On Top//Topper Thornton

three

We head back to John B's trying to come up with a plan.

Pope comes rushing onto the back porch. "Okay. So, um... we didn't see anything. We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia."

"Actually, Pope's right for once. See, I agree with you sometimes." JJ stands up and walks towards John B. "Deny, deny, deny."

"Guys, we can't keep that money," Kie says.

"Okay. Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara," JJ tells her.

"We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma," Kie warns.

"Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too. We gotta go dark," Pope offers.

"If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree," JJ states.

John B puts his hand on JJ's shoulder. "I don't agree."

"What? Why?" JJ asks.

"Just think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas," I state.

"We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White?" John B throws his hands up. "Just sayin'."      

We sit out on the dock. Pope and JJ are fishing.

"All right, so think about it, Pope. How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?" I question.

Pope inhales sharply. "Prostitution."

"Square groupers, bro. Okay, flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? JJ?" John B asks.

"They were straight smugglin'," JJ states.

"Smugglin'. And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck," John B states.

"Hell, yeah. Fish on!" JJ shouts.

We sit in John B's room trying to convince Pope to go back to the wreck.

"For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it ...it probably belongs to someone else," Pope states.

I shake my head. "Minor details."

Pope gestures with the stack of cash. "They could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid."

JJ takes the money from him. "Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time. All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal."

Pope sighs. "Right. And how exactly do we do that?"

"Kegger?" Kie offers.

We set up the keg on the beach in the boneyard. Red cups ready for a party. JJ squirts John B in the face with beer and we all laugh. We start the party and just wait for people to show up.

You can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, the working-class derelicts from the cut. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks.

Kie and I get drunk and I convince her it's a good idea to climb on top of a washed up buoy. I laugh as I almost fall off.

"Ashlynn! Ashlynn, be careful, okay?" Topper tells me. I laugh as he helps me down from the buoy. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you."