6. Sierra
6
SIERRA
“You’re kidding,” I said. It was either that or scream with frustration.
“No, Miss Brogan, I’m not,” Francine said. She was the manager of Cabins for Creatives. “I’m sorry for your situation, but we warned you that being cut off was a very real possibility. For most people, that’s a selling point. You can work in your cabin without distraction.”
“Except I don’t have a cabin anymore,” I said, not for the first time. I raised a hand to my forehead, fighting off the headache the woman was giving me. “And yes, I know I signed a contract stating I knew the risks of being cut off from grocery runs and the rest of the world, but it didn’t say anything in there about being homeless.”
“You’re not homeless,” Francine said with a maddeningly calm voice. “You said you’re staying with those nice gentlemen in the deluxe cabin.”
“I said they rescued me. I can’t stay with them—I don’t even know them.”
“They’re handsome young men, you have to admit that.”
If the press tour and premiere hadn’t been in my near future, I would’ve torn my hair out.
“Ma’am, it doesn’t matter what they look like. It matters that I don’t know them, and that I booked a cabin that I can no longer stay in. I need another cabin or a way out of here.” At this point, my preference was the latter.
“There aren’t any other cabins available. We’re booked to capacity, and there’s no way to get to you right now. I’m sorry.”
“What about that man who brings the groceries, Winston?”
“He can’t get through. There are branches down all over the place. But you should have enough food to?—”
My face scrunched up as I held back a scream. But patience would get me further—hopefully—than frustration. “Please, Francine, there must be some way to get out of here.”
“There’s not at the moment,” she said, and for the first time, I heard a hint of sympathy in her voice. “I’ll let you know if the conditions change.”
I questioned her for a bit longer, using the most reasonable, calm voice I was able to muster, but it did no good.
After the call ended, I sat on the bed, trying to figure out my next move. Except, according to Francine, I wasn’t moving anywhere for quite some time.
As I mulled that over, I checked my texts. Alyssa had written back, begging for details about what had happened. She’d also apparently told our mutual friend Kylie that something was up, because Kylie had texted several times, too.
Kylie.
That was who I should talk to. She lived a few hours away in Denver, and she was absolutely crazy about mountains. I’d seen enough women drool over my male costars to recognize a fanatic when I saw one, and Kylie was that way about mountains. She absolutely loved them. Plus, she worked part time as a bartender, and that made her a really good listener.
Hoping that she wasn’t in one of her graduate school classes, I selected her number. The call went through immediately. That was one thing I had to give the cabin company. They sucked at extracting stranded guests, but they made damn sure the cabins had excellent reception.
Kylie answered on the third ring and bypassed a greeting. “Oh my god, are you okay? Alyssa’s super worried.”
“I’m fine. And I texted her.”
“What happened?”
Briefly, I recounted the events of yesterday.
“So, you’re just stuck there?”
“That’s what they said.”
Kylie was silent for a moment. Hopefully, she was using her knowledge of mountains to think of a way out of here for me. “Ice storms definitely can make roads completely impassable.”
“And it’s not just the ice, it’s all the downed trees.” Hopelessness filled me. “I checked the weather app, and it doesn’t look like the ice is going to melt anytime soon.”
“Crap,” Kylie said. “I wish my guys and I could magically get to you and whisk you away.”
“Me too.”
She was silent for a moment. “What would they do if one of the people renting a cabin had a heart attack or something? They have to have an extraction plan for something like that.”
“I had the same thought,” I said glumly. “The woman said that in that case, you’d call 911, and emergency search and rescue could hopefully airlift you out.” If they could even get there in time.
“Is there any chance the emergency responders do any, like, freelance work on the side?”
“Don’t think so. Apparently, it’s quite dangerous with all the trees around here. A helicopter would lower rescuers down and have to raise everyone back up again.” As much as I wanted to get out of here, I didn’t want anyone to risk their lives, and I certainly didn’t want to take any resources away from people in medical distress.
“Okay, so… let’s think about this,” Kylie said, and my breath caught as I wondered if she had another idea to get me the hell out of here. “Do you feel unsafe where you are?”
I nearly snorted, a sound I hated. “Well, if I step outside, I’ll likely slide down the mountainside, and a tree could crash through the roof at any minute.” Though, come to think of it, I hadn’t heard the deafening sound of branches breaking off much so far this morning. Either this cabin was better soundproofed, or it wasn’t happening as often.
“No, I mean with the men. Have you talked with them?”
“Not much,” I admitted. Unlike Alyssa, Kylie knew a bit more about my history with men.
“Do they seem nice?”
I sighed. “One guy does, kind of. Oh, and the dog, too.”
“There’s a dog?” Kylie’s voice contained almost the same level of excitement as when she spoke about mountains.
I told her what I knew about Zeus, and even I had to smile as I remembered how soft and silky his fur was.
She laughed when I recounted how he’d snuck into my room this morning. “That would’ve freaked me out, too, to feel something move next to me. But hey, it’s good you have your own room.”
“I did last night. Not sure what’ll happen if I have to stay here for much longer.”
“Tell them your friend Kylie said that if they’re gentlemen, they’ll let you keep it.”
“Hopefully.” Poor Kylie had been in a situation not too long ago in which she’d had to share a room with three strange men. I’d die if that happened. Then again, most women seemed to make it through their lives without flinching every time a man came near them.
And I had to admit, things had worked out pretty damn well for Kylie in the end. I didn’t see that kind of thing in the cards for me, though. For me, a happy ending was getting the hell out of here, booking a hotel nowhere near the trees, and finishing my screenplay.
After a couple seconds of silence, Kylie spoke up in a more hesitant voice. “I know you don’t know those guys, and I know this kind of thing makes you really uncomfortable, but it sounds like they really came through yesterday. I hate to think of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t come to get you.”
I hugged my knees to my chest, thinking about that. “Yeah, they were kind of amazing yesterday.” The more I thought about it, the more it was true. But still… as kind as rescuing a stranger was, that didn’t mean they were prepared to have me as a roommate. And I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to live with three strange men.
“Could you try to kind of… give them the benefit of the doubt?”
“It’s not like that,” I said, after some thought. “I’m not trying to think the worst of them—I just know I won’t ever be comfortable here with them.”
That seemed like a lame way to put it, but I didn’t know how else to explain it. I’d spent half my childhood on a set. My mom, the ultimate stage mother, had hired tutors, but I’d never had much chance to be around anyone but fellow actors.
Boys—and then later on, men—were a mystery to me. When the director started filming, they’d do their best to be macho, touching me, grabbing me roughly—even when the script didn’t call for it. There had been a few male actors that weren’t like that, but most of them were—on or off camera.
Growing up in front of the cameras had left me with a distrust of men in the industry. And my single mother’s history of bringing unsavory boyfriends into our lives had intensified that feeling.
And now I’d be staying with three men I didn’t know.
“Maybe you could forget they’re there,” Kylie suggested. “Pretend you’re at a hotel and there are other guests there and you see them at the continental breakfast and passing in the hallways. Stay in your room a lot, and don’t think about them.”
A mental image filled my head—that of the tall one wearing just a towel. I doubted I had the mental discipline to keep from thinking about that, though I sure as hell wanted to.
“Focus on your screenplay,” Kylie said, perhaps sensing my hesitancy. “Let work keep you busy.”
“My laptop’s back at the cabin.” And likely crushed, frozen, or buried.
“Crap,” Kylie said. “You can take notes on your phone. Or dictate into it.” She paused. “I know this is hard for you, but… maybe if you keep busy, it won’t be so bad. They’ll have to clear the roads eventually.”
“I know.” An unexpected tear trailed down my cheek. Most people thought I was a stuck-up bitch when I didn’t want to spend time with my male costars, but Kylie seemed to understand and not judge me. Plus, her idea was a good one.
“Thanks—for listening and for the suggestion. One way or another, I’ll focus on the screenplay.”
“And we’ll talk lots, okay? So, you don’t just have to talk to strangers. You can call anytime, and if I’m not in class, I’ll pick up. And if I am in class, call Alyssa.”
I cocked my head to the side. “She might be busy.”
“With work?”
“With her men. They’re still kind of in the honeymoon stage.” Just because I wasn’t comfortable with the opposite sex didn’t mean I wasn’t happy for my friends’ relationships.
“Oh, right. She does kind of seem preoccupied lately, but I’m so glad things worked out for her.”
“Me too.”
“They will for you, too,” Kylie assured me. “You’ll finish your screenplay, you’ll get someone to produce it, and I’ll be the first person in line to see it.”
“Thanks,” I said automatically, but that seemed rather unlikely for a first attempt at writing. But still, it was something to focus on. Something to work toward.
And maybe it was enough to get me through however long I’d be stuck here.