Water Color

1. "Just because your life's shit, doesn't mean your whiskey has to be."

Soundtrack chapter I
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Frank Ocean- Godspeed
Lana Del Rey- National Anthem
Lykke Li- No rest for the Wicked.
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          In Rome, the police motorcade swept the streets from the isolated mountainous villa on the Maldonado vineyard to the St. Lucia Private Cemetery, which only housed the famous spawns of the dynasty. The road was entirely closed for the entire hour that it took to transport all esteemed guests that came to witness the King of the empire himself put one of his heirs into the ground.
It was all over the news. BBC journalists had flown in to cover the spectacle, various business journals and magazines wrote pieces about the day Maldonado Inc. had lost its Golden Child. It was really all anybody on any tv station all over Italy, and Europe alike could talk about.
And It was driving Phillipe Maldonado mad. Somehow he couldn't believe any of it was happening. Grief had kicked in instantly of course. Losing a son can do that to a man. But it was the actual realization of his death that he just couldn't wrap his head around. 
There was only one image of Leonardo that Phillipe kept replaying in his mind; The day his son was born. It was an extremely inconvenient event because Margaret, Phillipe's wife, had no idea she was even pregnant. Unlike her other torturous labor encounters—being split all the way open with Gustavo, and almost losing her life with Alejandro—Leonardo came as a...pleasant surprise. With only two hours in labor, and not even a fraction of the pain she felt with his brothers, he was finally welcomed into the world prematurely at 7 months. He never cried or fussed. He was truly the perfect child. An actual angel. Phillipe remembered holding his soft little head and smelling it deeply. The smell stained and burned in his nose as he tried to shake the memory from his head once more. What a terrible life this was. What a terrible thing to happen to such a sweet boy.
    Margaret put her small hand on his knee and they looked at each other in mutual grief. Although her hand was covered in black silk gloves, it was easy to see them shaking against him. Her sobbing would never end. She knew that much was true. She could only count herself lucky to even have her husband to go through the pain with her.

The traffic was beginning to slowdown, signaling that they had finally reached the cemetery. With tear stained eyes, Margaret looked out at the fleet of town cars that were in attendance. It was comforting then. And she constantly dreaded the thought of everybody going back to their lives while she remained in this hell by herself.

     They strutted hand in hand into the gates of the private cemetery. Hugging and kissing numerous people who offered their condolences on the way. Umberto, Phillipes youngest brother, walked with them on his other side. He also greeted people throughout the trek.
      "Where are my sons?" Phillipe asked quietly in their native language, guiding his wife to their seats in the front of the aligned black seats at the grave site with a light hand on her back.
Umberto dreaded breaking the news to his brother. But he knew nobody else could. Phillipe was not an understanding man. But his brother knew how to maneuver around him.
      "Alejandro and his friends are already seated." He motioned his head to the group of teens that sat in the second row whilst Alejandro and Umberto's son, Fernando, sat in the front. They were all dressed finely in black. Their heads nailed to the ground as it looked like they were speaking in hushed tones.
Phillipe sighed in relief.
At least he came. He thought to himself. Since the night that Leo died, he was afraid his youngest son Alejandro was blaming himself for it. If Philipe was being totally honest, he also blamed Alejandro when he initially heard what happened. But it wasn't his fault. And the last thing he wanted was to watch his son blame himself for the death of his other son.
     "And Gustavo?"  Phillipe asked about his first born. The one he was most worried about.  Dangerously reckless and selfish, Gustavo was never anywhere for too long. From when he was a child, he had a knack for irritating his father. But as he grew older, his antics became more gross, and not to mention more costly on the family business. He was never someone Phillipe could rely on. But for Christ's sake, it was his brother's funeral. The least he could do is show up.
Umberto shrugged, with a the same frown crossed on his older brother's mouth.