Die In California

54

Devyn's POV:

"JP what's this?" I innocently asked as I held up a small baggy of pills, though I knew exactly what they were.
We were just over a month away from the release of Bloom, with the projected release date being early-to-mid May, and things had been going great. I'd settled in at the new house, the dogs had too, and Casie had even come to visit! I was keeping in touch with the tattoo studio, and things seemed to be running smoothly over there. 

Just before I left, I employed a young woman (fresh out of high school, and having only just finished her training) named Reagan, who brought along a friend called Peyton for moral support - it was a bonus that he was a tattoo artist and needed some money. The two of them easily settled in with the others, and I was glad to see that Reagan was happy working with three other guys. I'd also enlisted Alex to be the manager while I was away, which he was happily taking on the role of.

It felt weird to not be in the studio every day, and to have much more time on my hands than I needed. But it meant that I could dedicate my attention to training Luna - who had started to become a little shit after figuring out she'd get attention for being naughty. Chapo tended to watch on from the couch, as I chased the twenty two week old puppy around, trying to rag one of Slim's socks from her mouth. It was all fun and games, to her.

"What d'ya mean?" JP called out as he wandered up to the bedroom, where I was standing beside his chest of drawers with a little clear baggy between my fingers. I'd been looking through his sock drawer for a pair that would fit, since, once again, I'd forgotten to do the laundry. That was when I found the pills, under a pile of socks - the worst hiding place known to man. Could he have been any more cliché?!

"What're these?" I asked again, trying to keep myself composed. He walked through the door to his bedroom, a look of confusion on his face. But that soon drained once his eyes drifted to the bag. He tried to maintain an impartial expression, but I caught the flicker of fear and guilt in his eyes. "I- I don't know-" He began, giving the impression that he was completely oblivious. But I knew better.

"-You don't know? How come I found them in your drawer, and you don't know what they are, then? Hell, I know what they are." I stressed. Every second that passed, another crack in my composure formed. If he didn't own up soon, I was about to fucking lose my shit. 

"I- okay, alright. I'm just holdin' them for a friend." JP shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, as if that was the normal thing to do. As if holding drugs - ecstasy pills at that - was a completely normal occurrence, for practically everyone. As if.

"You know how I feel about this shit! Why the fuck would you do this?" I sighed, dropping the baggy onto the bed. I didn't believe him, not one bit, but for my own sanity I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he could wholeheartedly back his argument, then I'd go along with it. "I know, and I'm sorry." He sighed, his head dropping forward - in either regret or guilt, it was hard to tell.

"He said it would only be for a little while." JP shrugged, as if that would make it any better. I looked across at him with an 'are you fucking serious' expression, before shaking my head as I bit my tongue. I couldn't blow up on him.

After our dream, we'd paid extra attention to our communication, and tried to avoid any sort of arguments. Of course we still had petty arguments, ones that were over and done within an hour. And we always made sure to never go to sleep angry at each other, or if one of us was to leave, we'd make sure the other knew of our whereabouts and that we weren't staying out for long.

But at that moment, when I'd found the pills I was once all too familiar with, I'd never found it so hard to keep myself from arguing with him. In fact, I'd never felt so disappointed in him before. It felt weird to be feeling this way towards him, but I didn't know how else to feel. I'd not exactly caught him in a good position, and he didn't exactly have a well-evidenced argument to prove my suspicions wrong.