MONEY, MONEY, MONEY! jj maybank

003. subtle or not subtle

THERE WAS NO WAY SCOOTER GRUBBS OWNED THE BOAT. Nicola refused to believe a word that was coming out of Pope's mouth until Kiara showed her a picture of the dead body that had been airdropped to her at the dock.

So it was either that random girl had photoshopping skills that were out of this world, or her friends were right: Scooter was dead. Gone. Nada. And that meant that she had just involved herself in a pretty serious crime. Which meant that the police would be heavily involved. Which meant if she left a single fingerprint or a piece of hair at the motel, she was completely and utterly fucked.

And although she was a bit jittery, Pope was full-on panicking. He was repeatedly mumbling to himself, pacing around the front 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." JJ chimed in, standing right beside their friend. "See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny."

"Guys, we can't keep that money," Kiara stated, specifically looking at JJ and Cola.

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

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

"Who cares about bad karma when you've got money?" Cola added, taking the dollar bills out of her pocket and showing it proudly like she often did so. This was a sensitive topic for Kie and her, and whenever money was involved, Cola would constantly remind her friend that she didn't understand the hustle since she was born into riches, while Kie constantly reminded her that sometimes, her fixation on money made her a little cuckoo.

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

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

"So do I," Cola added, making everyone roll their eyes. JJ and Cola teaming up again. Typical.

"I don't agree."

Both JJ and Cola snapped their heads towards John B, who usually supported their antics. "What? Why?"

"Just think about it." John B persisted, a weird glint in his eyes. "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'."

An hour later, after everyone had shut John B up, Cola was attempting to catch a fish with Pope beside her, but John B was still persisting. "All right, so think about it, you guys. How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?"

"Prostitution."

"Stealing."

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

Not missing a bit, JJ smirked at the two as he caught a fish. "They were straight smugglin'."

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

Cola slightly lowered her fishing rod, taking everything in. Of course, she only cared about the money, but John B was making a lot of sense right now.

Another hour later, Nicola took a bath In John B's bathroom after smelling a bit like fish. Once she was done, she plopped down the bed beside's Pope, leading them to the conversation they were having right now.