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JJ paced back and forth on the porch of the château, talking to Pope and Kie, the rooster in the shed crowing loudly in the background. "And we were right outside like this—" He pressed his back against the wall, mimicking our actions. "—and all we hear is just, bam! Bam! Bam!" He punched the air for emphasis. "Knocking the paint off the wall, G! From the inside. And I'm just looking at him, like—wait, first off, look at this shit." JJ cut himself off and made his way over to where Pope and Kie were sitting, bending his head down and shaking it in front of them to show off the flakes of paint still stuck in his hair. "Look at it."
I watched as the flakes fell from JJ's hair, laughing as Kie and Pope leaned away, cringing as the bits landed all over them.
"That's dandruff, disgusting," Kie grimaced.
"Okay, thank you." Pope pushed JJ away, brushing the flakes that landed on him off.
"Look at all that. All right? That's paint." JJ continued, "At that point, I was just like... I'm waiting for death."
I glanced over at John B, furrowing my brows in concern. He hadn't said a word since we got back from Lana's. We were all a bit shaken up by what we heard and saw at the house, but JJ was definitely more vocal about our experience.
"Oh, okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right?" Pope asked.
"Yeah," I sighed, feeling the weight of the moment.
"Did you get a good description of them? Anything we could bring to a police report, maybe?" Kie asked, her eyes darting between JJ, John B, and me, searching for answers.
JJ turned to glance out at the front yard for a moment before returning his gaze to them. "Burly."
"Burly?" Pope echoed, clearly puzzled.
"Yeah. You know, like—"
Kie shot JJ a confused look. "That's not very helpful," she muttered.
"Okay, well, no, like the type of guy at my dad's garage," JJ attempted to clarify, feeling the weight of their stares. "I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers," he added, glancing at me briefly.
The thing about JJ is that most people, especially Kooks and law enforcement, see him as nothing but trouble or a rule breaker. They say he's destined to end up just like his dad, Luke Maybank. It couldn't be further from the truth; I just wish JJ could see that for himself.
"I can tell you with full confidence, these boys, these killers—" He paused, taking a drag of his juul and exhaling the smoke before locking eyes with us again. "They're square groupers."
"They're square groupers, like narco square groupers? Like Pablo Escobar square grouper?" Pope asked, clearly unconvinced.
"Yeah, man," JJ breathed out, distress evident in his voice as he nodded.
