Rock My World

by Coulter, Sharisse

  “Hey, I heard your parents are splitting up. Bummer,” someone said over Felicity’s sweaty shoulder. She’d already thrown the ball in the air for her serve and it fell to the sand, untouched.

  She whirled around to see her arch nemesis and general destroyer of good moods: Sadie. Their rivalry dated back to the second grade when, as the new girl, Felicity beat undefeated Sadie in the recess running races. After that, it escalated into full-on war. Spelling bees, science fairs, soccer, basketball, anything they could compete in, they did. And now, among other changes puberty brought on, their social rivalry had taken on a more malicious tone.

  Felicity knew Sadie was trying to rile her up—that she had nothing to go on, because she couldn’t know about the fight when even Felicity didn’t know what happened, right? Sadie was the last person in the world who she’d want to know inside information about her family. Felicity glared at her, ignoring the game.

  “You must be mistaking my parents for yours,” Felicity retorted. Sadie’s eyes widened for a moment, almost revealing real emotion.

  “Oh really? Well, my aunt is with your dad now. At his hotel. I’m sure she’ll clear it up for me. And you can read about it later.” Sadie stalked off, her ebony cape of hair waving behind.

  Felicity threw the ball in the air, serving three aces in a row, nearly decapitating her competition.

  “Woah!” The unsuspecting girl on the other side of the net shouted.

  “Sorry. I just remembered I have a thing. I’ve got to go.” Felicity stormed off the court and straight up to Trey.

  “Can we go now?” She said, shaking visibly. He gave her a worried look and grabbed their stuff. He didn’t ask what happened as they wound up the trail in complete silence, his long legs not quite keeping up with her furious pace.

  Chapter 16

  I met with Alex Anders, front man of the multi-platinum band, Phazee Crux, at his hotel. The band is just over a month away from wrapping up their first worldwide sold out tour. Alex is the brains behind the music: writing, arranging and producing every track. Today, he’s casual and down-to-earth in his jeans and t-shirt, eating a pizza, not looking concerned by the claim some are making that he’s riding on his father-in-law’s famous coat tails.

  RS:

  “So Alex, how does it feel to have your first headlining tour sell out?”

  AA:

  “It’s awesome. The guys and I have worked so hard for so many years for this. It just feels like validation.”

  RS:

  “It’s got to be a nice way to answer your critics who said you only got here because you married Shawn Jax’s daughter.”

  AA:

  “You know, I try not to concern myself with what the critics say. I make music because I can’t not make music. It’s who I am. Not just what I do.’

  RS:

  “But you must have known what people would say when you included a cover of ‘Speak’—Shawn Jax’s biggest hit. Or was that just calculated controversy?”

  AA:

  “As much as I’d like to take credit for being so calculating, I have to admit the reason was a lot simpler than that. Shawn wrote that song about my wife, Jenna, and I wanted to pay tribute to them both. It was actually recorded as part of a documentary on him that will come out early next year. I thought it was a horrible idea to put it on the album, but the label, the band, and our manager outvoted me.”

  RS:

  “Well, whosever idea it was, it obviously worked. Your album has sold over 11 million copies since it came out and you’ve been on a sold out tour ever since. What’s life like on the road?”

  AA:

  “It’s amazing. The difference between being on the road now versus when we were starting out is … night and day. Instead of sleeping on floors and in the van, we’re in posh hotels, flying on a private jet. Life on the road is grueling but satisfying. We have the best fans in the world that, night after night, remind us why we do what we do. But we all have friends and families at home we miss while we’re out and there’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed. I think we’ll be ready for the break when this tour wraps up.”

  RS:

  “And the rumors?”

  AA:

  (Laughs) “Which ones?”

  RS:

  “That there’s trouble in paradise? That you and Jenna are splitting up? That you’ve … found someone new?”

  AA:

  “What? I hadn’t heard that one yet. Yeah, everything you read is true (scoffs). Tabloids these days sure are imaginative. And by that I’m being sarcastic. Just to clarify. I’d like to read a story where I get to be an alien put here to steal the secret of our survival on Earth and get to start an intergalactic war or something.” (laughs)

  RS:

  “So you watch a lot of movies on the road?”

  AA:

  (laughs) “Yeah, I guess I gave away the big juicy secret.”

  RS:

  “Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to talk to me. Good luck with the rest of the tour.”

  Alex stood up from the couch, shaking hands with his interviewer. She looked about his age, maybe a couple years older, with short black hair.

  “Thanks, Rose. That it?” he said, hoping to keep this short. His natural wariness of reporters was heightened by the behind-the-scenes cameraman filming from the corner. He had no idea if the rumor she mentioned was an attempt to get a juicier story or if she’d heard something. He hadn’t spoken to either Jenna or Airika since The Incident and he couldn’t squelch his uneasiness with Rose’s brazen leeching effort. She, on the other hand, wasn’t hurried at all, casually gathering her things.

  “I think my niece goes to school with your daughter,” she said. He doubted it.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” she said, surveying his expression, “I think they even have some classes together. Sadie. That’s my niece.”

  Alex recognized the name but couldn’t place her. He made a mental note to ask Felicity next time they spoke. From her tone he could tell she was inferring something more but he had neither the interest nor the patience to decipher it.

  “Well it’s a great school. I’m sure you’re very proud of her,” he said.

  She lingered, a sly smile playing at her lips.

  “Sorry to cut this short but I’ve got to get to sound check,” he lied.

  She seemed like the type to search his garbage as soon as he left the room and he had no intention of leaving her to it.

  “Right, of course. Don’t let me keep you,” she said, still not moving. He had no choice but to pick up his jacket and head toward the door. She followed him to the elevator, slipping in just in time to ride together, leaving the cameraman out in the hall. When the doors closed, she slipped her card in his back pocket and looked him straight in the eye.

  “If the rumors are true, call me.” The elevator dinged and she strutted out through the lobby. Alex stood, mouth agape, feeling like the girl in one of those horrible sexual-harassment-in-the-workplace videos. He had a bad feeling he would see her again.

  He rode the elevator back up to his floor, thinking about Jenna. He needed to talk to her. Her phone rang and rang. When she didn’t pick up, he hung up without leaving a message. How could he fit everything he needed to say into a 30 second message? An open guitar case sat on the bed. He picked it up, sunk back on the bed, and started noodling around, playing nothing in particular. The chords and melody said what he couldn’t articulate.

  Chapter 17

  Jenna woke up, barely registering the sound of the Weepies singing, “The World Spins Madly On” as the room started spinning around her in her attempt to get vertical. It was too much; the momentum forced her back into the warm abyss. Where is that coming from? She wondered. Then she remembered her impromptu solo dance party last night. She’d thought (hoped) that was a dream. She must have left the music on when she passed out. Ugh. This is why she didn’t usually drink. At least none of her neighbors could have se
en her through all the trees surrounding the cabin (or her fabulous new curtains). By the time the song finished, she managed to tolerate sitting upright.

  Then it hit her. Again. Alex. Airika. The anvil was back, settled squarely on her chest. It allowed for the minimum intake of breath—just enough to keep her alive, aware of her misery and aloneness. She couldn’t formulate the grief into actual thoughts. It was a completely physical reaction. Her body felt leaden, immobile from the weight of her burden. It had been three days since she’d left him, and during the handful of hours she’d spent out of bed, a nagging thought kept forcing its way into her head: Who am I without them?

  The second the thought popped in, she pushed it aside, hating herself for allowing it in the first place. Of course she wasn’t defined by her relationships. That would be pathetic. She was a twenty-first century woman, not some fifties housewife. There was so much more to her than that. Wasn’t there? She was a mother, for one. Felicity’s doing just fine without you, a voice in her head chided. She was also a daughter. It’s not like she could help being the daughter of someone famous. Although that didn’t help prove her point.

  How did other people define themselves? She thought about what people said when they introduce themselves. What it would say below her name on a Hi My Name Is _____ name tag. That’s it!

  All at once it hit her: she needed a job. Well no, not a job—a profession. Most people go to college and get jobs in order to make money. She didn’t need money. She was a wife and mother by the time she graduated high school, so she’d never seen the point in all that in-between stuff. But now she saw there was another point: self-validation.

  She’d spent her entire life surrounded by a crowded bubble of people who loved and cared for her, sheltering her from the big bad world. But now, those same people had popped the bubble just in time for her to feel the weight of the world crashing down upon her.

  The thought was sickening, the introspective train too much for her hangover and severe lack of caffeine. She made a mental note never to drink again, before scavenging the cupboards for something greasy to eat. Nothing. Being a health nut turned out to be a terrible idea when in need of hangover food. The situation needed to be remedied—fast.

  Twenty minutes later, she and Zach took their breakfast bagels, dripping in cheese and bacon, back to the car, and drove down to the snowy boat ramp. They parked, taking in the beautiful frozen landscape between bites.

  “Thanks for picking me up,” she said.

  “I’m always down for food.” He took another monster bite. “Dude, you’re finished already?”

  She blushed. Under normal circumstances she would spend the rest of the day at the gym burning off the countless carbs and fat she just ingested. Ugh, the gym! The mere thought of it made her stomach churn. Or was that the bacon?

  “So how are you holding up?” He asked, making the kind of intense eye contact that always made her squirm.

  “Fine,” she lied.

  Then, realizing that playing the role of the strong capable one who solves everyone else’s problems was what got her into this mess in the first place, she decided to come clean.

  “I’m devastated. I don’t know who I am anymore. Without them, I feel like ... Like there’s no reason to get out of bed. You know?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He stayed silent. She was sure he was trying not to laugh. Or else planning a quick escape from all the scary female emotions.

  “Do you have any hobbies?” He asked. She thought about it.

  “Not really. Everyone else thinks all I do is work out and shop.”

  Silence again. “What do you to shop for?”

  The question surprised her.

  “I shop for clothes for myself, or Felicity. And I love to buy home décor.” He appeared to mull that over, his hand scratching the stubble along his jawline.

  “What was your last job?” He asked.

  She took a deep breath. She hated that question.

  “Modeling.”

  “That’s the only job you’ve ever had?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, there’s your trouble.”

  She looked him over for signs of condescension, but he seemed totally serious. He must have sensed her confusion.

  “If you’ve never really worked, then you’ve never had the chance to get a promotion, or a thank you from a boss, or the simple satisfaction of a job well done.”

  She laughed. “You can’t say modeling isn’t a job, but I get where you’re going with this. Although I’m pretty sure my crisis isn’t based on never being told ‘thank you’.”

  He made a face that said, “How do you know if you’ve never done it?”

  “Okay, here’s your homework. When I take you home, you’re going to make a list of everything you like to do. Anything that could be a profession. Then you’re going to give it to me and I’m going to help you find a job. We’re gonna put you to work, Jenna Jax!” His enthusiasm was infectious and she found herself looking forward to it. She didn’t even wince when he used her maiden name. At least not visibly.

  Chapter 18

  Back at the cabin Jenna started her homework. She looked for paper but couldn’t find any, eventually coming across an old diary in the spare room. She scribbled on a blank page near the back:

  Job

  Pros

  Cons

  Yoga Instructor

  fun, stay in shape, work in very Zen place.

  public speaking, certification and patience required

  Interior Designer

  lots of shopping

  not qualified, no degree

  Photographer

  fun, creative, different every day

  need lots of equipment and learn how to use it

  A&R Talent Scout

  listen to lots of music

  family business, might not be taken seriously, reminds me of Alex

  Looking over the list she’d made felt productive. She’d feared she wouldn’t be able to come up with anything and now she had four legitimate possibilities. Ideas anyway. Discovering her employment ineptitude was disconcerting, especially in such a fragile emotional state. Most people went through this process at eighteen when they left home to go to college. Here she was, a thirty four-year old freshman in The University of Life. Pick a major.

  In an attempt to procrastinate, she flipped through the pages of her old diary. She came across an entry from the summer before sophomore year. She read the words of her former self:

  Dear Diary,

  Today we went to Virginia City to watch the camel races. It was fun except that the camels were really gross. They spit! Eww!!!! But then we walked around downtown and tasted the fudge (yum!) and went on a tour of an old mine. I’m not normally interested in history but I was 200 feet below the earth, standing on a tiny elevator with my crush and his hand kept brushing up against mine. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not, but maybe when we go to the movies later I can find out. I mean, even if he is interested it’s not like he can be too obvious about it. Not with his sister around.

  Jenna slammed the book shut in an attempt to stop the stream of suppressed memories flooding in. A photo slipped out, landing face down on the floor. She didn’t want to, but couldn’t help it. She picked it up. The three smiling faces, posing behind bars, belonged to none other than herself, Airika and Zach. She had forgotten how much of a crush she used to have on him. She’d liked him for forever. Until Alex. Nothing ever happened, of course. Their two-year age difference, insignificant now, was a gaping chasm then. When they were a little older, Jenna knew Airika would never have allowed it to happen so she kept it to herself.

  She blushed, suddenly self-conscious he might find out about her crush, ancient history though it was. At least they didn’t have his sister as a third wheel. “No!” she said out loud, hoping it would force her mind to stop wandering further down that path. The last thing she needed now was to add another layer of complication to an already convolute
d Jerry Springer-esque problem. Focus Jenna. She shoved both hands in her pockets to keep them from delving further into the diary.

  Inside her pocket, she found a piece of paper and remembered that her photos should be ready for pickup by now. They couldn’t call her since she smashed her phone and didn’t know the number to the cabin. Plus, she could get a better look at the shopping center now that it was light outside.

  Her favorite skinny jeans were the only trendy item she could add to her otherwise hideous outfit if she didn’t want to freeze to death. She dug in the second bag Zach had packed for her for something warm to put on. Unzipping it, she nearly keeled over from humiliation.

  As he’d done with the other drawers in her bedroom, he dumped the contents of her nightstand drawer out on top of everything else. While she appreciated that he hadn’t spent time going through her underwear drawer, she wanted to crawl in a hole when, glinting up at her, she saw the pink Rabbit vibrator she’d gotten in a gift basket from the Sex in the City party she’d gone to last year. And it’s not even in its packaging, she thought, wondering if that made any difference at all.

  She screwed her eyes up to try to banish the visual of Zach’s reaction to seeing it and chucked on an unflattering puffy jacket, knit beanie (with tassel) and clunky snow boots. Not cute, but practical for walking around town and avoiding frostbite (and an excellent disguise when not wanting to be recognized by well-meaning friends).

  “May I help you?” asked a perky salesgirl working the camera counter. Jenna smiled.

  “Yeah, I had a roll of film developed. And an enlargement.”

  “Name or ticket?”

  Jenna took the ticket out of her pocket, handing it over. The girl did a quick double take when she read the name, but was gracious enough not to say anything.

  “Just a sec. The enlargement’s in the back.”