The Pogue Life || JJ Maybank

JJ the anxiety coach

We end up spending the night in my car, holed up under the car shelter of some random ass shack on the side of the road. JJ and I sprawl out in the boot, while the other three split the rest of the seats. It's a restless night, but between the exhaustion from running around, the adrenaline come down and JJ burying my face in his warm chest and wrapping his arms around me like his life depends on it, I do actually get some sleep. I wake up a few times either from the snores of the others, JJ trying to get comfortable without letting me go, or being uncomfortable myself. By the time I wake up, JJ's head is smushed in my chest and I don't know how he isn't suffocating himself but I can feel the heat of his breath between my breasts, his arms are around my waist, mine around his neck and our legs tangled together in an absolute mess. Despite all the windows being down, it's way too hot in this car.

Once the sun rises, we establish that the best course of action is to lay low. But, we can't exactly do that at any of our houses in case the cops come by, so we decide to stay where we are. At least in the car, we have a quick escape.

John B ends up sitting in the back with JJ and I, the three of us squished together. I'm laying sideways, my knees in the air and my head on JJ's lap, while he plays with my hair. John B has his head on my stomach and his feet hanging out the boot beside JJ's. I'm fiddling with his hair, trying to keep him calm and collected and secretly praying that he will fall asleep since everytime I woke up through the night he was just sitting there staring outside. I've made about six different plaits in his long, oily curls before we hear the radio start to talk about Peterkin and John B. Kie is quick to turn it off, since we've been avoiding the subject since we woke up.

"Lets game this out," JJ suggests, "maybe you guys can help since you're the smart ones and all, but... who are the cops going to believe; Ward Cameron or us? So, the accuser is a bigshot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governer on speed dial kind of person. The accused is John B, who is pretty much a homeless sixteen year old boy."

"Thanks, man," John B says, lifting himself into a sitting position and shooting a half-assed glare at my boyfriend.

"Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option," JJ says, "what other option do you have?"

"Enough with the Mexico bullshit, alright? Sarah's gonna bail me out," John B says.

"She did witness the whole thing," Kiara agrees.

"And she's gonna snitch on her brother?" Pope asks.

"She's in a rough spot right now. And even if she did, her word is about as good as yours is. Ward is still the person that he is, and she's still just a kid in the eyes of the police. Plus you fled the scene, which is pretty guilty in their eyes," I explain, not wanting to voice it but knowing we need to think logical right now.

"We've gotta get you off the island," JJ says.

"The ferry," Pope agrees, "it's the only way."

I hate to admit it, but the boys might be right. I don't know how Sarah can get him out of this. But the other side of it is, running only makes him look more guilty. But if he gets locked up, how do we possibly prove that it wasn't him? What evidence could there possibly be to prove that? If there was any footage from a body cam or dash cam of Peterkins, surely they would have already checked that. None of the four of us witnessed it, so it's literally Rafe and Ward against Sarah and John B.

Despite desperately not wanting to, John B also ends up having to agree. He doesn't want to leave Sarah and he wants to trust in her to help him out, but he's not dumb enough to solely have one plan. So, we head into town to get a ticket for the next ferry out of here.

We agree that it's probably best for John B to lay low as long as possible, so Pope volunteers to go buy the ticket. He doesn't make it past the huge community noticeboard, and instead walks back muttering and looking stressed with a piece of paper in his hand.

"So bad news: the ferry is closed, and there's this," he says, handing me a piece of paper through the window.

JJ and I look at the piece of paper with wide eyes before handing it back to Kie to show to John B. It's a wanted posted, like they have in old western movies, with a picture of John B and a $25 000 reward. This just got so much worse than it already was.

"Well, it's a good framer of you," JJ tries to joke, earning him a punch in the thigh from me.

"Okay, so the whole island's looking for John B right now," Pope says.

"That's a lot of money," Kie adds.

"This is bad. This is very, very bad," I say, "we gotta get you out of town."

"We gotta get to the HMS. Small, no running lights..."

"It's at the chataeu, Kie," John B points out.

"And I wonder if the cops got the whole place staked out," JJ adds, somewhat unnecessarily, "let me think... oh yeah, no, they definitely got that place locked down."

Pope comes up with an idea to take JJ's dad's old racing boat, saying we could get right up the coast on it. I have no idea what this boat is, but for John B's sake, I hope he's right.

"It's not gonna be easy Pope, I don't know where the keys are," JJ says.

All I can focus on is that we need to get the hell out of dodge before someone spots John B. Unfortunately, we are stuck in some pretty heavy traffic, something I've never seen in the OBX until today, so convenient for us. John B then points out that my car is on the poster and things start turning to shit really fast.

All of a sudden, a kid starts yelling about 'that guy' and pointing at the car. A bunch of other people quickly join in, one old dude coming right up to the window and banging on it. They draw the attention of two cops nearby, and I recognise one as the woman we had to shake off last night, so she definitely knows it's us. I wheel the car out of traffic as quickly as possible, cutting across the grass and trying my best not to hit any people, though I do clean up a couple inanimate objects before I get us back on the road as well as I can.

"John B, you gotta get out," Pope says.

"He's right. We'll draw the cops, you run," JJ agrees, so I hit the brakes, "I'll get the rig and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow. 3 o'clock, okay?"

John B agrees before hauling ass out of the car and running. JJ tells me to drive, and I hit the gas. We've gotta make it seem like a runaway still so that they won't suspect John B isn't in the car anymore.

"Where the hell do I go?" I ask, driving aimlessly, my anxiety sky-high.

I pull my hands off the wheel one at a time to crack my knuckles, something I do to focus my anxiety, particularly when I'm driving, then ask JJ to fix the music and play something, anything. I'm trying not to lose my head here, but I'm hurtling down the road like there's no goddamn tomorrow, knowing that if I get caught by the cops not only are we screwed but I'll probably lose my license, which is basically my prize possession. JJ switches the radio on, rests his hand on my thigh and whispers for me to breathe. He knows I use music to calm myself, so he probably clues in on my rising anxiety. His fingers slip between my thighs, underneath the material of my shorts, his fingers idly massaging the skin and drawing my attention.

"We gotta go to the last place the cops would look. We gotta go to the Cameron's," Kie explains.

"You sure?" JJ asks, still massaging my thigh.

"She's the only one who can clear John B," Kiara says, and I have to admit it makes sense. Plus the cops would never expect John B to end up at the Cameron's house right now, not when Ward was the one that accused him of murder.

"Sarah's house it is," I say, trying to work out where I even am in relation to her house.

"Turn left up here," JJ says quietly, probably watching my eyes dart around to try and make sense of our surroundings.

I nod, doing as he says and letting him guide me, with his hand still gripping my thigh. It's a really good way to centre me, surprisingly. Who knew JJ was so good at soothing anxiety?

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