Outer Banks Series Rewrite - A JJ Maybank x reader story

Chapter Three: The Forbidden Zone

Kie stares at me in shock as I pass the envelope to John B, watching his face.

"That's not gold," JJ observes as Kie and I slither out of the mausoleum.

"Ever so observant, J," I grunt, pulling myself out of the hole.

"Holy shit." John B whispers. "This is from my dad."

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"That bread had mold on it three days ago, babe." I gag, watching JJ spread peanut butter on the green-tinted bread.

"I'll just pull off the bad parts. Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a natural organism." The blond boy hums, picking up the sandwich.

"JJ!" Kie calls from the living room.

"Yup, yup, yup!" JJ jogs into the room. "Hot damn! Let's do it. Mmm." He takes a bite of the sandwich, gagging afterward.

We all watch as John B tears open the envelope. "Holy shit..." JB whispers, dumping the contents of the envelope out.

Pope scoops up the map, spreading it out. "X marks the spot."

"Longitude, latitude." John B points out before looking back inside the envelope. "Wait, there's somethin' else in here."

"What's that?" JJ asks, picking it up.

"It's a tape recorder, dumbass." JB snatches it back, hitting the button.

Dear Bird...

"Who's Bird?" JJ frowns in confusion.

"That's what my dad called me..." John B whispers.

I hate to say "I told you so", but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect at this moment, you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn't expect to find the Merchant either. You were probably right to call me out. Wasn't exactly Father of the Decade. What can I say, kid? I could smell the barn. And hopefully, we're listenin' to this in our brand new sugar-shack down in Costa Rica, livin' off passive investments and pulling on permits. If not, and you find this for less than optimal reasons, well, that's what the map is for. There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If somethin' happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. And Turtle, keep an eye on Bird for me. Make sure he keeps his head on straight. I'll see you on the other side.

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"How much was it again?" I ask JB, resting my head in JJ's lap.

"Four hundred mil." JB absentmindedly plucks at the strings of his guitar.

"All right, let's talk the split." JJ hums, running his hands through my hair. "Now, before we say 'evenly', may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us. Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"You haven't trained." I roll my eyes. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, baby! That's at least a five percent bump right there."

"What are you gonna do with your 100 mil, Pope?" I ask, ignoring JJ.

"Pay for college in advance. And also, textbooks. Those are expensive." Pope fixes his hat, laying back on the guest bed. "What about you, Kie?"

"Yeah, what does a socialist do when she's rich?" JB asks, making all of us laugh.

"Just wanna make a double album." Kie folds her legs under her, holding the ukulele in her lap. "About OBX, the Pogues. You know, the way Catch a Fire is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing."