violent love

"SHE DOESN'T NEED TO TALK TO THE COAST GUARD. It's a dog," the gang hears as they make their way to a U.S. Coast Guard Hurricane Response tent. Agents and volunteers unpack food and supplies from the mainland, Outer Banks civilians —mostly tourons— wail for help with their anxiety and confusion. "How about the Humane Society?"

John B leads the group of teenagers, he skips towards a crowded tent, while Pope, Kie, JJ, and Marty follow him together.

"He's a diabetic! He's a —he's a diabetic!" They hear as they weave through the crowds of people. John B rolls his eyes as he hears this old white republican-looking couple complains that their dog is missing.

"No, I understand that."

He leans on top of the counter, before yelling at the poor officer —who is combatting too many people at once. "Excuse me!"

When that doesn't work, JJ and Martha come on the other side of the officer, also trying to get his attention. "Hey man, we- we found a boat." "Excuse me."

No one is hearing them past the annoying little whine coming from The Karen. "Please.. my dog is out there somewhere"— and Martha had enough.

"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry that your dog is missing but will you shut up! He's heard countless times before that it's a diabetic. It's not his job to find your dog. It is your dog! So you go look for it! It's your fault that you let it out in a fucking hurricane!! So bye-bye now!" She scolds the lady, surprising everyone who happened to be listening in the conversation.

JJ smirked proudly. Until the officer yelled at her.

"Hey! Calm down!"

Martha flinched. It wasn't because of the harsh voice but the hand almost hitting her face.

"Hey! Don't yell at her! She's doing you a favor! Why do you let these wannabe assholes walk all over you!" JJ defends, grabbing the officer's arm before it retreats back.

"Woah, JJ," John warns, racing over to separate the brooding blond from the officer with a walkie-talkie. Martha swallows the fear and butterflies and pulls back on his tee, her hands are the ones who calms him down.

He sighs, letting go of the arm, and steals a pen, before taking Martha's hand with his own and walking out of the chaos.

"Well, that went well."

"So, what's the plan?"

"I think I know how we're gonna find the guy who owns the boat." John B states, waving around the motel key in his fingers. Ideas are circling around his head, Marty can see it in his eyes.

"No, no. We don't know whose room that is. It could belong to anyone."

JJ sweeps the keys from John B before dangling them above Martha's eyesight. "I'm in."

She smiles, grabbing them before chucking them to Kiara. "Me too."

"Come on. I'll be the lookout," Kiara says as she catches the small metal keys.

"Finder's fee, just saying. And, hey, at least you'll only be an accomplice." John B reassures Pope as they walk back towards HMS Pogue.

Pope bites his lip in temptation before letting out a hesitating sigh.

"Come on, bubba," John B calls out using a sweet pet name.

➵ ➵ ➵

MARTHA WHISTLES AT THE SIGHT of a dirty and wrecked-looking motel. The walls were grimy and dingy with sand sticking on the moldy pieces; the roof was falling apart; the palm trees were barely standing up straight; the pool was filled with all kinds of monsters from the depths of the Atlantic; about thirty broken mattresses were on the railings; and the sign, summer winds motel was broken in half. "I thought the Château looked bad."

"This place is a shitshow."

"Motel or meth lab?"

"You be the judge."

"Doesn't look like a place somebody with a Grady-White would stay." John B says as he allows the HMS Pogue to drift towards the makeshift dock.

"No, it looks like a place where someone with a Grady-White would get killed."

"Alright, here we go," JJ's voice changes to sound like he's an old man on a radio network. "This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for a landing." Right before the boat crashes onto the garbage-infested docking station, he jumps off, yelling in amusement. J ties the rope onto someone, securing the boat's stay. Martha stumbles a little, still not used to being on the boat and its unsteady motions.

"We good?" John B asks J but Martha thought he was talking to her so she nodded anyway.

"Yeah, we're good."

"All right. Here goes nothin'." John B states.

"I'm coming too," Martha says, smirking between the two teenage boys.

"Fine by me." John B shrugs. "Mighty fine with me Mcfly." JJ winks.

"Hey, don't let him do anything stupid," Pope says, pointing to JJ.

"Oh, we will."

"I'm not making promises."

"Yeah, I know."

"Don't worry popsicle, I got him." Marty pats on Pope's head. I don't got him, I can't even handle him.

Kiara hands John B the key, her eyes lingering on his, her hand not letting go of his. "Be careful, I mean it."

Martha and JJ side-eyes each other before following their headstrong friend to an abandoned and a definitely deadman's motel room.

"Why are all these mattresses out here?" John B questions as he makes his way up the shaking stairs.

"Not you deflecting," Martha calls him out ahead of her. JJ snickers in agreement.

"After a hurricane, they ditch 'em cause they're moldy."

"What are you guys saying about me now?" John B questions, turning around to face the couple.

"Just be soo careful, John," JJ teases, caressing Johnny's face.

Johnny's face contorts in disgust, shoving his best friend off his body. "God, you're so weird."

"I said 'not you deflecting,' because like what the heck was that about?" Martha skips up to the two boys.

"I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful." He shrugs, his voice wavering in hormones and uncertainty.

"Since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like, "Oh! Be so careful, John B, '' JJ goes back to caressing and feeling up John B's back.

—"Get off."—

"Oh, just give me that John D already. When you are gonna swoop on that, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, shoot your shot!"

"Bro, you know the rule man. No pogue-on-pogue macking."

"Fuck that shit. That's the stupidest rule I've ever heard of." Marty points out, her thoughts being drowned out by what comes out of John B's mouth next.

"You're the one always hitting on her."

Martha freezes in her place for a quick second —it's hardly noticed by John B, but JJ catches it.

"Okay, okay, I used to. But now that I have a righteous babe right here, there's no need." JJ smiles down at Martha before picking her up bridal style.

She squeals in excitement and in laughter. "No need to defend yourself J, I mean have you seen Kie? She's a super hot, rich, hippie chick that's hanging out with you bums. Why? I haven't figured that out yet either, but who cares?" Martha jumps down off of JJ, even though she wanted his hands on her forever.

"Right. And I know that door's locked because I've tried it. Have you?"

"Gosh, you two are made for each other."

"I think this is it," Martha says, "229."

JJ shimmies to the front of the trio, before knocking his bruised knuckles on the green door in a funny beat. His knuckles were still a bit red from the blood vessels popping after he punched the living shit out of Rafe the other night. Occasionally the rings on his fingers made a ting sound that sounded like magic to her ears.

"Housekeeping." He says in a high-pitched voice like he was trying to sound like a little girl.

"Just open the door already, no one's inside," Marty said giggling, she grew impatient.

"Yeah, there's no power. No security cameras. No ones gonna know."

John B pushes open the door after unlocking it to find another dingy-looking room. It definitely belonged to this motel. He clicks on his flashlight, going over to the bag on the bed and JJ goes over to the bag on the stand.

"See if there's a name on there somewhere." Martha closes the door, she decides that she is going to be the lookout.

"Got a jacket,"

—"Denim slides,"—

"No name on the jacket. It's a nice jacket, though."

—"Definitely over 50. He's got New Balances."—

"Hey! That's a little offensive! I wear New Balances! They are good for my feet and great for running!!" Martha exclaims, she's a little angry that he automatically assumed he was old because he wore new balances.

"Whatever... old hag." John B mumbles the last part, earning a snicker from JJ.

"I hate you." She scoffs, turning back to keep looking out.

JJ shuffles over to the bedside table, his eyes spot a little posted note on a map. "Yo, dude, come here. Maybe this is where they were fishing."

"Nah, that's off the continental shelf. That's Big Swell. Nobody fishes there."

Marty turns around as the boys look around the room, but the problem with boys is that they never look with their eyes, only their penises.

So she waltzes over to the dresser under the television stand, and finds a safe —cause in every hotel or motel room she's ever been to there's always a safe.

She then circles back to the papers found on the bedside table and looks at the five-number code on the sheet of paper —the paper has the same logo of the motel printed on it.

6-1-6-6-6.

"Move," she shoves John B out of her way and begins to type in the code. It beeps for a second and then the light turns green. "You're welcome." She opens the hatch to find the safe loaded with cash and a gun.

"Holy shit." John B says, looking at her in awe before grabbing a stack of bundled-up cash.

"Uh, JJ?"

"Hm?" He looks over his shoulder.

"You're gonna want to see this." And Martha smiles as she waves a wad of hundreds his way.

"Oh fuck yeah! Told ya she's a keeper!" JJ says, kissing Martha on the cheek before grabbing the gun. "Dude, dude, dude!"

"You grabbed the gun."

"Out of all the things in this safe, you grab the gun! Why!"

"This is a SIG Sauer."

"Put the gun back, JJ!"

"Why?! C'mon Marty, that bastard can never bother you again. Not when we have this. This is a fucking spendy GATT, man. Just... Bam! Bam!"

"Hey, think about it! We are not stealing anything!"

"Yeah! Come on J, put it back!"

"Just take a pic of me. Right here." He continued, posing with the gun in his hand.

"Okay, but only if you promise to put it back!" Martha sighs, pulling out her phone and taking a couple of pictures. I want one as my Home Screen.

"Take a picture of you? Make our own incriminating evidence? Is that what you're talking about?" John B reasons with him.

Tapping can be heard from the window so John B went to investigate it. Martha looked at JJ, how something pondered in his mind like he was debating doing something with it. And she was right.

Because he wasn't thinking of only Rafe, Kelce, or Topper, or any kook. He was also thinking of his father.

"Wait, what was that?"

"What? What was what?"

John B peaks through the blinds to find Pope and Kiara making violent hand gestures and quietly screaming that the cops were there.

"Kildare County Sheriff's Department!" A thick southern accent can be heard through the wooden door as the trio of teens raced towards the window.

Martha went out first, then JJ, then John B. J and Marty were on one side while John B on the other. Martha kept her eyes up, she was low-key kinda scared of heights. She just kept her pudding brown gaze on J's electric blue ones.

"What are you guys doing?!" Pope whispers as Kiara mumbles "oh my god."

"John B, no!" Martha whispers as he peaks through the blinds to spy on the cops snooping around the dusty room. JJ shushes her by covering her mouth with his hand. She can taste the salty metal of his platinum ring on her lips.

"Be quiet."

Now both John B and JJ watch as the crooked cop gives a wad of cash to the deputy and keeps one for himself. In disbelief, JJ whispers, "do you believe this shi"—

But his sudden movements cause the gun hiding in the waistband of his pants to fall and drop on the tin overhang of a window below them —causing a loud sound to echo through the quiet area.

"Shit," he whispers under his breath, before pushing up against Marty, blocking her body from anyone's view but his.

➵ ➵ ➵

"WELL, THAT WAS FUN. Could have warned us sooner." JJ said as he was laying on the bumpy floorboard as the HMS pogue flowed down the river stream. Martha laid right neck to him, cuddling into his side.

"We would have, except Pope was on the math team."

"You were on the math team?" Martha joked, putting her head on JJ's bicep.

"The cops took everything like it was a crime scene. Did you guys find anything?" Pope states as everyone directed their attention to JJ.

He got up —unfortunately moving Martha out from the clutches of his arms (because he loved how clingy she was)— sitting up straight to reveal the things he got.

"Did we find anything? No, I don't think so. Oh, yeah, we did." He said, lifting up the wad of hundreds in one hand and the gun in the other.

"What the hell?"

"Dude, what?"

"Dude, chill. Come on."

"Why take that from a crime scene?"

"It's better than the cops having it."

"Yeah! ACAB!" Martha yelled in excitement.

"I'm gonna lose my merit scholarship," Pope said, almost hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey, hey. Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh," JJ silenced him with the gun on his lips. "At least you have us, right?"

"I'm living the nightmare."

➵ ➵ ➵

BACK AT THE MAIN SET OF DOCKS, the gang of four pogues and one touron hung out with other kids from outer banks. There was news flying around that a body was discovered.

"Who's he?" John B said, staring at the weeping widow hovering over her dead husband. He was sitting on a piece of wood, next to a girl. Pope was standing on the opposite side leaning on the wood; Kiara sat on a wooden stair just below; JJ stood next to John B, one handheld the rafters and another hugged Martha's neck from behind.

"It's Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm," the girl answered. "Check out this pic I got."

"Dead body." She bragged, but Martha's and John B's faces grew in disgust and looked the other way.

"What kind of boat did he have?" JJ asked, his curiosity got to the better of him and he wanted to switch topics because he felt Martha become uncomfortable.

"Somehow, that dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady-White. Everyone's out looking for it."

John B then connected his eyes with Marty and then JJ, then they flew over Scooter's dead body on the EMT roller.

➵ ➵ ➵

BACK AT THE CHATEAU, the gang was subjected to think about their life decisions.

"Okay. So, um... we didn't see anything." Pope said as he walked back and forth, he was panting in order to calm down his anxiety. "We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia."

"Actually, Pope's right for once," JJ states, pointing at Pope's idea to lay low. Martha was on the window sill next to John B. And Kiara was now on the couch that Pope just plopped himself on.

"See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny." He stands up and makes his way toward his girl, placing his coarse hands on her bare thighs and going in between her dangling legs.

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

"Okay. 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 can be implicated in a felony, too."

"Yeah, I have to agree with her on this one J. I mean her husband just died."

"We gotta go dark."

"If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree," JJ argues, making them all sign in frustration over his stubbornness.

"I don't agree," John B says, patting JJ on the shoulder before going to his room.

"What? Why?"

"Just think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. Right? 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 needs gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White? Just sayin'."

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

"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? Marty?"

"They were straight smugglin'."

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

"Hell, yeah."

"For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it..."

"Minor details," Martha says, liking the idea of where this is going.

"...it probably belongs to someone else. They could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid."

"Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time." JJ states, grabbing the stack of 100s and fanning them out to show their positive outcomes.

"All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hood of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal."

"Right. And how exactly do we do that?" Martha asks, playing with the rings on J's tan fingers.

"Kegger?"