chapter eleven / salted wounds

Wrappers of cherry starbursts littered the top sheets as Ilyshah drifted in and out of sleep, the consequences of a liquorlip fuelled night giving way to a haze filled wakeful reality. The doorbell's marimba tore her out of the vicious cycle, leaving her pillow to soak up the reverberation of low groans.

She turned to face Spencer Fishers still dead asleep with one leg hanging off the bed, curls hooded over his eyes leaving a trail of soft snores. Sparing him a 2AM intervention with his parents, her room revived its status as a halfway five star last resort for the lawless teenage boys of the Outerbanks. Stay for the midnight munchies, leave before getting caught by uncle Kahu until the adhesive of the bandaid solution wears off again, rinse and repeat.

  As the doorbell chime echoed down the empty halls with no sign of winding down anytime soon, Ilyshah hauled herself out of bed in a haste — falling victim to the charger cord by tripping and cursing aloud as she stubbed her toe on the bed frame. Hopping over to the pile of clothes carelessly left in the corner, she seized the first thing from the top and fumbled with the buttons as she puttered down the floating oak washed stairs until she ended the doors marimba with an abrupt swing of the door.

JJ Maybank stood on the other side, his bright gaze sweeping over her. At the traces of mascara smudged into the contours of her vacant eyes, her frizzed hair gone static, the half done up shirt over her crochet shorts and a pink crop peeking out printed with Beach Bum !

  He drew a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth. "Rough night?" he cocked his head to the side, grocery bags double-parked in his grasp with his aviators tucked into the distressed collar of his muscle tank. "You realize it's past lunchtime, right?" He wiggled his eyebrows amusingly.

  Ilyshah swayed on her tiptoes as she suddenly became awkward in her own skin, her voice reclaiming its raspiness. "You kept your promise."

   "Pogues always keep their promises."

   She clicked her tongue as she counted six plastic bags weighing down his arms, "guess I can call you a girl scout now too," she remarked, stepping aside to welcome him in.

    "What can I say princess," JJ waltzed over to the island bench and settled down the bags with a stifled grunt, "just doing my part for the rich assholes around here."

    "Hey, those are my people you're talking about," she joked wryly then let an excited gasp as she unpacked the bags and cradled the packet of bahama breeze raro drink mix to her chest before giving it a kiss. "Chur, Heyward is such a g."

"Want help with all of this?"

She narrowed her eyes at him with a playful smirk. "Eh, trying to get a big tip out of me?"

  "I've been told that's a given on account of my charm," he teased as they began neatly stacking the walk in pantry together, one that looked straight out of an Architectural Digest tour with pristinely packed jars of spices, pasta and snacks.

A cyclonic tangerine dream brewed from the raro satchet in the limoncello painted ceramic jug as ice cubes clinked against the edges from the brass spoon. Ilyshah watched with bated breath as JJ downed the entire glass of it, covering her smile with both palms.

He gave an audible exhale of satisfaction as he put down the glass. "Hot damn, that shit's good," he commented as she slapped the counter with a beaming grin.

"Okay but you're not only saying this because it's me, right?" she leaned over the counter with her dimples on full show.

He pressed a palm to his heart. "Scouts honour," then drummed his ring clad knuckles across the marble surface as she hastily raised the glass to her lips to cover the heat washing over her cheeks then lowered his voice. "So uh, we got a hold of that drone – been testing it this morning and everything."

   Her eyes widened as she coughed on the passion tanged juice and wiped her lips. "Erm, probably best not to talk about it here."

   "Why not? Yo, your house got tapped?" His eyes widened comically as she screwed up her face.

As she followed JJ's shifted line of sight it landed on Spencer waltzing in sans shirt, halting for a second both from shock and to shield his eyes from the sunlight beaming through the glass door before the corners of his lips turned upwards. "Oh shit... J fucking J Maybank."

Ilyshah curled her upper lip in annoyance as JJ's eyes quickly darted between Spencer clad in only a pair of salmon board shorts to the white oversized linen shirt hugging her body and subtly cocked his eyebrows. "Fish, how's it going bro?"

"Ah, you know," he sighed, opening the fridge door casually as his voice became muffled from sticking his head inside, "living the dream," he spread out his arms with a slice of cold pizza they ordered the night before in one hand then his eyes lit up at the jug laid before him. "Shit Lysh, you got raro—have you tried this JJ? It's killer for hangovers." He mumbled through the chews of pepperoni pizza as she silently wandered off.

   Ilyshah called out from the laundry room off the kitchen, their murmurs growing distant in the background. "Spence, can you help me with something?" As he walked into the confined space, she slammed the door behind him. "You have to go."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause now JJ thinks we slept together you egg," she flicked him on the forehead eliciting a sharp hiss.

He rubbed his forehead with a grimace, mumbling through the last chews of his pizza. "Gross. Why do you care so much about what he thinks?"

"I don't care," she shrunk down with a soured frown, "you're just — you gotta go, I don't want to babysit your stink arse anymore."

  "Well, I'm gonna need my shirt back," he blankly stated.

    She scowled in distaste before unbuttoning his shirt, "shouldn't have even come out half naked, you'd be dead if uncle saw that," she muttered then pitched it towards him to catch.

   "You guys gonna mack on each other when I leave?" asked Spencer, mirroring her expression of disgust.

"No!" She harshly whispered, delivering a light slap to his shoulder. "Go anywhere right now... wait no," she halted him before he could turn on his heel and held out her finger. "Anywhere but Rafe's, okay? Sober up, take my board with you and we'll meet at the beach for surf class."

He scoffed slightly, then widened his eyes as he caught her deathly glare. "Yes, sir."

A whole minute passed after Spencer left, giving Ilyshah enough time to know she looked a mess in the distorted reflection of the washing machine door. She tugged on her half soaked bathers and redressed, rubbed under her eyes to melt away the remnants of last night and attempted to tame her hair before casually waltzing back into the kitchen. As she did, JJ stared back at her from where he was sat with a glint of amusement in his eyes as he pointed his thumb backwards.

"Did you just... kick Spencer out?"

Ilyshah scoffed under her breath. "No way, he had some," she squinted her eyes in thought, "urgent appointment."

"Oh, I see," JJ hummed peppily, "some Kook convention at The Island Club probably."

"Probably," she agreed with an innocent shrug and slung the tote hanging off the chair over her shoulder as he nodded slowly with a smirk plastered across his face. "Come on, you must have some girl scout deliveries left for me to help you with."

He followed her out through the back patio to the sprawling green lawns. "Turns out I save the best for last."

She clicked her tongue. "Eoh, that's a shame. I have some pretty sweet guns for all those grocery bags y'know," she flexed her arm mockingly in his face as JJ swatted it away with a chuckle.

"You're finally awake, thought you'd sleep forever," Uncle Kahu boomed from the pool house as Ilyshah gave him a deadpanned expression on approach. "Didn't know you were working today JJ."

JJ straightened, growing an extra inch. "Just delivering for Heyward today, sir."

Ilyshah chimed in, "we have raro now, undool."

"Good man," Kahu patted his shoulder with a warm smile and steered back to the pool house. "One minute my bro I'll get your tip — aye junior, can you grab my wallet too?"

"Is this it boss?" A deep voice asked as his towering figure ducked out of the pool house door, his distinct familiarity making JJ's eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"I can't believe I just met the Jerry Rice," JJ exclaimed as they paced to his dirt bike parked in the driveway, "wait until Pope sees this sweet ass autograph," he bounced slightly, referring to the back of his peeling leather wallet signed in sharpie.

   "Are you fanboying right now?"

   "Ilyshah, he's a goated wide receiver — goated," he replied then raised his right hand, "I'm never washing this hand, ever."

    Ilyshah held in a giggle venturing through her chest. "And I'm never touching that hand, ever," she quipped, her laugh bubbling up as she slapped his hand away from her face.

"Alright princess," JJ patted the seat of his bike, "hop aboard the noble steed."

    The skin of her calf sizzled as it came in contact with the overheated metal exhaust. She had only ridden a dirt bike once with Spencer and vowed to never get on one again after nearly crashing it but she couldn't say no when JJ sacrificed his helmet to her head and promised to go slow.

Adrenaline from meeting his sports hero got the better of him however as he raced through the streets of Figure Eight, Ilyshah only hoped he couldn't feel her heart racing against his back as she clung to his waist. The wind lapped up the ends of her hair uncovered by the helmet, obstructing her view through the visor of the lush golf club blurring into the leafy backstreets of The Cut until they pulled up before a docked commercial crabbing boat.

"Eh, you promised you'd go slow,"  Ilyshah lifted the helmet off and softly jabbed his arm.

    JJ chuckled as he juggled the keys taken out of the ignition. "C'mon, I wanna catch Pope's face when he sees this," he eagerly soared down the wooden dock as Ilyshah followed behind, amused by his child-like spirit calling out. "Pope! Dude, you are not going to believe what just happened to me, man! Whoo — that was the best one hundred bucks I've ever made!"

  "When I say count me in on all these deliveries Pope, I mean it," he continued, bursting into the cockpit with an out-of-breath Ilyshah catching up behind after she stumbled upon a broken plastic bag with food spilled out on the back deck.

   Pope sullenly gazed out at the ripples of the marsh as the boat pushed forward, detached from his body with no emotion penetrating the walls.

    "What's up with you? Bro, you good?" asked JJ as he leaned forward to scrutinise Pope's appearance and startled Ilyshah with his exclamation as he lifted his cap to reveal the deepening grazed wound on his hairline. "Jesus! What happened?"

   "Rafe and Topper jumped me," he bluntly responded with streaks of tears dried down his cheeks. "They said no Pogues on their side of the island."

A pained silence fell over the air as Ilyshah read every line on JJ's face from his clenched jaw and flared nostrils all the way down his knuckles whitening around the wallet in his death grip.

   "What are you gonna do?" JJ probed him as the two shared an indecipherable glance then swapped places at the helm.

       "Only a small detour miss, we'll have to skip a few waves."

   Ilyshah frowned at JJ, "where are we going?"

     "You'll see."

"2020 Malibu, 24 MXZ. The world's finest wakesetter — number one in quality, luxury and performance."

"This is war, Pope. They hit us, we hit them."

The sun still shone high on the tide as Pope Heyward peeled off his button-up shirt and chucked his hat to the side before diving in towards his target. JJ spun around to reassure Ilyshah lying low against the deck walls, aviators shading his eyes and the rest of his face masked by a bandana as he gave her a thumbs up only for her to respond with a roll of the eyes.

Boys and their absence of impulse control lead to a world at wars end — a lull of vengeance sounding before the one behind the gun fires the first shot and brings the island down to its knees. As Topper's boat sunk into the depths of the marsh in a reckless third act and Pope resurfaced with a drain plug at the high praises of JJ, consequences of lost friendships and burnt bridges ran through Ilyshah's mind at a celerity if her complicity were to be exposed.

    "JJ, you two can't tell anybody," Pope breathlessly urged.

      "Oh no, yeah, totally dude."

   "No, I'm serious dude. Not Kie, not John B," Pope reiterated, his eyes darting between JJ and Ilyshah, "nobody."

     "Yup, our lips are sealed. Give me that, give me that," JJ fumbled with the wakesetter's drain plug before launching it into the open water then pointing at Ilyshah as they ran back into the cockpit to flee the scene. "Especially this one... your lips are sealed, right princess?"

    "Seems you haven't left me much of a choice," she slapped down her arms upon joining them. "Why'd we have to do that?"

   JJ sighed impatiently, chewing into his bottom lip out of frustration as Pope quietly shuffled in discomfort at the helm. "It's the law of the jungle, Ilyshah. Kooks hit us twice now, we're not just gonna take it. We send a message."

     "I get it, alright? I know those douche rags are your friends," he continued as she shot a quick glance at the softening bruise across Pope's back.

Ilyshah stepped up to him. "Rafe and Topper aren't my friends — but Sarah is, and I don't want to lose her if we get caught."

"Then it'll be our little secret. Not like she knows you're slumming it with us yet anyway," he retorted as he perched himself up on the front bench seat, playing a game of toss with his pocket knife.

"We'll be fine. Just deny, deny, deny."

I. mai speaks

back after two months hellaurrr i can't believe how long it took me to write, rewrite and edit this chapter butttt i hope you all enjoy nonetheless !!

lmk if you are enjoying by voting and commenting as you know it means the world to me and motivates me to write more, i couldn't be more grateful for everyone's support so far ilyyy 🫶🏼