Chapter #4The Bequest by: Unknown You press the button and watch as the video screen flashes to life. You're almost alone in the chapel, the only other person your grandfather's lawyer. You have never met Ms Jordan before, and were surprised someone so young and stunningly beautiful had handled the case. Still, you never met any of the other people that had attended the funeral, either. Your grandfather had abandoned your family long ago to live out in a luxury condo in the sun when he suddenly became extraordinarily wealthy, and you are the only person he kept in contact with. When you heard he'd died, you immediately flew out. You're on spring break from university anyway, a young 21-year-old looking to have some fun.
"Your grandfather was an interesting man," Ms Jordan comments. You turn to her and nod.
"He was, yeah. A good man, too."
"Oh, I don't know about that." She grins mischievously. "He did know you cared about him, though, even before he made his fortune. Which is why he's left you this. His most prized possession."
She holds out a box to you. It's faded, marked only "costume set". You raise an eyebrow. So far you've sat as people you don't know or recognize have been given more money than they clearly need. Your grandfather seemed to mingle with the rich folks who keep mansions along the coast, and you've watched as businessmen with buxom blonde trophy wives and spoiled heiresses have been given small fortunes. Nobody seems to know where your grandfather got the money, and nobody seems to care. As soon as they got their share, the wealthy elite just gave a smug, satisfied grin and left.
"What is it?" you ask, taking the box.
"I suspect his recording will explain that," Ms Jordan replies. "It's the last item I have to give. Oh, and before I go, your grandfather's will also made a small provision for you to stay at the Plaza Hotel, down the road, for a week. He thought you might want to enjoy spring break."
You look up. "What? How did he know he was going to die during spring..."
Ms Jordan smiles. "Your grandfather was full of surprises. Don't be distracted by what he gave the others. He left the best for you."
"I could have done with some money, sure. People probably didn't end up in so much debt after university in his day," you shrug. "But I'd rather have my grandfather around than a handout."
The lawyer nods, and rises. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that. But he's now moved on to his next life, forever. I need to leave. I have a flight leaving for the city in a few hours, and your grandfather was specific that you were to watch the video alone."
You wait until she leaves, and listen as her car pulls away. Then you start the DVD.
"You are the only one in the family who ever showed the slightest bit of interest in me." Your grandfather appears on the screen, far more pale and ill than you remember him. "So I'm giving you the key to whatever you want. Whatever life you want - literally. I've had fun with the toy I've left you: how it came into my possession doesn't matter. It's easy to use. You point it at whoever you choose, fire and... well, you'll see, my boy! You'll see! You've got the suite at the Plaza for a few days. That's enough to test out what it does. The world is at your feet, my boy. Enjoy it."
Your grandfather winks and the screen goes blank. You shake your head, and wonder what he meant.
*****
"Right this way, sir." You follow the attendant as she sashays in her tight suit trousers and step into the luxury suite - a huge, fluffy bed dominating the room in silvers and creams. In front of you glass doors open to a balcony, and a gorgeous, deep blue sea. You can't wait to settle in, check out the bars in town and enjoy the beach. It'll take your mind off your grandfather's death.
Speaking of which... you reach into your pocket and pull out the wooden box, opening it slightly. A black pen, glistening in the daylight, greets you. You shrug, trying to decide why your grandfather values it.
"The bathroom is through here," the attendant says, "and if you need anything you just call reception and ask for Carrie, all right?"
You look up at her. She's dressed in the hotel's gold blazer, her black hair tied up in a neat ponytail. She's a Chinese-American woman in her mid-thirties, small and slender, with large eyes and too much blush on her cheeks. Her name tag reads 'Carrie - Junior Manager'.
"Yes, thank you," you say. She moves toward the door, then pauses, half-waiting for a tip.
You look up, and wonder. Either you could give her a tip and work out what the pen does on your own, or... well, your grandfather said point and fire, right? | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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