𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊, 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖻 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾

4: 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢

The five teenagers all found themselves relaxing on crates with other teenagers near the docks. Feet away from them stood paramedics, a man strapped down on a stretcher. All the teenagers watches as they start to wheel him away, but a woman comes running, letting out quiet sobs as she stands right in front of their way, staring down at the man laying on the stretcher, continuing to cry.

At this, Y/n's heart breaks.

"Who's that?" John B questions.

"It's Scooter Grubbs." A random girl responds, sitting beside Y/n, John B on the other side of her. "He was out during the storm. Check out this pic I got." The girl shows them her phone. "Dead body."

"What kind of boat did he have?" JJ questions.

"Somehow, that dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady-White. Everyone's out looking for it." The girl replies.

The five of them silently share a look, thinking all the same thing. They were the ones that found the Grady-White, and yet still haven't reported, considering the coast guards pushed them away.

***

After finding out the news about the boat and the dead body, the group of five found themselves sitting at the Chateau. Pope being the most panicked one out of the five. Y/n sat in the chair beside her brother, biting at her nails. Her and John B occasionally met eyes.

"Okay. We didn't see anything. We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia." Pope states frantically.

"Actually, Pope's right for once." JJ informs. "See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny."

"Guys, we can't keep that money." Kie tells them.

"Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara." JJ retorts.

"We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma." Kie insists.

"Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too." Pope adds, nodding. "We gotta go dark."

"If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree." JJ says, softly patting his sister's hand, squeezing it gently.

John B shakes his head. "I don't agree."

"What? Why?" JJ questions.

"Just think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White? Just sayin'." John B explains.

***

"Think about it, Pope." John B starts, all of them at the docks, JJ and Pope fishing. "How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?"

Pope takes a deep breath. "Prostitution."

"Square groupers, bro." John B corrects. "Okay, flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. they don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? JJ?"

"They were straight smugglin'." JJ replies.

"Smugglin'." John B repeats, looking back at Pope. "And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck."

***

The five now sat in John B's bedroom, Y/n's head resting on John B's shoulder as Pope talked.

"For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it, it probably belongs to someone else." Pope begins.

"Minor details." Kie interrupts.

"They could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid." Pope finishes, ignoring her.

"Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time." JJ responds, holding the stack of money in his hands. "All we need to do right now is just figure out a way to get into that cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal."

"Right. And how exactly do we do that?" Y/n questions her brother.

"Kegger?" Kie suggests.

The four all glance to one another, before turning to the girl, nodding their heads in agreement to her suggestion.