Kook by Birth, Pogue by Association // JJ

6. the one where we use a "borrowed" drone

"What's this?" JJ asks, poking at buttons on the drone.

"Don't touch that.I'm trying to work out this thing," Pope says sternly. He refocuses on the drone.

"God bless geeks, Pope. Truly, man. What would we do without you to control the drones?" JJ asks.

"It's not a drone. It's an ROV," Pope says, exasperated.

"Shut up. Shut up. It's too early for that right now," JJ complains.

"Hey, once we get footage of the wreck, we'll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim," I say, trying to think ahead.

"It's bullshit. Why do we have to do that?" JJ asks.

"Well, there is maritime salvage law. You can't just go to the ocean floor and scoop a bunch of stuff up," I tell him.

"I know. I know. It's just lawyers aren't cheap, Lex." He sighs.

"As soon as they see the footage, they'll work for a comp," John B says.

"How do you know all of that?" Pope asks.

"Cause my dad said it, like, a million times," he replies.

"Yeah, that's fair." Kie looks at the drone. Sorry, the ROV. Whatever. "This tether is, like, really long. In the wrong weather, it could get pushed around."

"Then we'll go at dead calm," John B says as a roll of thunder rumbles in the sky.

"At slack tide?" Kie asks.

"So now, we just gotta wait around for the right weather," I say. Another low roll of thunder rumbles. "And today is not that day."

*************************************
With questionable weather in the forecast, we have to postpone sending the drone to the bottom of the ocean. Kie and John B both have to work, so when Pope asks if I want to tag along with him and JJ on some deliveries for his dad, I jump at the opportunity. I meet them down at Heyward's early in the morning.

"You boys get these groceries over to Figure Eight.
Get straight back here when you're done. No fishin'," Heyward is telling Pope and JJ as I approach them on the dock. "Hey Lex!" he says when he sees me. "You here to keep these two in line?" he asks.

"Something like that," I tell him.

He smiles, then turns serious again. "I promised delivery by this afternoon. Rich folks don't wanna wait for you lazy sons of..." He trails off as JJ takes a few bags from his hands. "Oh, JJ, thank you," he says sweetly, the switches back again. "...sons of bitches."

"Right," Pope says. The three of us load the groceries into the boat. I separate the bags by order number and keep them grouped together for quick access at each stop. As we head away from Heyward's and into the waters of Figure 8, it's easy to see the disparity between the two sides of the island.

"Doesn't even look like the storm hit here," Pope says as we go by an immaculate lawn.

"That's because they got generators, bro. Get used to it," JJ says.

"And then they say the juice will be out all summer at the cut," Pope says. "It's nice to be a Kook."

The boys turn and look at me. "Blaine's house lost a few shingles. And his WiFi is spotty," I say, trying to downplay how much better it is on this side of the island. They both roll their eyes at me.

"Lucky bastards," JJ says as we pass house after house with little to no storm damage.

The country club has a big order, so I volunteer to go with Pope to deliver what they bought while JJ moves on to the next customer. He drops us at the dock out behind the golf course and takes off with a salute.