash, really. It was merely ice cream! Not a big deal, nope, not at all.

His brown eyes surveyed the room, which stank of disinfectants and everything unwelcome. His eyes locked with Eleanora’s pearly blue; his father's favorite granddaughter. The cheeky black haired brat flashed him a smirk, of course, even children were competing in this. He resisted a scowl. It would be hardly appropriate to fall out of favor with her; in case, she became the inheritor.

Although, he doubted she would. No way that Father would choose a mere highschooler over him! He was no fool, after all.

He continued looking and observing. His eyes fell on his older brother, the oldest sibling, shaking hands with the reader. Hah! As if currying favor with him, would land him the business empire! Bumbling fool.

He leaned towards his left, and with a voice quieter than the void of space, he questioned, “Who is that man?”

“The reader?” His sister, Clarence Hastings nee Mason, questioned back.

He nodded, “Of course, you buffon. Who else?”

She rolled her eyes, it seems that tact and manners had, like always, eluded her brother. The man should do himself, and everyone, a favor and just bloody leave. Tis would save a lot of time.

“He's our father's trusted lawyer. A.. right hand man, if you will,” She informed.

“An asian?”

“No, no, no.. not at all. He's a Caucasian.”

“Oh! Really? He looks, very much like a southeastern–” Her brother questioned. By God, how could he be so foolish?!

“Of course, he's a fucking asian! Even his name is Shinzo Yagami, for God's sake!” She nearly shouted. Sometimes, more often than not, she doubted the buffoon even had a speck of her blood!

Her brother sputtered and turned away. Always the inglorious loser.

Edgar grumbled. It was nothing! He could forgive her, of course after she grovelled at his feet once he had inherited the business! They all would grovel, of that, he was sure, He thought to himself, taking great pleasure in the scenes and pictures and fantasies that his mental imagination conjured up for him. A true daydreamer!

Just then, his wandering gaze caught the pleasurable woman's notice; A Miss Lilac Scarlett, if he remembered correctly. She smiled widely at him, a look of glee prancing about her countenance, she waved in greeting and he reciprocated. Well, at least, someone was looking forward to it even more than him and his misbegotten family. Although, her glee and moreover, her presence raised questions.

Why, was most prominent. Even, she had been clueless; he had asked her. Why would he not? Nevertheless, he could already imagine Clarence screaming at him, “You tactless fool!”

Thank God, she hadn't heard of it. Otherwise, God forbid, he would have been caught up in another rant of her's; Lord knows, she has to rant and rave, at least once a day, lest the day turn out too peaceful for her kin.

Nevertheless, foreboding thought's of Clarence removed, the question posed before Miss Scarlett had been valid. She was, as far as he was told, Father's secretary. Why, he would go out of his way and abandon all pretense of professionalism, whom he so loved and appreciated, for a mere secretary?

Preposterously confounding!

A poke.

Ignore it.

Another poke.

Once more, ignored.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

2 pokes, simultaneously.

Ignore him!

More pokes, each more charged than the previous.

Out of sight, out of mind!

More poking.

Out of sight, out of mind!

Once more–

He slapped the offending hand, “The fuck is, wrong with you?!” He whispered furiously.

“What's, wrong with me?! What's wrong with you, dumbass?” The man, his younger brother, Jaime questioned cluelessly; the smirk, which bordered on poorly veiled amusement, was telling, however.

“Well.. nothing's wrong with me. Maybe, uhh, except for your presence here, offending me!”

His eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the lush slick back hair, “Offending and you? Hahaha, nice joke, pal,” He chuckled, “Didn't even know.. haha.. you even knew the meaning of offense,” The man continued laughing. Although, by God's grace, it was a quiet laughter. He hardly had any wish of being made the brunt of a joke, especially, in such a crucial time.

A silence fell upon them, the reader fumbled his way into opening a letter; his father's last wishes before the will? Perhaps, perhaps not.

Suddenly, Jaime, undoubtedly tired of the silence, began confiding in him, or gloating, “You know?” He began.

Edgar interrupted, “No, Jaime, I do not know,”

“Hah Hah, very funny. Well, ignoring that, you know,” He began again and Edgar barely suppressed the urge to interrupt again, “You remember, when Father called me to his room, yeah?”

He sighed, “I believe, he called each one of us, Jaime. Of course, I remember,” With that he rolled his eyes.

Jaime continued, unbothered, “Well, you see when I went to his room, he made me sit down-” Of course, he did, you buffoon, “-He pulled my ear to his mouth, and you know? He whispered to me-” Jaime leaned closer to him whispered conspiratorially, “He said, ‘Son. You are my successor. Lead us well’!”

Edgar laughed. “Hahahaha! Successor?! You?! Fucking hell, God help us all!

“You believe me?! I had told the same to Clarence but she–”

“Laughed you off. Of course, she did. There's no way, a mad cow like you will be getting to be his successor!” Before Jaime could interrupt, he continued, “Because, you know what, he told me the same thing! He even kissed my fucking forehead!”

“Hah, preposterous! A bumbling fool, like you? No way! Absolutely not,” Jaime disputed, offended at even the thought of such a thing.

“Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night, mate.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Sure, pal, we'll see right now.. won't we? Liar.”

God forbid, if he actually became the successor. He had seen the articles, the pictures, the theories and all sorts of analytical essays on him. The man was chummy-chummy with the buggers over at K&M; an insider through and through!

His father, may have gone senile, but he was not foolish to sell his company out to their biggest competitors without a fight! He was sure of it!

Not even senility could achieve this. Certainly, death wouldn't either.

“Everyone! May I have your attention, please!”

As if, enraptured by their Father, himself, all turned towards Mr Yagami. The man fumbled about and handed over 2 letters to his aides.

“Whomsoever, gets the letter, please read it as I recite Vincent Mason's Will!” Mr Yagami announced, by the corner of his eye, he could spot Eleanora getting one.

The other aid, came towards him.

With pleasant surprise and open elation, he began opening the letter. He could feel both Clarence and Jaime leaning inwards on him. Bastards wanted to see, very well.

As soon as the tearing of the two letters resounded across the quiet room. Mr Yagami began:

“My children, grandchildren. And my favorites, Eleanora and Edgar, to you both, I leave a profound image–”

The picture was insulting. Beyond insulting. He could hear her sniffling. Clearly, like him, the poor girl had hardly expected… this.

The picture had his father in a rather, interesting, pose. A cone with two scoops of his favorite, cookies and cream, ice cream in one hand and with his free hand flipping the bird to them. The old man's face was adorned with a massive grin, promising nothing but trouble and menace; his eyes, were similarly covered with overly large black sunglasses.

The very picture of tomfoolery!

“--Both of you, are, doubtlessly, shocked. And that is, very, acceptable. And hilarious. Mostly hilarious. To think, all of you bumbling buffoons had not caught on to the game that I had played. Was this, how foolish, I was thought of? Well, I can forgive that, people really found it hard to appreciate my humor,” Mr Yagami paused, looking in pity at the crying Eleanora, “The 2 seats were never for my favorites, and truthfully I had thought someone would catch on. And whoever did, I commend you! I am, most definitely, truly proud of you!”

“Moving on. Little Eleanora, I am sure that you are currently crying like a poor little gal deprived of her favorite toy! Well, to you, I say, that when I wrote this Will, I had the thought of making you my true heir but, unfortunately, the crime that you had committed was too severe–” Mr Yagami sputtered in shock as he continued to read, “--You had pissed on my best suit, when you were a baby! And, that… that is something, I cannot and will not forgive!”

Eleanora's cries resounded like an orchestra through the silence.

Mr Yagami sighed, clearly taking no enjoyment in this. Finally, after a moment of consideration and to allow the statement to be absorbed by the attendees, he turned towards Edgar.

“And, as for you, Edgar, at one point, before any of my grandchildren were born– you had been, my favorite and I have no shame in uttering the fact that for so long, it had been you, who would succeed me-” Yagami paused for dramatics, “But, you too, have scorned me!”

Scor- scorned?! How?, He thought to himself, stunned by shock. Jaime and Clarence looked at him, critically.

Of course, they would.

Neither wanted to admit that the same could've been said of them; Edgar presented as the best scapegoat for collective admonishment. A thousand blessings be upon their father's kind soul!

“Do not think that I would have forgotten the betrayal! The treachery! Oh, the backstabbing! I still remember it clearly, each bloody day, I would scour through the freezer, each night- they would be gone! My precious! The one thing, I had all the right to enjoy! My bloody ice cream!”

But.. but- but he had forgiven me! He thought to himself in mounting horror.

“And, oh yes, I had said that my benevolence had accepted your apology. But, but, I never had. How could I? You had, simply, committed such a heinous crime!”

Curse that fucking ice cream and curse that fucking moron who conceptualized cookies and cream!, He raved in his head; the looks of thinly veiled amusement were not lost on him.

“Then,” His oldest brother, Alvin spoke up, questioningly prodding Mr Yagami, “Who's- who's the inheritor?”

Mr Yagami’s face crinkled, the well hidden wrinkles around his glasses revealing themselves; somehow, they only served to embolden the graceful nature of the man.

“It is, uhh… a Miss, uhh, where- where is it?..”

“Well?” Eleanora’s mother, Belle Olsen nee Mason, pressed, thoroughly annoyed and even enraged by their Father’s childish, if not, mad behavior! And, how could she not be? To know all one's life that they shall inherit their grandfather's billion dollar fortune, sets one up for expected greatness; a greatness that in actuality was snubbed, for the loving grandfather was too petty.

“Ah yes!” Mr Yagami uttered suddenly, all the ears in the room heightened.

“It is.. a Miss Lilac Scarlett!”