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"So, we didn't see anything." Pope paced back and forth on the porch of the Château, pointing dramatically towards the rest of us. "We don't know anything, we need to have total and complete amnesia."
"Actually, Pope's right for once." The blonde that was sitting in the chair beside me nodded. "See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny."
"We can't keep that money." Kiara spoke up next, my thumbnail caught between my teeth as my eyes turned to JJ.
"Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara." He snapped, his jaw clenching a little.
"We have to pass it onto Lana Grubbs." The girl reiterated. "Otherwise it's bad karma."
"It's bad karma to be implicated in a felony too." Pope scoffed, my head bobbing in agreement. I leaned against the screen behind me and sighed heavily. "We gotta go dark."
JJ got up and stood next to the door, which was to my left. His face remained stoic as he gazed out the window. "If that means that we get to keep the money, then I agree."
"I don't," I shook my head, using my foot to push off of the wall. Before the blonde could even question my reasoning, I cut him off and moved to properly face everyone. "Think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. This guy buys individual cigarettes at the porthole— I mean, I saw him begging for change in the save-a-lot parking lot once because he needed money for gas. We're dealing with a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket and all of sudden he's got a Grady White? makes no fucking sense when you think about it."
———ˋˏ ∵- ✿ - ∴ ˎˊ———
We all moved outside to the dock that my house shared with the Château so the boys could at least try to fish, while I continued to try and convince Pope on this whole Scooter thing. "Think about it Pope, how the hell does a guy like Scooter Grubbs get a Grady White?"
"Prostitution."
I smacked his arm. "No, idiot. Square groupers. Flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that shit in a hurricane. What does that mean? JJ?"
"They were straight smugglin'."
"Exactly! Smuggling! Simple. And I bet you there's a shit ton of contraband in that wreck." I concluded, crossing my arms over my chest.
