Drugs, Treasons and Other Demons

54. LOVE IS A DRUG

"Juan told me everything."

A shiver gripped my body, like two cold hands on my shoulders. My legs went numb, my jaw fell limp, my eyes felt like they were melting out of my face. A piece of pepperoni sloughed off of my slice of pizza, trembling between my fingers, and fell onto my knees.

"He did?" I whimpered.

"Yes, he did," Pablo replied. "Now I want to know why you didn't tell me."

I scoffed, and swallowed back a sob. It was obvious why I wouldn't tell him. The minute he find out what I had told Juan, he'd shoot a bullet between my eyes, or pour some poison on my pizza. He'd wrap a hand around my neck, squeezing until I'd expire my last breath. He could throw me off a building, or something worse even. Something evil, something spectacular, because in his eyes, such a treason deserved a painful death.

"I knew–" I stammered, as heaving gulps chopped up my words. "I thought that you would kill me if you knew."

"Why the fuck would I kill you?" Pablo chortled.

A wry smile stretched on his lips, and his brow furrowed a little. It was just a soft wrinkle, a hint of confusion, but there wasn't a shadow of anger on his face. Why the fuck isn't he mad? I thought to myself. And why the fuck am I not dead?

I finally realized, just one sentence too late, that Pablo and I weren't talking about the same secret.

The drugs. I was taking drugs. That was what Juan told him. That was the only secret I was keeping. Nothing else, nothing worse. Juan had said he knew nothing about Emilia Kovács, and I had to trust him.

"Because I was stealing the pills from you," I answered.

Pablo stayed silent, and so did I. I waited until he spoke, fidgeting with my hands, waiting to see if he'd believe that lie, or if I'd fucked it all up.

"What made you think that?" he asked, as he placed his hand on mine.

"I don't know," I breathed. "Now that I think of it, I feel stupid."

"Don't say that," he whispered. "You're anything but stupid."

My lips twisted into a faint, self-pitying smile. Pablo was right. I wasn't stupid at all. I was actually pretty clever, and honestly quite proud of myself. My answer hadn't just fixed the slip of my tongue, it could also help me hide the bigger secret.

Because if Juan had told him everything, and everything could only mean the fact that I was taking drugs, that meant that I wasn't hiding anything else from Pablo. If he had even a small suspicion that I had told Juan the truth about who I was, then that doubt would be gone. Everything would work out fine, as long as Juan kept his mouth shut.

A tear of relief escaped from the corner of my eye, and Pablo gently wiped it off with his thumb.

"Please don't cry," he murmured. "Did you really think I'd kill you over a couple of pills?"

"Not just a couple," I mumbled. "It's been going on for a while."

"How long?"

"Two weeks, I think, but I'm not sure," I gulped. "Could be more, could be less."

I shook my head, and looked down at my feet, holding back the grin that itched at my face. Pablo couldn't know just how blissful I felt. Here she was again, the Hollywood starlet, the acting skills I'd perfected when I was trying to fool Juan into thinking I was a spy, holding back my laughter and concealing my lies.

It was euphoric, almost better than drugs, like stepping off a rollercoaster that nearly made you spill out your guts. It was a weight off my shoulders, it lifted the pit out of my stomach, and sent a breath of fresh air rushing to my lungs.