I never appreciated anything being handed to me. I have a fire in my heart to work but sadly that opportunity never arose, until today.
"Sebastián!"
Aunt Manuela called from downstairs
"Yes?"
No answer..
I slid down the stairs, forgetting Aunt Manuela was deaf in one ear
"Happy birthday Sebastian Marroquín the second!"
My father yelled as I stepped down the final step. As groggy as I was I couldn't not be the most happiest kid on earth, it was my seventeenth birthday; a year before I became a man, and I was expecting a gift handed down to me by my late grandfather. He was the richest of the rich. He worked so hard I never had to, but the fortune was running out.
I am the grandson of Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria, the man who ran the Medellín cartel, and today I was supposed to receive a small loan of 10 million dollars to finish what he started.
My father sat down beside me and looked me in the eye, which he rarely does, and said "my father was gunned down when I was sixteen, and he already had my future, your future, and your children's future planned out. Go back to Columbia, Sebastián, bring back the Escobar fortuna.."
I've done my research on my grandfather. I did not want to become the man he became. I also did not want to live the life of constantly being on the run and in fear of my family being harmed.This also isn't the 80s anymore. I'm sure you read about the Columbian farmer that found $600,000,000 of my grandfather's hidden money. There's hundreds of hiding spots for money that contains anything from 500,000,000 to a billion. I am doing exactly what my father asked of me. I am going back to Columbia, and I am bringing back the Escobar Fortuna.
"Sebastián!" I heard behind me as I was walking to my father's helipad, "Aunt Manuela thought you could use some company."
Roberto Gaviria, my grand uncle, had a bastard child with a close family friend's sister. And out came little Roberto junior.
"Mi Familia!" I wrapped my arm around Roberto's head before he could put on the Kangol, but after he lit the cigarette.
"I think we should follow their old smuggling routes" Roberto said as exhaling "could be some kind of clues there"
"This isn't Nancy Drew and the case of the missing camera, shit stain, this is serious" I wanted to start at Hacienda Napoles, my grandfather's old home in Columbia. But it was a sight of tourism, anything there that could be taken was already seized by the government. So we decided to try the old smuggling routes when we arrived.
"We've been to six different rally points on these smuggling routes and the only fucking thing here are blue barrels stuffed inside different letters." Roberto grunted as he tossed his boag butt
"Start writing down every letter you see" my own words did not even feel as if they were mine "We're starting from the beginning"
V I G A I R A
B R O E C B S A
I slammed the breaks and stared at Roberto
"...No" he said. You can tell he came to the same conclusion as I did. The Columbian farmer found Pablo's money in a blue barrel. These blue barrels were attached to different letters. We stopped at the first row of letters and barrels and they were just out of reach
"Well what now, fag? You came this far" Roberto spat as he lit up yet another cig
These letters HAD to mean something, right? Maybe they're scrambled? The first row of words spelled out Gaviria, and out rolled four giant blue barrels. "Fuck me! This shits mine, seb, go over to the next row"
As pissed as I was about Roberto grabbing the first barrels and dancing, I decided to walk over to the second row.
"This is way too simple." I whispered "Why are these all in English?
I rearranged the letters to spell ESCOBAR and out rolled 20 barrels, all double the size of Roberto's.
"No fucking way, cousin."
I lifted the lid, and could not believe how much money was inside. This... was the Escobar fortuna.