Carlton was never on time, and he certainly wasn’t today. He steps out of his sports sedan at five minutes past noon and, seeing the two of us already seated outside, impatiently strides over. He has on a horribly colored Hawaiian shirt and shorts that expose way too much of his fleshy legs. 

“A coffee, please. Black,” he says to a passing waitress. And then, with a broad grin to us both, “You two assholes better not have been making plans without me.”

Katie ignores him. He claims the final chair at the table and waves a fat-fingered hand in front of her face. 

“Kate-lyn,” Carlton pushes the word out of his mouth like oil through a strainer. “I’m talking here. Big Bro has something to say.” 

With a porcelain expression she finally turns to face him. Her grip on the cup is rigid. 

“Didn’t think you would make it,” she says coolly. 

“‘Course I would! I made it for Ma. It was only a matter of when for ol’ Pops. Can I get a coffee here?” He tries unsuccessfully to flag down the waitress a second time, then shrugs. “Anyways. Figured it’d be worth staying in town to sort things out.” 

“You mean, get your own cut of the money,” I say. He turns to me with that same grin on his face. 

“Hey, that’s only a part of it, Jackie boy.” He gives my hair a quick tousle, as if he’s some boisterous uncle and isn’t just two years older than me. “We’re talking about our Pops here. Dead! Gone for good! I’m as heartbroken as you two are, I swear.”

He squeezes his face into a mournful expression. Katie turns away to stifle her disgust. She composes herself and brushes off dust from the bundle of papers in front of her. 

“Jack and I talked to the lawyer this morning,” she says. “This here is a copy of Dad’s will.”

Carlton’s act instantly evaporates, and he leans in to take a look. Katie ever so slightly leans away. “Lotta fancy writing in here,” Carlton says. “Where’s the part that matters?”

“All of it matters,” Katie says flatly, “but I assume you’re talking about the money. Dad had his assets pretty diversified, and the lawyer is still trying to figure out the specifics. But for a ballpark estimate… .we’re looking at around nearly two million.” 

His body jerks back, as if hearing that amount has physically punched him in the chest. He licks his lips. “Damn!” he says. “So who gets what?”

“Again, the lawyer will get back to us, but it shouldn’t be complicated.” Katie says. “An even split should work.”

“Hold on one moment.” Carlton holds up his hand. “Just need to make something clear, Kate-lyn. What does the will say?”

She doesn’t respond. “The will doesn’t say anything,” I say. “It says to split it up, quote, ‘however way my children so choose.’”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s Pops for ya. Always making us work for it.”

Katie closes her eyes and opens them. “The way that we’ll choose,” she says, a sharp edge now in her tone, “Is splitting it equally. Dad didn’t play favorites. It’s what he would want us to do.”

“Bullshit.”

The undercurrent of mirth in Carlton’s voice vanishes. The grin is gone too, replaced by a flat, almost searching look. “Pops did play favorites. You just didn’t know.”

“You’re delusional,” Katie says. Carlton ignores her and continues speaking. 

“Here’s what he would want. He’d want me to take most of the money, ‘cause he knew that I’d know what to do with it. It wouldn’t just rot away in some cushy savings account.”

“No.” Katie gives him a hard stare. “That’s ridiculous, and baseless, and not in the will. So it’s not happening.”

He cocks his head, and there’s a dangerous glint in his eye. “Your husband fixed his gambling addiction yet?” 

There’s an ugly silence. My sister finally breaks it, her voice shaking. “Get out of here, Carlton.”

He acts like he doesn’t even hear her, instead turning to me. “And you, Jack. You’ve spoken, what, twenty words since I’ve gotten here? Do you even care about the money? Or is it just another excuse to be your sister’s lapdog?”

“Leave. Now.” Katie’s words are poison. “Don’t you dare show your face at the funeral.” 

He nods. “Yeah. Let her speak for you, Lil’ Bro. Be a good boy and follow the rules.” He rises to his feet just as the waitress arrives with his coffee; he gives the waitress an incredulous look and turns to leave.

“A little faster next time,” he snaps, and a minute later his car screams away down the road.

---

There are three siblings. Their mother has already died. Now their father has just died. Start a story in which the siblings get into a conflict with each other over money. [up to 750 words]

This was fun to write. Yes, it is longer than 750 words, but it’s hard to fit a whole argument in that space…

I really like stories focused around terrible people, because terrible people are interesting; that being said, I rarely write about them. The instructor for my class pointed out that much like real life, we sometimes avoid conflict in writing, and I definitely make this mistake; this exercise was meant as a chance to push ourselves to write about uncomfortable things. I was worried that I made Carlton a little too cartoonish, but the initial feedback I received on his character was promising. There’s something satisfying about relishing your disdain for a very bad, irredeemable individual. And yet, I’m already thinking about how to show his more vulnerable side.

Carlton’s personality is so overwhelming that it was hard to fit in the other two, Katie and Jack. Jack in particular I wasn’t sure how to implement outside of being a narrative device, and Carlton’s comment at the end is a bit of a jab at that, but I think Katie turned out decently. She is kinda just defined by her disgust at her brother though. Again, there’s only so much I can do with so many words :pleading_emoji: