WHEN HOLLY MET VIVIAN.

Spoilers

SCENE ONE

Holly walks quickly as the rain slicks the pavement outside, where a line of town cars glisten beneath the low hum of awnings strung with tiny gold lights. Inside, the conversation is posh and velvet-thick, with marble floors reflecting the shimmer of chandeliers, a fireplace murmuring against walls dressed in original Basquiats and Hirsts. Beyond the arched windows, Manhattan blurs behind the glass, giving the ambiance of a city paused. Holly Golightly is having dinner with her wealthy friend Maggy Rockefeller, who is married to an old billionaire and is considered a kind of gold digger in certain social circles.

HOLLY

So, there I am, Mag, walking down Fifth Avenue, when I pass that restaurant. You know, Le Ciel, the one I’ve been begging Paul to take me to for months? The one he said was “too expensive”?

MAG

Yes, I know it. It’s a really fabulous place.

HOLLY

So, I glance through the window, those big glass panes that scream “you can’t afford to breathe our air,” and there’s Paul.

MAG

No! Don’t tell me it’s what I think you’re saying…

HOLLY

Yes, my Paul. In the suit I bought him, Maggy, the pinstriped one that makes him look so charming.

MAG

It can’t be. He dares not! (shaking her head) Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him. Because, honestly, Paul can’t afford to eat there. Besides, he would never cheat on you. He loves you. I see the way he looks at you.

HOLLY

It was him. I’d recognize that suit in a hurricane.

MAG

The scoundrel!

HOLLY

He was sitting at a candlelit table, laughing, all teeth and charm. I saw him clear as day.

Holly is almost in tears. The memories wash over her like a downpour. She thinks about the cage she’s always been running from, that terrible thing called belonging to someone. “I’m like my cat,” she remembers explaining once, “a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us.” Her fingers instinctively reach for her cigarette as she recalls the nightmares, those awful mean reds that strike whenever she feels the walls closing in. Running has become second nature,from Doc in Texas, from anything that threatens to put her in a cage. She only gave Paul a chance because José bailed. But apparently, Paul hasn’t gotten over “2E,” and worse still, he’s always broke, and love can’t cure “broke.”

MAG (dramatically)

That dirty, cheating lowlife! I knew it. I never really liked him. Who was he with? Some floozy?

HOLLY (sipping coffee, grimacing)

Worse. His so-called interior decorator. Remember her? The old rich hag? She’s got her hand on his arm, and he’s leaning in like she’s reciting Shakespeare. I’m standing there, shaking, my world falling apart, and he’s feeding her tiramisu. Tiramisu, Maggy! He told me he hates tiramisu!

MAG

That lowlife pauper! Can we get Sally Tomato’s boys to spruce him up with a proper grooming? They won’t leave any scars…

HOLLY

No, he’s not worth it.

MAG

I’m so sorry, Holly. This is why you should only date rich men. They cheat on you, and then you take them for half their net worth. Next thing you know, you’re traveling all over the world, being fed oysters by some young, toned delicacy (winks) on your payroll.

HOLLY (laughs)

The truth is, I’m tired. Society’s got a funny way of tying a woman’s worth to her choices, doesn’t it? If I set my sights on a wealthy man, dreaming of a life where I’m not scraping by, they slap a label on me,gold digger. They sneer, as if my ambition is a sin, as if wanting stability makes me shallow. But turn around and try to climb the corporate ladder myself? Oh, the world’s not so kind then either. The glass ceiling is made of pure diamond, impossible to break and impossible to see through.

And yet, they’ll sing praises for the woman who marries for love, who chooses her heart over her head, even if it means a life of penny-pinching and prayers for next month’s rent. She’s the saint, the ideal, the one they write stories about, noble in her struggle, pure in her poverty. But let me tell you, there’s nothing romantic about counting coins for bread or lying awake wondering how to keep the lights on. Day after day, it grinds her down, and still, they’ll call her great while she’s drowning in quiet despair. So here I am, caught between their scorn and their fairy tales, wondering why a woman’s only allowed to dream when it costs her everything.

MAG (dramatically)

Fuck that! Fuck all that! We decide what we want! Whether it’s money or love, man or woman, we decide what we do with our lives! It’s our choice.

(Other patrons turn and stare but don’t seem surprised when they see it’s Mag.)

I’ll have a list of the hottest billionaires in New York for you by morning!

(Opens her phone and starts typing furiously.)

HOLLY (laughs)

Language, Maggy. Don’t worry. I have only one man in mind. All I need is two hours of shopping, my sunglasses, and he’ll be mine again.

MAG (smiles encouragingly)

Here, take my card. Only one condition: we go shopping together. Tomorrow. From morning till evening. You’ll be shocked by what these young girls are wearing in Paris now, and I know all the new places. Let’s go!

HOLLY (breathes a sigh of relief)

SCENE TWO

VIVIAN

I love New York.

EDWARD (smiles, touches her hand, and looks lost in the depth of her eyes)

Coming to New York had been her idea, to avoid her past as a working girl. Vivian remembers how her love with Edward started,like a business deal, simple, clean, no strings. But from the moment Edward looked at her, something shifted. Their nights at the hotel turned into long talks, shared laughter, and quiet glances that lingered. He took her to a polo match, bought her gowns that made her feel like royalty, and when he led her into the opera house in that red dress with white gloves, she felt like she was stepping into someone else’s fairy tale. But it was real. Every small kindness, every moment he saw the woman beneath the surface, chipped away at the walls she’d spent years building. She’d never been treated like that, like she mattered. She was happy and in love, in ways she couldn’t explain.

VIVIAN (looking into his eyes)

Thank you.

EDWARD (smiles)

For what?

VIVIAN (obviously lovestruck)

Everything.

At that moment, Edward looks out of the window, shocked. It looks like he’s seen a ghost.

VIVIAN (concerned)

Baby, are you okay?

EDWARD

I’m fine. I thought I saw someone I knew.

Edward had seen Holly. Their love had started so simply: they reached for the same book at that little corner bookstore, and when their hands touched, something clicked. From there, it was a whirlwind,rooftop dinners with city lights glittering below and a violinist playing quietly in the background. One weekend, they got in the car and drove with no destination, just music, laughter, and a diner milkshake with two straws. Then one day, he rented an old theater just to watch her favorite romantic comedy, the film they’d first talked about. It was supposed to be a perfect day, but right before he proposed, she took to her heels and ran. Holly literally ran, saying something about feeling trapped. He visited her repeatedly, knocking on her door, knowing she was inside. She fled to New York, and the last he heard, she was dating some billionaire. Since then, he hadn’t been able to love anyone until he met Vivian.

VIVIAN (concerned)

Eddy, are you sure?

EDWARD

I’m fine. Let’s eat. I’m hungry! (tryin to smile)

SCENE THREE

Holly watches through the window as Edward and Vivian have dinner. She can’t help but notice they’re enjoying vintage champagne. More painful is the way Edward looks at Vivian,that quirky way he used to look at her. She knows she’s in his past. She stands still, her arms limp by her side, tears slipping down her cheeks, blending with the gentle rain on her face.

She hardly notices the valet, too lost in the familiar pain that clings to her heart. This pain is no stranger but a bosom companion. Maybe love isn’t for her; maybe love is just for the movies. She takes a shaky breath, brushes her hair back, and turns to wave down a taxi. Slipping into the backseat, her voice soft but steady, she says,

“Airport, please.”

Moon River plays in the background.

THE END.

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