Out of Play

“Holy shit.” She sits up so fast her feet slap on the old wood. “Why didn’t you say anything? Have you written back?”

I slide my foot across the bleachers, staring down. “Wasn’t sure how to talk about it yet.” His words have been rattling around in my head for weeks.

“Have you written back? Like…are you two conversing?” She leans in, eyes filled with excitement.

All his words hit me again like punches to the chest. “He went to rehab. Told me everything. Hated how he left things… It took me a while to answer. Like two weeks. But we’ve been writing. A little.”

Becca sips her Diet Coke, still staring, waiting for more story.

“I don’t know what we are.” I set my feet on the bench in front of me just for something to do. Mostly his letters make me hate him and miss him all at once. I don’t know what to do with so much emotion.

She pokes my side. “Look at you. You’re all affected.”

I finally find the end of the tape and start to tug. Anything to keep my hands busy while we’re talking about things I don’t know how to talk about. “Shut up and help me with the duct tape, would you?”

Becca’s grin is completely giddy. “He’s writing you. You’re writing back. You’re so sunk.”

I stand up and turn as she continues to pull on the tape, wincing every time we go over my bare arm. Assholes. Seriously. “Nope. Not sunk. I’m actually not going to complain about you dressing me because I need a normal boyfriend at college, not someone who makes me crazy.”

She scoffs. “Whatever, Pe

I freeze. Am I?

Chapter Twenty-seven

Bishop

“Thanks for meeting with me, you guys.” I look at Don sitting behind his desk. The rest of my bandmates are in chairs, but I’m standing by the door. I think they’ve known this was coming. I knew it was coming, and I thought it would be harder. Being in a band was always my dream, and I’m not stupid enough to think I won’t miss it, but leaving is what I need. It’s what’s best for me.

“No problem, B.R.” Blake says. He’s the only one besides Don who might get my decision. The only one who comes over to jam with me for no reason. That’s cool. There’ve been enough fake people in my life. I’m ready for real.

Twirling my drumsticks between my fingers, I start to talk. “I’m out, you guys. I know it’s shitty timing, but I also know Don’s smart enough to have a backup plan.” When I look at him again, I get a nod. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Seriously?” Chase, our guitarist, spits out. “When you checked into rehab and weren’t getting out ‘til after our first few shows, we pushed back the whole fucking tour for you.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that, but I don’t think it’s smart for me to go out there. I don’t want to go out there… It’s… I can’t do it anymore.” Ever since I got out, I’ve been all over the headlines. Exactly like Don said, rehab is hard to keep quiet. Paparazzi follow me. Old pictures of me are splattered all over magazines. “The media will be a distraction for you guys, too. It’s better for us all.”

Chase looks at me like he’s really confused. “Don’t pretend you’re doing this for us. We’ve had your back this whole time for nothing.”

Regardless of what he says, I know this is the right choice.

Blake stands up. “No matter what you want to do, I’ll support you, but you love to play, B.R. You’re the best I’ve seen. Are you sure you want to throw that away?”

I think about the nights on the road. The girls, the parties, the drugs. The pressure, the fights. And then I think how my heart feels alive when I’m sitting behind my drums, keeping rhythm for the guys. How it feels when we nail a new song. “I can still love to play. I can still do it, but…I don’t know. It’s different now. There are other ways to keep music in my life.”

Blake nods. “Yeah… I know. You ever want to come back, we’re cool. You got that?” He gives me a hug, slapping me on the back. The rest of the guys tell me good luck, shake my hand. All surface stuff. There are a lot of people like that in the world, and I’m done surrounding myself with them.

When it’s only me and Don in the office, he speaks for the first time. “You’re under contract.”

“I know.”

He huffs. “We’ll get it worked out. Have to take care of yourself and all that shit.” He doesn’t look any more sincere than he sounds, but I know he is.

I nod and walk away. Almost to the door, I turn to him. “Thanks, Don. For having the balls to send me away. I never would have gone if you didn’t make me.”

For the first time ever, I get a smile out of him. “You have problems with your dad, still come to me, okay? I’ll help you work it out.”

His words settle into me, build me up. There are more people here for me than I used to think. “If I can do anything for you, too, you know I’m here.”

“I know and…you did good, kid. You did good.”

The kid doesn’t even bother me this time.

Gary texts me as I’m about to leave the building.

PAPS ARE OUTSIDE.

Fucking paparazzi. They’re always sniffing around for something.

Without much choice, I push through the door.

“What are you doing here, Bishop?”

“The whole band was here?”

“How do you think you’ll handle your addiction while on the road?”

“Are you still in Burn?”

A few camera flashes go off. Doing my best to ignore them, I jog to Gary’s SUV and get in. “Asshole.”

He chuckles and pulls away from the curb. “Hello to you, too.”

“You know I wasn’t talking to you.” I watch the paparazzi while we drive away. “Thanks for the ride. I can’t believe you’re on time. Troy must not have been home.”

“Don’t be a hater, Ripe. I’m not always with him.”

I’m quiet because we both know he’s full of it.

“Okay, fine. So I’m always with him—when he’s not with you that is. He’s going to be bummed to lose his workout buddy.”

“Me too. He’s cool.” We even know how to talk to each other now. When I need to talk to someone who’s been where I am, Troy is there.

“He had to go out of town. I won’t have you to keep me busy, either.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. I knew something had to be up. But I also remember that as much as Gary never wants to be away from Troy, he left him for months for me. Would have stayed longer. Would probably go back if I asked him, too. He’s probably the best friend I have. I’m okay with that. “Bad timing, huh?”

Gary shakes his head. “Absolutely not. This is your life, Ripe, and I’m stoked for you.” He pauses for a second. “Have you talked to her?”

I know exactly who “her” is. I also knew this was coming. “Same as it has been. We email back and forth a little. It took her a while to answer my first one, but I didn’t give up.”

Gary chuckles. “Push your way back into her life? You’ve always been such a cocky jerk.” There’s teasing in his voice.

“I’m cocky for good reason. But no…not pushing my way anywhere. I like talking to her. Maybe one day, I can really apologize to her.”

He tries to weave through traffic on the 405 Freeway. “Look at you. You’re all sentimental now.”

“I can still kick your ass, though. Keep talking shit, and I will.”

“So violent.” He teases. “She still doesn’t know, though, right?”

Traffic piles up around us. “Nope.” Let’s hope that doesn’t backfire. “You shouldn’t have gone this way. I hate this freeway.” Not like all freeways around here aren’t bad, though.

“You wa

“Sure.”

“Shut up.” He gives the line of cars ahead of us the evil eye. “Ugh! Traffic sucks.”

We’re at a dead stop. It’s always like this. And it’s hot, too. I put my feet on the dashboard. “Wake me up when we get there.”