𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

68. Dolly Parton's boobs.

S I X T Y - E I G H T
Dolly Parton's boobs.

I have no clue why someone would throw a party for a wedding anniversary. Seems a little dramatic. But Topper's family are rich, rich. And powerful, so people want to suck up to them. Which explains why the party is crawling with Kooks, all vying for attention and connections to get monetary gain. Like they aren't rich enough.

This has got to be where Sarah is; she told me about the party a few days ago. This is our best bet anyway.

"Here's the game plan: get Sarah, go find Pope, Nelly and Cleo, and get down to South America as soon as possible. Cool?" John B explains as he ties up the boat, I try and pay attention, but I give up. He's going too quickly, it looks like witchcraft.

"Seems a bit vague, I gotta say, John B. Also, I don't got a passport, dog," JJ replies.

Who doesn't have a passport? Next, he's going to be telling me he doesn't even have a driver's licence.

"Hey, look, don't bore me with the details, all right? We'll figure that out later," John B tells JJ, who is turned around. "Hey, look at me." John B clicks his fingers at JJ. "We're gonna get Sarah, little rendezvous mission. Back on the boat, get out of here."

I look back at what he's looking at.

Kie.

Great. Fabulous. Beautiful. Fun. Slay. Amazing. Perfect.

Her nose is set with a little plastic cast-esque thing. Not to mention the fact that, even from fifty metres away, I can see that she couldn't cover the bruising.

"There's Kie. I can't really, you know, I don't want to cause a scene. So, if I– or Mabel– go there, there could be a little problem."

"There's Mike, he probably wants to kill me for breaking Kie's nose and leaving her hours away from OBX. Although that was all, Topper. He sees me, mission blown. We can't go down to South America."

"Frankie, JJ, look. Just don't be seen," John B says, like I can just turn myself invisible.

"Good idea. We'll stay here. I got your six," JJ decides, sitting back down.

"That-that's not what I was saying." John B shakes his head.

"We got your six." I smile at the boy, a smile of 'good luck and get crack-a-lacking'.

"I'll keep her running, dog," JJ says finally, tapping the boat. "Chop, chop. Though."

"Yep. Great." John B nods and walks away.

JJ sits down in the boat, and I sit on the dock, swinging my legs back and forth, hiding behind a picket fence. I no doubt look like shit, the dark green shirt hides the blood that probably stains it, and I got most of the blood off my skin, I'll need a shower to properly get it out. But I definitely look better.

If I think too much about my arm, it starts to really hurt. I threw back the rest of my pocket paracetamol and it made a dent in the searing pain, but no more.

"Whatcha thinking about?" I ask JJ, who looks like he's thinking a little too much.

"The usual," he says, kicking his legs up.

"Which is?" I push.

"You."

"Aren't you romantic?" I pout.

"I didn't finish, I was going to say your boobs." He smirks.

"The usual? How often do you think about my boobs?"

"All the time. You know what they say, good things come in small packages." He grins, knowing exactly what he's saying.

"They do say that. They also say it's not the size of the boat, it's the motion in the ocean. I hope you remember that." I give him a sarcastic smile back.