Rock My World

by Coulter, Sharisse

  The driver stopped and a security guard opened Alex’s door. He was wordlessly ushered into an open elevator. He felt like he was in the second act of an action movie. A voice in his head screamed, Run! But he didn’t. He couldn’t articulate why, but a certain curiosity piqued. Testosterone and adrenaline spurred him on, his inner Bruce Willis ready to throw punches and one-liners.

  The elevator dinged on the top floor. Stepping out, he crossed through a private entrance into the largest office he’d ever seen. The spectacular desert view caught his eye first as he stepped forward. A tall, clean-shaven figure stood up from behind a thick desk. The man was dressed in a tailored pinstripe black and gray suit, with a bold purple tie. Alex hadn’t expected his action movie nemesis to be so well groomed and handsome. Maybe he overreacted before.

  “Alex! Come. Sit.” Jackson Jones said with an easy smile, shaking Alex’s hand. He seemed shorter up close, though pretty near Alex’s own height. Alex must have looked confused because as he sat down (his chair seemed really short) Jackson Jones made a show of introducing himself, excusing his lackey’s poor manners. Everything seemed amiable until Jackson Jones said, “It seems we have an important matter to discuss.”

  Alex’s stomach dropped. He felt like he’d been called to the principal’s office. He wracked his brain, not coming up with any plausible reason for Jackson Jones to bring him in.

  “It has come to my attention that you wish to renegotiate your contract.”

  Shit! How could he possibly know about that? His pulse quickened.

  “I … where did you hear that?” Alex stuttered.

  “My lawyer.”

  That backstabbing bastard, I should’ve known.

  “I would like to be released from it, upon completion of the tour.” Alex said, hoping he sounded business-like and calm.

  “I’m sorry to say that is not possible. However, I would like to ask why you are unhappy with the current terms. Have the accommodations not been adequate?”

  “No. Yes. They’ve been fine.” Alex said, flustered by the casual turn. He scoured his brain for reasons, coming up short. The tour support was fantastic, his royalty points more than fair, and the signing bonus had been generously deducted from his recoupable debt (unheard of in the music industry). Why was he unhappy? It was a fair question.

  “I, uh, think my demographic could have a problem with … ” Be careful how you word this. “ … some of the more conservative fans, I mean … ”

  “You’re afraid your fans are put off by porn money?”

  “Er, yes.”

  “In my experience, rock music fans are some of my best customers.”

  “Well, also I have a daughter, and a lot of younger fans,” Alex said, grasping.

  “You’re afraid of sending the wrong message? Is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “May I ask, Mr. Anders, if you watch porn?”

  “That’s personal,” Alex said. Jackson Jones leaned back in his chair, patiently waiting for his response.

  “But yeah, I’m a guy,” Alex admitted.

  “Are you put off by it?”

  “N-no.”

  “Are you so different from your demographic?”

  “I guess not.” Alex was starting to feel ridiculous.

  “Is this about the commercial in Holland? After you expressed your concerns regarding the subject matter, I respected your wish to pull out of it. Excuse the pun,” he laughed.

  “I know. And I appreciate that. It’s just …” Alex didn’t know how to finish the sentence. The more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed. Was he really such a prude? Just because he was a husband and father didn’t mean he wasn’t also a man. Why should it bother him or his fans where his funding came from?

  “You still have reservations?”

  “Well,” Alex started. “My wife wants me to get out of my contract.”

  “She wants you to give up your dream?”

  “No!” Alex said, a little louder than he meant. “It’s just been hard . . . spending so much time apart. Her dreams have been on hold while I pursued mine. It’s not fair.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? Your wife can join you on tour at any time you like. You could have just asked and saved yourself the trouble.”

  Alex’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to see this conversation through Jenna’s eyes. It would help if she joined him on tour more often.

  “Tell you what. Next time, bring her in. I’m certain we can find a compromise amenable to all. You bring her to Vegas, I’ll put you up in a honeymoon suite. You’ll take her to a show, to a romantic dinner. It’ll be like a second honeymoon. She’ll thank you for it.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” Alex said, forgetting for the moment how he got there.

  “Well! Now that’s settled. I’m trying to figure out how to play ‘Paper Money’ off your second album and I can’t quite get the bridge. Would you mind?” Jackson said, proffering his treasured guitar up from behind the desk. Alex’s concerns and confusion drifted away as he, in the most improbable of circumstances, taught the country’s biggest porn mogul how to play one of his least known songs. Calling this “surreal” didn’t begin to do it justice.

  Chapter 51

  “Will you be my date for Grandpa’s induction ceremony?” Felicity asked Trey over Chinese the next night. They had fallen into an easy weekend pattern of eating, making out, eating, and walking around Silver Lake holding hands. She had never been so happy.

  “Hmm … Let me think about it,” he teased.

  She glared at him, taking a big bite.

  “Okay,” he said. They both smiled.

  “Do you want to come with me to pick out my dress?”

  “I love you, but no. I was gonna play basketball.”

  “You love me?” She asked in a light tone, in case he didn’t mean it.

  “I love you,” he said again, his eyes serious.

  “I love you too.” She smiled, feeling shy all of a sudden.

  They finished their food in giddy silence. Trey stood, taking her by the hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her hands through his golden hair. He made an “mmmm” noise in his throat and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes. They made their way down the narrow hall to his bedroom.

  He slept on a twin bed that still had a Jimmy Neutron sticker on the headboard. Signed concert posters mostly covered the kiddy train wallpaper below. Clothes were strewn around the room, invading the rare space between cables plugged into amps and guitars, leaning against opposite walls. The bed was freshly made.

  As they made their way over, he peppered her neck and face in soft kisses. She closed her eyes, reveling in his touch. He took his time, pulling his shirt up over his head before running his hands up her back, relieving her of her own shirt, and struggling to unhook her bra. Her breathing came in quick bursts of anticipation. She tried to undo his jeans but he stopped her, lying her down on the bed.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded, pulling him down to her, feeling his weight on top of her.

  After, they lay together happily squished on his little twin bed, still breathing hard.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Never better. You?”

  “Mmmmm.”

  “I love you,” she said, snuggling into the nook of his collarbone.

  “I love you too,” he kissed the top of her head.

  The next day after school, she stood outside the building with Trey, huddled under the awning. It was mizzling out (somewhere between a mist and a drizzle) as she waited for her ride, not minding the excuse to snuggle up to him. Her grandmother pulled up to the curb and Felicity gave Trey a quick kiss goodbye, missing him already. It was the first afternoon they’d spent apart since they started dating.

  An hour later she stood in front of a wall of dresses at some designer’s studio her mom sent her to. Her usual aversion to shopping dissolved in her euphori
a. Nothing could bring her down now. She didn’t even mind that her grandmother bailed to run a few errands.

  Karyn C. showed her a couple dresses her mom picked out and asked if she wanted to try them on. The first was a charcoal strapless A-line dress with frayed ruching through the midsection. It was pretty, but the color washed her out. Next she tried a one-shouldered gown, knee length in the front, longer in the back, the same color as Trey’s eyes. It had the same charcoal fabric as the first dress around the middle, but was far enough from her face to add interest, allowing the turquoise color to make her blue eyes pop. Flowy and feminine. And unexpected. She felt beautiful—it was perfect.

  Out on the cobbled walkway, lost in the clouds, she answered her phone. Her grandmother’s voice sounded strange—distant and formal. “Felicity, I need to tell you something.”

  The rest of the conversation was a blur. At some point, maybe minutes later, maybe hours or even days, she was pulled to her feet by her grandmother and buckled into the back seat of a car, holding her hand as they zipped through the city. Her mind was numb. Time and place drifted away and the world passed her by in a series of undefined colors and shapes.

  At the hospital, she saw Trey’s mom. She was crying. Anya hugged her and they spoke for a minute. Felicity took it in without comprehension. She stood stock still in the middle of the waiting room, until the two women walked toward her. Inexplicably, she felt an overwhelming urge to back away from them. They sat her down on one of the chairs, flanking her on either side. Whatever they were saying was clearly difficult for them but Felicity didn’t understand. They seemed to need her to agree to something. She just wanted them to stop talking. She nodded.

  Before she knew it, a doctor swept her off down the hall to a room. The door outside read “ICU.” Felicity couldn’t remember what the letters stood for. But then she saw him. Trey. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and his head was covered in bandages, completely obscuring the top half of his face. The lower half was covered in bandages too so that the only visible skin was the unshaven stubble beneath his nose. She barely noticed the machines hooked to him, beeping and wheezing.

  “I’m sorry about your friend, and I know this is difficult for you, but you were the last person to see Trey alive and we need you to identify that this is him. Is this what he was wearing?”

  What? She thought, finally comprehending what he asked her to do. He can’t be dead. I just saw him. I can see his chest moving. He loves me.

  “In order for him to donate his organs, we must be able to identify him. Your friend is brain dead, these machines are only keeping his organs viable.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. Her voice came from outside her body, but as she said it, she returned. The full force of reality thrust itself at her. She felt … like she was going to throw up. Uh-oh. Her insides twisted and clenched as tears ejected themselves from her eyes.

  Two nurses escorted her from the room as she sobbed and wretched. They took her to an open room, laying her down on a bed. One of them handed her a box of Kleenex and the other left the room. Her grandmother came in a moment later. Felicity gripped her grandmother’s shoulders, sobbing and convulsing.

  Chapter 52

  “Where are you?” Jenna asked.

  “Vegas, getting ready for the show tonight.”

  “You need to come home.”

  “Are you home?”

  “Trey died. In a motorcycle accident. You need to come home,” she repeated.

  “Wha- Oh no. Felicity. That’s … ” he trailed off. “I’ll be there soon.”

  Two hours after receiving the phone call from her mom, Jenna arrived at Bob Hope Airport where a car awaited. The drive to Malibu took longer than the flight, with traffic. She shouted at the driver to go faster.

  “It’s stopped traffic, ma’am. The Lakers are playing. Nothing I can do.”

  She couldn’t stop fidgeting, or checking her phone. She would never be able to forgive herself not being there when Felicity needed her most. What kind of a mother goes off to “find herself,” leaving her poor baby alone? Okay, maybe not alone, but it should have been her at the hospital and her arms of comfort and her voice on the phone. She had failed when it mattered most. Are we there yet?

  After what felt an age later, they wound their way up the Pacific Coast Highway and down the gravel drive to her parents’ house. She flung open her door, making her way into the house before the car came to a stop.

  Anya was waiting in the entryway and narrowly avoided being bowled over by Jenna’s frantic entrance. Jenna looked around for Felicity, but Anya put a finger to her mouth, indicating quiet, and pointed upstairs to Felicity’s bedroom. They padded out to the deck.

  “How is she?” Jenna asked, tears pricking her eyes.

  “She’s okay, I think. It’s going to be hard, but she’ll be alright.”

  “I can’t believe this. She’s too young to deal with something like this,” Jenna gripped her face in her hands.

  “There’s something you need to know,” Anya said, looking over her shoulder, lowering her voice.

  “What?” Worry etched across Jenna’s soft features.

  “She loved him.”

  “I know. They were best friends!” Jenna said, offended her own mother thought she was that out of touch.

  “No. They were dating. She was in love with him.”

  Jenna’s mind reeled. If that was true, why hadn’t Felicity told her? What else hadn’t she told her? A million questions flooded her brain. Then suddenly, they were quiet. All that mattered was Felicity. Her needs. Her space. Her time.

  “What can I do to help her?” Jenna asked.

  “Love her. Be gentle. Let her grieve in her own way,” Anya said, placing a hand on Jenna’s shoulder. Jenna nodded, stifling a sob. She hugged her mom as she hadn’t done since childhood.

  Opening Felicity’s door, she saw the familiar photos on the wall, the vanity from her own childhood and her daughter lying on top of the covers, huddled in the fetal position, staring at the wall. She stepped over the mounds of dirty clothes and books, moving some aside, making room to kneel in front of Felicity’s vacant gaze.

  “Hey,” she said, rubbing a hand along Felicity’s back. Felicity didn’t say anything and Jenna contemplated leaving her alone. Let her come out when she’s ready. She pulled her hand back and Felicity grabbed it. Jenna crawled onto the bed and held her.

  ***

  “Family emergency. I’m leaving. Now.” Alex said to Simon, bags packed, ready to go.

  “What’d someone die?” Simon asked, not looking up from his text.

  “Yes.”

  “What?” Simon looked up, letting his phone beep at his side.

  “Trey died,” Alex said.

  “Shit, man. Yeah, you go. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks,” Alex said, grateful to go without a fight.

  He was surprised to get a phone call from Ira Stearn on his way back to his hotel room. He ignored it. It rang again. Again, he ignored it. On the third try, he relented.

  “What!” Alex demanded.

  “I am calling on behalf of my client to remind you of your contractual obligations.”

  Is he serious?

  “Look, it’s a family emergency. Talk to Simon.”

  “Which family member died?” Ira asked as though he were asking what kind of sandwich Alex preferred.

  “Trey.” Alex responded, teeth clenched.

  “And what is his relation to you?”

  “What! Are you serious with this? He’s my daughter’s best friend. What do you care?”

  “It is clearly stated in your contract that a ‘family emergency’ is defined as a death and/or serious illness of an immediate family member. Therefore, if you do not fulfill your contract, whereby you perform this evening’s concert, and have not given sufficient notice to reschedule said date, you will personally reimburse all costs incurred by said absence.”

  Alex’s mouth hung open. After all this t
ime playing by their rules—thinking he could get more bees with honey, or whatever that stupid saying was—they had to play it this way.

  “Talk to my lawyer,” he seethed, chucking the phone on the bed. It bounced off and fell to the floor with a violent thunk. Anger coursed through his veins as he flung clothes haphazardly into his suitcase.

  “Hello?” Airika’s voice interrupted his tirade. Alex looked up from the suitcase, too angry to speak. “Going somewhere?” She asked.

  “Home.” He said, glaring at the mangled pile of clothes in front of him.

  “Everything okay?”

  “No,” he said. “I gotta go. My flight leaves in less than an hour. You want something?”

  “I, uh … you know, never mind. It can wait,” she said.

  Alex felt bad taking his anger out on her. For all the things that may have been her fault, this wasn’t one of them. He sat on the corner of the bed and looked up at her.

  “Are you sure?” he said, checking his phone. He had a couple minutes before the car came to pick him up. He watched her shift her weight from side to side.

  “Um, have you talked to Jenna lately?”

  “I just got off the phone with her.”

  “Oh. Well, I know the tour is almost over and I … before we go back to LA, I was just wondering if you’d thought about what I said before,” she said, looking anywhere but at him.

  “Which part?” Now that he’d let her get started, he regretted it. He didn’t want to have this conversation now.

  “The part about me loving you. I wanted to know… you know if you and Jenna decided not to get back together … I don’t know. Would you ever consider being with me?” She stood there, feeling naked, without anything to hide behind.

  He sighed and sunk his face into his hands. Thinking about the pain his little girl was in, the mess he’d made of his marriage and his career, he couldn’t stand the idea of causing more pain. He could spare a couple minutes to let her down gently, or at least as long as it took the driver to call.