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''Yeah, JJ, care to elaborate? Because the last time you had a 'plan,' it involved duct tape, a chainsaw, and a goat. And I don't think we've fully recovered from that.''

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I SAT ON the porch steps, carefully dabbing at John B's bloodied knuckles with a damp cloth. His hand twitched as I applied more pressure.

''It's something about the dude's face, you know?'' John B started, breaking the quiet. ''Like the whole, 'No hard feelings, bro.' You know what I'm saying?''

JJ leaned against the porch railing, his usual smirk playing on his lips. '''No hard feelings.' It's kinda hard not to have hard feelings about that,'' he quipped, shaking his head.

I glanced up at John B, rolling my eyes. ''You need the Mickey Mouse band-aids when we get Pope?'' I teased, my tone light but my focus still on his injured hand.

''I'm not a kid,'' he muttered defensively, shooting me a look before turning back to JJ.

''It's just that... that look. That kook look, you know?'' John B continued.

JJ crossed his arms, nodding. ''It was clear provocation,'' he declared with exaggerated confidence.

''Provocation,'' I corrected under my breath, my lips twitching into a small smile.

''Provocation,'' JJ repeated, pointing at me as if he'd been right all along. ''And, uh, I mean, you had to do what you had to do. No choice about it.''

''Thank you! No choice.'' John B's voice sharpened. He stood abruptly, pulling his hand away from mine and heading inside. ''We gotta figure out a plan to get to South America, like, yesterday. They've got my dad.''

I sighed, folding the bloodied cloth neatly before tossing it onto the porch beside me. ''You have any food real quick, though?'' JJ called after John B, trailing him into the house.

I followed, the faint scent of mildew and leftover takeout greeting me as I stepped into the dimly lit kitchen. John B was already rummaging through the fridge, pulling out a plastic container.

''So I was thinking, passports,'' he began, turning toward us. ''We don't have those. Therefore, we can't fly commercial. We need other ideas.''

JJ leaned casually against the counter, snagging an old piece of meat John B had just sniffed and promptly rejected. ''Okay, well, don't you got the money you took from Portis?''

''I gave that to my dad,'' John B replied flatly.

''So then what about a boat?'' JJ suggested, gesturing animatedly with the half-eaten piece of meat.

''If we got a boat, maybe we could get down there because the HMS... yeah, you know about the HMS,'' JJ rambled. ''Oh! Limbrey! Limbrey has a boat. What if we took that one down?''

''She took that back,'' John B countered. ''And the HMS is not gonna make it down to the Port of Spain, so we're out on the boats.''

I wrinkled my nose as JJ took another bite of the questionable meat, completely oblivious to John B's incredulous stare. ''Unbelievable,'' John B muttered under his breath.

''Actually,'' JJ started, straightening up as a sly grin spread across his face. ''I might have a guy. I'm onto something.''

''Uh-oh,'' John B interrupted.

''You don't start with 'uh-oh,' dude,'' JJ fired back, waving the meat around like it was proof of his brilliance. ''You're so negative.''

Before John B could reply, his expression shifted. His eyes widened, and he ducked quickly, hissing, ''Get down! Shoupe is out front right now!''

I crouched behind the flimsy table, my heart pounding against my ribs as John B pulled me down beside him. My hand instinctively shot out, yanking JJ along before he could do anything reckless—well, more reckless than usual.

''Under here? Seriously?'' JJ whispered harshly, his voice muffled against the edge of the table.

''Unless you've got a better idea,'' I murmured, pressing my palms into the dusty floorboards to steady myself. 

''Yoo-hoo! Anybody home? John B!'' Shoupe called, knocking on the door.

JJ gestured wildly at the tiny space we were crammed into. ''Go under there. Under there.''

''We're already under, genius,'' I whispered back, shooting him a glare.

''All right, John B, I know you're in there!'' Shoupe's voice boomed from outside.

I peeked through the narrow gap at the base of the door, seeing the shadow of Shoupe's boots.

''If he sees you, that's game over,'' JJ muttered, his eyes darting between John B and me.

''I know, okay?'' John B hissed back.

''You need to come out and talk to me! It'll be a whole lot worse if you don't.'' Shoupe's tone was firm, authoritative.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made me flinch, my pulse racing. I held my breath, listening as the engine roared to life and the vehicle rumbled away down the dirt road.

''He's gone,'' John B breathed, pushing himself out from under the table. I followed, brushing the dust off my jeans.

''For now,'' I added, straightening up and glancing out the window just to be sure.

JJ stood, his signature grin creeping back onto his face as if the tension had never existed. ''All right, I've got a plan,'' he started, rubbing his hands together.

''No.'' John B raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. ''Wait. What plan?''

I crossed my arms, tilting my head. ''Yeah, JJ, care to elaborate? Because the last time you had a 'plan,' it involved duct tape, a chainsaw, and a goat. And I don't think we've fully recovered from that.''

JJ's grin widened. ''First of all, the goat thing worked out great—''

''The goat ate all my dad's fishing gear,'' I interrupted.

''Details, Mavie,'' JJ shrugged, unfazed. ''This time's different. I swear.''

John B rubbed his temples, visibly trying to keep his patience intact. ''Just spill it, JJ.''

JJ threw his hands up in mock exasperation. ''Man, no faith in me at all. This is why I don't share my plans!''

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

WE PULLED UP outside Rockfish, the kind of place that screamed trouble before you even set foot inside. I glanced over at John B as he cut the engine.

''Oh, perfect. Rockfish. The place you go to bash beer bottles on people's heads,'' John B muttered, stepping out of the van. 

''There's a guy here, that's always here, moves a lot of weight. My dad worked for him,'' JJ announced, hopping out of the van.

''No, no, wait, wait,'' John B said quickly, holding up a hand as if he could physically stop JJ from whatever reckless plan was forming. ''Please don't say Barracuda Mike."

''Okay, I won't,'' JJ replied, already making his way to the bar.

John B let out a heavy sigh and shot me a look that said, Here we go again. ''Come on,'' he grumbled, climbing out. I followed him, my boots crunching on the gravel as we trailed after JJ.

''There's gotta be a better option than this,'' John B tried again as we approached the door.

JJ spun around, walking backward with his hands out dramatically. ''Oh, you know what? You're right. There is a better option. Except there's not. All right, dude? Seriously, we don't have a whole lot of time, and your dad needs help right now, and this guy is gonna be the key to getting down to South America ASAP. Trust me on this one. Let me do the talking, okay?''

The heavy bass from inside the bar vibrated through the ground as we stepped onto the warped wooden deck. JJ shoved open the door, the sharp scent of stale beer and cigarettes hitting me like a wall.

We followed JJ to a corner where Mike sat with a couple of guys, a knife in his hand carving slow, deliberate grooves into the table. He looked up as JJ called out.

''Yo, Mike! Yo!'' JJ greeted, a nervous laugh bubbling up as he approached. ''You remember me, right? It's on the tip of your tongue. J—''

''Luke's kid,'' Mike interrupted, driving the knife into the wood with a sharp thunk.

I flinched at the sound, my heart skipping a beat. My hand instinctively gripped the strap of my bag, and I had to remind myself to keep my expression neutral. John B placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. I glanced at him, grateful for the silent reassurance.

''That works too,'' JJ said, recovering quickly. ''Uh, also go by JJ. But this here are my good friends, John B and Mavis.''

''Hey,'' John B greeted casually.

''Hi,'' I added, my voice a little too soft. I forced a small wave, my fingers trembling slightly.

Mike's eyes flicked to each of us, sharp and calculating. ''Routledge,'' he said, pointing at John B. Then his gaze shifted to me. ''Kentala.''

Hearing my dad's last name from him sent a chill down my spine. I nodded stiffly, not trusting myself to speak again.

''In the flesh. Yep,'' John B said.

''Heard stories about you three,'' Mike said, leaning back in his chair, his knife still embedded in the table.

''Uh oh,'' John B replied, attempting a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

JJ jumped in, his words tumbling out quickly. ''I mean, he's a stone-cold cop k-killer,'' he stammered, his eyes darting to the towering man standing silently beside Mike. The guy was built like a tank.

''No, I'm not,'' John B denied firmly.

''Mike, I'm gonna be honest about why we're here, okay?'' JJ began, his hands gesturing animatedly. ''We're a little bit in a... a patch of trouble, and we're trying to get down to South America if that's—''

''I'm sorry, slick, but I done sold the traveling agency,'' Mike cut in. JJ laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

''Well, I mean, we're not looking for some free handout here, all right?'' JJ said quickly. ''We understand it's a two-way road. Symbiotic relationship.''

''Yes, yes,'' John B chimed in, nodding in agreement.

JJ pressed on. ''That's what we're trying to get at. We just need to parlee—''

''Parley,'' John B corrected under his breath. ''Parley is what he's saying.''

''Parley in, um... in private, if that's cool with you,'' JJ finished, his voice firm despite the nerves I could see in his posture.

Mike's gaze lingered on us for a moment before he stood, gesturing for JJ to follow him. ''Just stay here,'' JJ told us over his shoulder.

''No, you're not gonna do this,'' John B said, his voice rising slightly as JJ moved to follow Mike. ''You're not gonna leave us here.''

The towering man shifted, blocking JJ's path momentarily. ''Excuse you. All right,'' JJ muttered, sidestepping him to catch up with Mike.

John B and I exchanged uneasy glances. I shifted on my feet, the weight of the man's stare making my skin crawl. ''Yeah, so, uh, what do you... what do you guys catch out here?'' John B asked after a tense moment.

''Money,'' the tall guy replied bluntly.

That was our cue to shut up. John B and I didn't need to say a word to agree on that. The silence stretched between us as we waited.

As JJ returned, a lopsided grin plastered across his face, the tension in the air dissipated slightly. He approached us with his usual swagger.

''5:30,'' Mike informed us.

''5:30 tonight,'' JJ echoed, brushing off the exchange as though it was just another minor errand. ''We'll be there. Yes, sir.''

I crossed my arms, watching the interaction unfold.

''Anyways, nice to meet you fellas,'' John B added, his tone polite but eager to leave.

''Hey, let's go. Come on,'' JJ insisted, already tugging at John B's arm like a restless kid pulling his friend out of a boring conversation.

I fell into step behind them, my boots crunching against the dirt road as we made our way back to the Twinkie. I glanced at JJ as he continued to walk ahead.

''Okay, what do we gotta do?'' John B finally asked, breaking the silence as we neared the van.

JJ turned, his grin widening. ''Just a little something.''

''A little something?'' John B repeated, his brows furrowing. 

''Yeah,'' JJ replied casually, shrugging as though it really was nothing.

''Every time you say 'a little something,' it's never a little something,'' John B countered.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly at that. ''He's not wrong, JJ.''

JJ waved off our concerns, clearly unbothered. ''All right, listen. It's literally the easiest job in the world, bro.''

John B groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. ''Easy for you to say. Easy for me usually means running for my life.''

''We just unload it,'' JJ explained, hopping up onto the edge of the Twinkie's passenger seat as though the whole thing was a game. ''You know what they do on planes? On Delta and United when they take the bags off of the—that's what we're doing, okay?'' He gestured dramatically, trying to sell his plan.

''That's all?'' I questioned, raising an eyebrow. ''It sounds a little too straightforward for you, JJ. Where's the catch?''

''No catch, Vivi,'' he shot back with a playful smirk. ''Once we do that, we punch our tickets, head off to South America, sipping on piña coladas. It's a piece of cake.''

''Piece of cake, huh?'' John B muttered, clearly unconvinced.

JJ tossed the keys over to him, the metal jangling in the air before John B caught them with a practiced motion. ''You're driving,'' JJ declared before plopping into the passenger seat.

I climbed into the back, settling onto the worn cushions that smelled faintly of salt and sweat. ''JJ, your definition of easy has gotten us into trouble more times than I can count,'' I teased, leaning forward slightly so he could hear me. ''This better not end with us running from Ward or... I don't know, the Coast Guard.''

JJ spun around in his seat, his expression mock-offended. ''Come on, Mavie, where's the trust?''

''Buried under a pile of all the insane stunts you've pulled,'' I retorted.

''She's got a point,'' John B chimed in, starting the van. The engine roared to life, and I felt the familiar hum of the Twinkie beneath me.

''You're both going to thank me later. Trust me on this one,'' JJ insisted, kicking his feet up on the dashboard.

I leaned back, glancing out the window as the van rumbled down the dirt road. 

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