CASTAWAY ⚓ R.C, J.M

THREE

The Pogues stepped up onto the porch of the Chateau and dropped down into the seats. 

"So, we stumbled upon the expensive boat of a dead man and it just so happens we're the only ones that know it's there." Harley summarised everything they had come across since getting back on land. "What do we do now?"

Pope was quick to voice his hectic thoughts, "We pretend like we didn't see anything. We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia."

"I mean, I still have that. So, it shouldn't be a problem. "

Pope's head shot to Harley's direction as he winced realising his choice of words. "That was incentive of me."

Harley shrugged, laughing lightly. It was sweet that he didn't want to hurt her feelings, however it wasn't a problem. The diagnosis was made ages ago and Harley was doing alright with it. She had reached a point where she could make light of it, instead of getting upset and hysterical about it. She had filled the gap in her brain with sand, beach water and all things OBX. 

"Not really. Anyways..."

"Pope's right for once. Let's all get amnesia like our dear Harley. Deny. Deny. Deny." JJ got up and leant against one of the wooden beams, opposite Harley. 

"Guys we can't keep that money." 

Harley disagreed with Kiara. "We definitely can, Kie. No one knows we were there or that JJ took anything."

"Exactly." JJ snapped his fingers and pointed to Harley. "Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara."

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

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

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

"I don't agree. 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. 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? Just sayin'."

John B's perspective sparked a long debate between the group. The main question was how did someone like Scooter cope such a costly boat? The answer seemed to be dodgy dealings, smuggling and square groupers; JJ immediately drew comparison to Harley's alleged hidden mafia family. Apparently, all the teens, but Pope were down for the dangers of trying to retrieve some unknown contraband resting in the boats bowels. In their heads they had conjured up an untold amount of riches and would be floating in oceans of green if they could get their hands on it. What took the longest was getting Pope on board, Kiara was pretty easy to drag to the dark side especially since Harley was on it. 

By the end of it all, the one decision they all completed agreed on was having a kegger. JJ and John B carried the kegs of beer supplied by Harley who knew someone from her times of being around Rafe and Barry. Pope carried two coolers, Kiara carried the taps for the kegs and Harley carried a bag filled with red solo cups. 

It didn't take long for the party to get underway. Pogues filled up the Boneyard pretty quickly, followed by Tourons, the kids of holiday goers on the island. Unfortunately, whenever a party was in swing Kooks somehow found their way. 

Harley got into her little groove and danced away with whoever joined her.

JJ watched from a distance every so often. It was like no matter what he did or where his focus laid, he always ended up back on Harley. The worst and best part was that he didn't realise he when he was doing it.