Chasing Sunshine | JJ Maybank

6 // Pilot

The majority of morning shifts at Coastal Rescue were spent food-prepping patient diets into their designated metal buckets, which was a monotonous and usually smelly chore. However, it wasn't extraordinarily difficult, and I found myself falling into a natural rhythm of motions once I started. Today was not one of those mornings.

"Shit," I seethed under my breath when I realized I had allocated a quarter pound of shrimp and a half pound of fish instead of the other way around, forcing me to start over again. When I angrily began scooping out the tiny, slippery minnows and tossing them back into the bulk barrel, I misjudged my force and a spray of fish juices flew upwards at my face. Jumping back with a shout of surprise and after wiping my cheek on my shoulder, I placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward with a deep sigh, trying to reign in my temper before continuing.

"Who spit in your corn flakes this morning?" Rosie asked, coming into the room behind me with empty buckets in need of washing. "Late night?"

I looked up and caught a blurry reflection of myself in the window. My dark brown hair that I normally take the time to pull into a neat bun for work, was haphazardly thrown in a messy ponytail, and dark bags hung listlessly underneath my indigo orbs. "Mm, you could say that," I mumbled, zeroing out the scale to continue with my work.

It was true, we didn't get home from the Boneyard until late the evening prior, and it took even longer to get John B back inside the house and tucked into bed. But what was the real cause of my distracted mind this morning, was vestigial outrage at JJ's behavior. And I suppose John B's as well, for picking a fight, but he hadn't pulled a gun on someone. And he came out of the deal with a black eye, so I figured he'd suffered enough.

"Well, why don't I finish up here?" Rosie offered, gathering her longer, strawberry-blonde hair into a ponytail of her own and pulling down an empty bucket.

"No, really, it's fine. I can handle it."

"Oh I know," she said, bumping her hips against mine playfully, "Late-night keggers don't get you out of work. But there's a couple people up front asking for you."

My expression scrunched in confusion, and began to walk towards the hallway but paused and stuck my head back into the door frame with a grin. "How do you know about keggers?"

She laughed lightly. "I grew up in the OBX too, Meg. You kids think you're the first ones to discover the Boneyard?"

Both eyebrows rose with a mildly impressed smirk as a means of reply, and I resumed my trip through the back facilities and into the lobby, where Pope and Kiara were both vaguely inspecting the bulletin board we had on the wall. "What are you guys doing here?" I asked, my tone a little harsher than intended.

Kie's face split open in a welcoming smile and patted me on the shoulder, giving no indication that she had lost any sleep over the events of last night. "Why so crabby? We're just here to visit our favorite...wait, what is she again?" she hesitated, turning to Pope to fill in the blank.

"Wildlife Care and Rehabilitation Intern," he supplied.

She snapped her fingers in agreement. "Right, that's it."

I crossed my arms over my chest suspiciously, studying Pope's closed-off demeanor with a well trained eye; he was always terrible at keeping secrets. "Sure, now why are you really here?"

"What? We thought maybe you could give us a tour-"

"Pope?" I interrupted Kie's bullshit explanation, staring my other friend down intently.

He heaved a great sigh, and then let out in a rushed stream of words, "John B needs us at the Château later."

My bad attitude boiled back to the surface when I realized their ulterior motives for coming here, and I threw up my hands incredulously. "Oh, you've got to be shitting me."