𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽

4: 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔

The five Pogues all sat on crates beside the docks. Other teenagers stood around them, every single one of them watching the scene playing right in front of them. A man laid on a stretcher, strapped down, the paramedics wheeling him off the docks. Y/n's heart breaks at the sight of a woman running towards them, stopping right in front of the stretcher, crying as she stared down at her husband.

"Who's that?" John B asks.

"It's Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm." A girl replies as she sits on the same crates with them. "Check out this pic I got." She shows her phone screen. "Dead body."

"What kind of boat did he have?" JJ asks curiously.

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

The five glance at each other, all with the same knowing look, knowing they were the ones who found the boat, found the motel key, and still haven't reported seeing the Grady-White to the coast guards. Not really their fault. The coast guards pushed them away.

***

The Pogues all went back to the Chateau, discussing the situation they were in at the moment. They were all panicky about this, more Pope than the rest. Y/n sat beside Kie, her head resting on her older sister's shoulder, Pope taking the other side beside her.

"Okay. We didn't see anything. We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia." Pope's voice was frantic as he stated his words.

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

"Guys, we can't keep that money." Y/n speaks up.

"Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Y/n." JJ fires back.

"We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma." Kie adds, agreeing with her little sister.

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

"If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree." JJ says.

John B shakes his head, patting the blonde's shoulder. "I don't agree."

"What? Why?" JJ asks.

"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. How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?" John B asks as they all stood at the docks, Pope and JJ fishing.

"Prostitution." Pope responds confidently.

John B shakes his head. "Square groupers, bro. 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 responds.

John B turns to Pope, shrugging. "Smugglin'." John B repeats. "And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck."

***

"For the record," Pope starts, all of them sitting in a bedroom. "if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it, it probably belongs to someone else."

"Minor details." Kie interrupts.

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

JJ leans over, the stack of money in his hands. "Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time. "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?" Pope asks.

"Kegger?" Kie suggests after sharing a look with her sister.

The three boys all glance at each other, shrugging and nodding in agreement.