𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ²

13

13 . 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗵 .

"𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄, they've had, like, three governors in the family," Kiara explained as the truck slowed to the side of the road. "They've run Charleston for, like, three hundred years."

Charleston sure was a picture of wealth, and they could see it firsthand now that they were in the center city. They'd spent the night in the truck, and although the front seats weren't the comfiest bed she'd ever slept on, Charlotte still found it a rather comforting situation to sleep under the stars with her friends right beside her. While the stars shined above them— slightly obscured by the big oak tree they were parked beside— they talked about meaningless things for a while before exhaustion caught up to them and they said their goodnights. The three Pogues slept in the bed of the truck, while Charlie curled up in the seats with the blanket JJ had tossed her.

In the morning, she was the first to wake. She had woken up to the sound of bees buzzing, and had nearly hit her head on the steering wheel in the process. She didn't need to wake the others, because for some reason they just knew it was time to get up— they had to be at their destination as soon as possible. She'd sat on the rim of the truck and thought about John B during the time it took them to wake up as well and get themselves ready for the next stretch of driving— her legs hanging back and forth and her hair blowing softly in the sweet post-summer breeze.

They'd driven over the Charleston bridge, drove through town, and now they were here— stopping in front of their destination. 27 King Street. Somewhere in all of that, Charlotte had asked the group about the "Kook Kings of Charleston" to know the full extent of what she was getting herself into. Or at least some of it. The most that they knew.

"These Kooks make our Kooks look like Pogues." JJ said, from beside her.

Charlie's eyes sort of widened a little at that bit, and she slightly nudged her shoulder away from being pressed to JJ's. He'd refused to sit back in the truck bed after yesterday because his "butt was hurting tremendously" and so they all squeezed into the front. It was definitely illegal, but so was riding in the bed of a truck without a seat, or a seatbelt, through a sophisticated town. So Charlotte's shoulder was pressed up on the window the entire ride, her other one pressed to JJ, and it continued like that. But not for Pope, he needed "arm room".

The conversation about the Charleston rich folk slid to an end when the car finally came to a stop. They were stopped beside an enormous white Antebellum mansion with endless balconies, barricaded with an iron gate. It had a vague familiarity of the Cameron's house back on Figure Eight. Except this one was scarier.

JJ leaned forward to see past Charlotte. "You sure this is the place, Pope?" he asked, skeptically, without looking over to him.

Pope took a long second to answer, not tearing his eyes away from the house. "Pretty sure." he said lowly, as he reached for the door.

None of them could look away from the mansion for a few seconds. There was something captivating about it, and the more she stared, the more Charlotte's stomach twisted with a bad feeling. She didn't mention that feeling to the others just yet, though.

"Alright," JJ shrugged, and nudged Charlie's shoulder for her to push open the door.

She pushed the passenger side door open at the same time Pope left the driver's side. She still couldn't tear her eyes from the mansion as she stepped out onto the slick pavement, pushing her hair behind her ears. JJ hopped out behind her, and then Kiara.