Out of Play

About ten steps later, I’m in the tiny bedroom off the main room of the cabin. There’s a beanie on the chair, which I slip on. I turn for the door, but something stops me. I don’t know what it is. My anger, a

Right now, I need more than I’m prescribed.

It’s just because I’m trapped in this snowbound hell, I tell myself as I swallow it dry, grab my jacket from the living room, and then head outside. If I take these instead of going to Gary, maybe he’ll report to my parole officer, AKA, Don that I’m doing well and can go home.

There should not be this much snow anywhere. It comes all the way up to my knees. White and trees is all I see for…well, for as far as I can see. The drugs are starting to kick in. I already feel the tightness in my muscles start to lessen.

I glance over at the cabin next door just as Gary steps out. His cell glued to his ear, probably whispering sweet nothings to Troy or whatever it is they do. “What are you doing?” he calls to me.

Really? Walking is supposed to be part of my “therapy”. Not that he’s let me do it alone yet. Does he think I’m going to buy something from the moose on the corner? “I’m pretty sure it’s called walking. Maybe you remember it. We spoke about doing it every day. Don’t worry. I’m not leaving, Dad.”

He gives me a huge smile and a wave, like he’s the happiest person in the world.

And now I suddenly want to puke. Nice.

As I trudge through the snow, the shaking eases up, and I actually feel like I can breathe. Still, it’s not as good as the smog-filled air in L.A. Yeah, I said that. It’s almost like things are too clear up here, if that makes any sense.

Or maybe I’m going crazy. I heard people get depressed in Alaska since it’s dark like ninety percent of the time.

I head for the far end of the property and toward the freaking wilderness, wishing someone had told me to buy some boots before I got here, but the last thing I want is to end up as breaking news. I can see the headline now: Teen drummer Bishop Riley of the band Burn missing in the Alaskan wilderness, while his “babysitter” was busy on the phone with his boyfriend and his mom and manager were partying it up in the land of freaking normalcy without him.

I make a quick u-turn to avoid finding one of those sleeping bears Gary was talking about. My feet are cold as hell as I pass my cabin again and start toward the main house—if you can call it a house. I’ve never seen anything like it with all the different floors and obvious additions. I mean, it looks kind of cool, but also makes me wonder if we’re renting cabins from a bunch of nutcases.

I’m walking around the other side of the house when I see the leggy blonde standing by a kickass Corvette. Deprived as I am, I take a minute to admire them both. I’ve seen her come and go a few times. Not close enough to see her face, but the rest of her is gorgeous. Her hair is just past her shoulders, stick straight, and I swear it’s only a few shades darker than the snow.

She’s tall. Taller than I usually go for, but not too tall to appreciate. She’s curvy in all the right places. Yeah, definitely something to appreciate.

And the car? The car is incredible, too. For the first time in a while, I remember the 1970 Ford Ranchero sitting in my garage back home. It’s one of the first things I bought when we got signed. I’ve always wanted one, a piece of shit I could fix up myself. If I weren’t a drummer, that’s what I’d do: rebuild cars.

The plan is already set on what I want to do to mine. She’ll be incredible once I ever get a chance to work on her. She’s been sitting there for over a year.

Why haven’t I worked on my car?

The Snow Queen pushes off the car, and I try to turn so she doesn’t realize I was staring at her, but she catches my eye before I get a chance.

Two thoughts slam into me at once. First, she’s unreal beautiful. Not plastic in the way the girls I know are. Big eyes, slim lips and a nice little smile. And second, I totally don’t feel like talking to her. I’m out of my element here. The last thing I’m in the mood for right now is trying to befriend the locals. Plus, she might recognize me, and that’ll make things a whole lot worse. I should have grabbed the hat Gary bought me instead of the beanie. Obviously that would make a huge difference.

If I thought it would get me home, I’d tell her who I am, but knowing Don, he’ll find a way to blame me and I’ll get sent somewhere even worse. Though I’m not sure where would be worse than being in the snowy wilderness with no real civilization.

Shoving my hands in my pocket, I move to turn away when I hear, “Hey!”

“Damn,” I mumble under my breath before I start to walk her way. Maybe she can let me know who delivers all the way out here. Chinese sounds bomb.

“What’s up?” I nod my head before looking toward the ground. I’m awesome at disguises.

I hear her chuckle and glance up at her to see her eyes are on my feet. Yeah, I know I’m not wearing the right shoes. She doesn’t have to be cocky about it. “Something fu

“No, no.” She tries to play it off, but I can still see the smirk lingering. “Can you help me with something real quick?” she asks, while I’m busy watching her face. Trying to look for any signs that she recognizes who I am.

“Sure.” I shrug, finding the ground again with my eyes. She leads me to a huge toolbox—one of those tall, heavy ones.

“I’m Pe

“Bishop Ri—” Oh, shit. I forgot I’m not supposed to use my full name. I look at her as she licks her bright red lips. “Ripe.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “Bishop Ripe?”

Yeah. So I’m an idiot. Who gives a shit? “Problem with that?”

Pe

“I need to roll this over to the car, but the wheels are messed up. Sometimes they fall off, so can you stay on the other side just in case?” Her voice is kind of a mix of snark and sweet—the sweet feels like a contrast to her strong, tall build. And somehow, I have a feeling the quiet sweetness is her camouflage. Like she’s a black widow or something and could bite my head off at any second. Or maybe I’m being paranoid because I’m in the land of Ice Road Truckers.

“I’ll push it over for you.” The car’s at the end of the garage, but it’s a slight decline.

“If only one person could do it, I wouldn’t need your help. If you wa

“It’ll be fine,” I tell her before getting behind it and pushing. Seriously, how many people does it take to push a toolbox?

“Whatever you say.” She stands back and smirks, like she knows a private joke I’m not a part of.

Holding my end I start to walk. The thing slides as easily as it should and I start to wonder if she really just wanted an excuse to talk to me or something.

I keep pushing and walking, when suddenly the front wheels fall off and the thing to comes to a dead stop.

Unfortunately for me, I don’t have super breaks and can’t stop that quickly. My head rams right into the stupid metal box in front of me. “Shit!” I grab my nose, which pulses with pain.

“Oh my God!” The Snow Queen steps toward me, but I hold my other hand up to tell her to stay put. I definitely don’t need the “I told you so” from some Alaskan chick I just met. Especially someone as smug as she seems to be.