The Mundial Murders

Chapter 1

     The still pool-water encased half of Ernest's body; the other half was burning up in the sun. Her red, one-piece swimsuit pressed against her body, showing up the slight curve she had on her hips, and her rectangular shaped body. Her eyes were closed as the harsh sun made her pale skin red. Ernest's long white hair floated in the pool. At seventeen she noticed that her hair had become white. At first it was just a strand, then more came as her hair grew. Now, at twenty-three she had a full set of luscious white hair.

     "Brochettes are ready, Ernie!" Her dad, Frasier Bourbon called out to her. 

     She opened her eyes, forgetting about the sun, and her eyes stung as they faced the strong rays. She quickly closed her eyes and submerged into the water before swimming out. She walked past the towel distributor. He handed her a warm blue towel and she thanked him for it. Making sure to be kind towards her parents' employees who were berated by silly mistakes. It put a smile to his face which made her smile. Little things could mean so much for people. 

     Ernest sat down across from her mom, Colette Bourbon who was reading a newspaper. A fifty-one-year-old woman had to continue buying items that made her comfortable. Reading news stories on her phone was confusing and she would repeat to Ernest after she would attempt to show her trustworthy news, "They can tell you anything and you kids believe it without uncertainty. I'll stick to the real, unaltered news." Her brows furrowed giving her wrinkles that only showed with emotions. Colette would then grab the phone from her daughter and stick in her breast before going back to reprimanding her about her life choices.

     "What are you working on now? How are you making money?" Colette asked, glaring at her daughter through the newspaper. 

     Ernest rolled her eyes, already knowing what was to ensue. "I'm writing a story about the strays. More dogs and a lot more cats in the streets. We need to do something about it."

     "Just shoot them dead."

     "Thank you, mom, a great help like always," Ernest crossed her arms and laid back into her chair. Of course, her mom would rather rid anything that became a pest and a nuisance than help solve the actual problem. 

     Frasier placed the brochettes down on the table and sat down. "Dig in! This took mom and I the whole day to make." He already grabbed the tongs and began to serve himself the brochette, sausages, tabbouleh, and fruit salad. Taking credit for something the chefs did, and he only cut the fruit and cooked the sausages was typical of him. Ernest kept her mouth shut about the obvious and served herself the food. 

     "I have something for you," Colette told Ernest, delighted. Picking up her Dior bag, she retrieved a white envelope. It was fat and heavy, Ernest suspiciously thought as she grabbed it and began to open it. Inside was a fat stack of one-hundred-dollar bills. Erenest opened her mouth, shocked to see so much money in her hands. Before she could say anything, Colette interrupted, "You're behind on rent and close to being evicted. Take the money! Your dad and I want to make sure you have a place to live in." She began to chuckle, "God forbid you come crawling back home... But, if you, that's fine of course!" 

     Ernest's eye twitched and she placed the cash back into the envelope, "Who the fuck told you I was struggling?!" It was embarrassing for her to admit that she was on the brink of becoming broke. Growing up rich, with everything she wanted, with parents that made millions of dollars every year, it was shaming to ask for help. Not that she wanted it. She always detested having so much money and wanted to use it to help others. Ernest engraved this in her mind: go to college and choose journalism. Begin her own business with her own newspaper website that focused on real issues. She wanted to have success of course, not wanting to end up homeless, but her only wish was for her website to make a good amount of money. Not in the millions.