Rock My World

by Coulter, Sharisse

  What a bunch of blatant, unadulterated bullshit! The article itself was very much what Alex told her it was. She found it harder to read in print, but on its own, not unexpected. The part she was unprepared for was one line at the bottom, that read “If you’re dying to know more about Alex and Airika, just wait until the film comes out this Spring—it’s reality meets celebrity meets sex scandal. Stay tuned.”

  A funny thing happened when she finished reading. She felt nothing, not because she suddenly became an emotional ice queen, but because it was all so transparent. It was like watching reality TV and realizing they shoot “reality” over multiple takes from different angles, after people have signed waivers to appear on camera. Their cracked cover exposed a crevasse of Grand Canyon proportions separating reality from television—or in this case, print.

  It was so easy to get wrapped up in the details of fame and tabloids and this alternate version of reality. There was the constant threat of information being used against her, the fear of saying or doing something that could ruin her husband’s career. And there was the suspicion she felt meeting new people, never sure if they wanted to be friends with her or her famous last name. What a ruse! A silly little mask, underneath which was an inanely simple explanation behind the “scandal.” The reality was that someone had been fed information and published lies. The real question was, to what end?

  Without a second thought, she called their attorney, Frank, alerting him to the article’s allusion to the film, and asking him to review Alex’s contract, and advise their next step, ASAP.

  Her priorities aligned, Jenna got proactive. Alex was a talented musician, married to a woman with a famous last name. He’d always been too trusting of people and it was easy to see how he ended up in this position.

  Jenna never realized how prominently she factored into his career until now. She steered him away from untrustworthy people, leading him in better directions. Without her, he didn’t always know the difference. And now she was reclaiming her power and eliminating the hangers on who’d gotten too close as of late.

  After these past weeks, watching Felicity endure unimaginable pain, Jenna had been reminded that life was about moments. As a family, they’d had many wonderful moments. There wasn’t a thing in the world worth giving that up for. She had to preserve those moments for Felicity’s sake. She had displayed grace and maturity through her grief. Jenna aspired to learn from her example. Felicity was so wise. Jenna realized she was lucky to be able to confront those who caused her pain, and find closure.

  Inside the house Anya and Felicity were tense, awaiting her reaction. That made her sad. She didn’t want to be a person who caused her loved ones to worry. She could control that.

  “Anyone want to go for a walk?” She asked.

  “I do.” Felicity said.

  “Sounds lovely.” Anya said, visibly relieved.

  Three generations of Jax women rolled up their pant legs, raked their bare toes through the damp sand, collecting small treasures, smiling in the golden afternoon light. Jenna snapped pictures of Anya inspecting a sand dollar, Felicity kicking a wave, the two of them inspecting a pile of seaweed, a carefree Felicity jumping from rock to rock while Anya worried about her falling. The last shot wasn’t hand held. Jenna balanced the camera on a flat-ish rock, set the timer and posed for a touristy shot with her mom and daughter on either side of her. Click. A photograph of the way she felt, in this particular moment in time.

  There was more to life than keeping up commercial-perfect appearances; and now she was living it, enjoying her own reality. When they returned home, disgorging their treasures, Jenna rinsed the salty sea from her skin. Her phone vibrated on top of the duvet as she toweled off. She let her wet hair fall limp down her back, soaking her t-shirt as she picked up the phone. It reminded her that Alex’s make-up show in Vegas was tonight. And still, no messages.

  Chapter 61

  Driving to Vegas seemed like a good idea when she started out, four and a half hours ago. Jenna wanted to stay proactive and it seemed better than flying. Sitting in traffic on I-10, however, reminded her why people hated driving in L.A. She hadn’t even made it out of the county yet.

  She needed to see Alex and have it out in person. If there was enough footage of he and Airika to be called a sex scandal, she’d rather confront it privately now rather than waiting for an audience at the Hall of Fame induction.

  She scanned through radio stations, hoping for a little audio courage to inspire her sagging energy. Spanish, Christian, Country, Mexican Country, ad, ad, ad, Spanish, ooh, drums! Guitar! She left it on. She laughed, recognizing the riff even before her dad’s voice sung lyrics literally written for her.

  “The world’s wrapped around your finger, Little Lady/ You’re my world too, Little Lady/ Don’t do what they tell you/ You just do what you do/ Little Lady’s on her way/ Shining brighter than the stars someday/ Yeah, she will, shine on my Little Lady.”

  As the song ended, the station announcer gave a traffic update. “Westbound I-10 is closed due to a propane tanker crash, but the East bound direction will remain open and should return to speed shortly.” It was a sign. She nudged her way over three lanes, with a minimum of hand gestures and honking.

  Defying all logic and self-preservation, L.A. drivers felt entitled to block any other car from changing lanes, ever. As though under personal assault, they took dangerous measures to prevent anyone from following through on their indicator. This explained why so few used them.

  As the fast lane opened up and traffic moved faster, she rolled down the windows, letting the wind blow through her hair. Choking on smog and feeling something fly into her hair, she remembered she was in LA and rolled them up again. Despite her newfound sense of purpose, it wasn’t quite like the movies, after all.

  ***

  Meanwhile, Alex’s lawyer paid a visit to Shawn and Anya.

  “Frank?” Anya said, walking up to him, hand outstretched.

  “Mrs. Jax.” He shook her hand, tipping his head in a formal nod. They’d known each other for at least ten years but his greeting remained unchanged from their first encounter.

  “Is everything okay?” She asked.

  “Pardon the intrusion, but do you know where I might find Mr. or Mrs. Anders?”

  “Jenna just left to meet Alex in Vegas. Is everything okay?”

  “No, it’s rather urgent I speak to Mr. Anders.”

  “May I ask what this is regarding?” Anya said.

  “This is highly unusual, and I fear I can’t give you specific details, but I can tell you we are on a tight timeline. I have just discovered a rather significant loophole regarding an ongoing issue,” he said, nearly tipping his mouth into a smile.

  Anya didn’t know what to think, but didn’t hesitate to give Frank the details of Alex’s whereabouts and call for a jet. Despite recent months’ events, she still had faith in Alex and Jenna and hoped they’d work things out.

  ***

  Two hours later, Frank knocked on the hotel room Anya directed him to, briefcase in hand. So when Airika, wearing nothing but an oversized men’s shirt answered the door, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He double-checked his notepad.

  “Do you know where I might find Mr. Alex Anders?”

  “Yeah. He’s across the hall. We switched rooms.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Thomas.”

  Airika winked at him, amused by his formality. Simon called out from the bed, trying to coerce her into coming back to join him. She closed the door and Frank walked across the hall to knock on Alex’s door.

  “Thanks to a tip from your wife, I reviewed your entire contract. There is reference to a behind-the-scenes film, starring you, featuring appearances by other band members.” He looked at Alex to make sure he was following. Alex nodded. “I had changed a particular phrase, ‘unrestricted access’ to ‘restricted access, as defined in Appendix B’.” But see here,” he pointed to the bottom of the page, “you never signed this form, meaning they never
had your permission to be filmed.”

  “Really?” Alex asked, grabbing the contract to see for himself. As he did, a loose page fell out. He picked it up, and, with a flash of recognition, his heart sank. He remembered Simon handing him a page just like this one, saying, “Here’s the new waiver. Sign it so we can get back to work.”

  He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. He’d trusted his manager. But, where in the unsigned copy it read “restricted access, as defined in Appendix B,” the one with his signature on it still read “unrestricted access.” He’d been duped. Frank’s eyes widened as he realized what happened.

  “Jackson Jones told me what they’ve been shooting. I haven’t seen it, but I’m pretty sure they have footage of Jenna and me,” Alex cleared his throat. “We can’t let them do this,” he said, hanging his head.

  “There may be a way.” Frank said, his brown eyes gleaming. “I never saw mention of Jenna. Unless she signed a separate waiver, they cannot use the footage of her.”

  Alex looked up, anxiety and hope in his expression.

  “If, as you say, you only had intercourse with your wife, and they cannot use the footage of her, then they would not have their ‘money-shot,” as I believe it’s called. That being the case, it would no longer qualify as pornography, nor even an interesting sex scandal.” Any other time, formal Frank’s usage of the term “money-shot” would have cracked him up. Right now, he felt like kissing the man.

  “Thank you.” Alex said, surprising Frank by pulling him into a big hug. This wasn’t a Man Hug (closed fist, one arm style), but a real, two-arm open-handed hug. Frank cleared his throat, pulling away and nodded stiffly, turning to leave.

  Chapter 62

  Jenna knocked on Alex’s door, resigned to the inevitable confrontation. She wouldn’t take being lied to, given their history, and she wasn’t about to be made a fool of in public, especially not at Felicity’s expense. Reconciliation may not be possible, but they could at least get closure and present a united front for Felicity.

  She needed to know if anything had happened between he and Airika at any point on the tour. The only explanation she could imagine for his distance and demeanor was guilt. If she was right she’d rather confront it now, in private, rather than waiting for the movie to see it play out.

  She took a deep breath, telling herself now was the time for her to face it and make peace (if necessary), before New York when they’d have to break the news to Felicity.

  The door flung open, revealing Airika, pale-faced and wide-eyed, still only partially clothed. Her worst fears realized, Jenna couldn’t think of what to say. If she didn’t know better, she would have said Airika looked scared. The situation seemed less clear, more variables clouding her judgment. Her arguments, along with their friendship, flushed down the drain of Unsaid Things.

  “Can I come in?” Jenna asked.

  “Sure.” Airika showed her in, letting the door close behind. They sat, as they would have before, on the bed, legs crossed under them. It struck her as forced and awkward, like their conversation.

  When they were little, entire nights of sleep were lost to endless storytelling and gossip sessions. They talked about everything—relationships, family, school, crushes, celebrities, fashion, how they were going to be big stars. It was the quintessence of their friendship. Its absence left a giant crevasse in plain sight. Their polite conversation danced around the void, neither willing to address it.

  “Look, Air. I just don’t know what to say.” Jenna started.

  “I wanted to call so many times,” Airika said, relief washing over her perfect complexion. “I know I shouldn’t have done what I did. I miss having you in my life.”

  “It’s been awful, all the way around.” Jenna agreed, looking around the room, trying to be the bigger person, and not think about the fact that Airika wasn’t fully clothed.

  “I know. Let’s just put it behind us. Go back to how it used to be,” Airika said.

  “You can’t be-,” Jenna stopped herself, taking a breath and thinking about what was best for Felicity. “I would like to move on.”

  “Oh Jenna, I’m so happy to hear you say that,” Airika said, jumping up to hug her.

  Jenna backed away, putting ample space between them. “Are you even sorry?”

  “J, I’ve already apologized, like, a thousand times. But if you have to hear it again, fine.”

  Jenna waited. And waited. There, she thought.

  “No. You’ve never actually apologized. Ever. And that wasn’t an apology either. It was an implied apology. Not the same thing.”

  “God, why are you being like this? I said I wanted to make up,” Airika said, put out by this unexpected attitude.

  “But the thing is … the thing is—it’s not up to you. You kissed my husband,” Jenna said, standing up, “and after I caught you, you continued to pursue him,” she closed the gap between them, motioning to Airika’s attire. “You told Rose!” She hovered inches from Airika’s stricken face. “And you don’t even have the decency to be sorry!” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  “What I gave up for you should count for something too,” Airika said. “I’d say we’re even, so let’s just call it good.”

  Jenna’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, horrified as much by what Airika said as by her obvious sincerity. All the years of not standing up for herself fueled her outrage, and she slapped Airika hard across the face. She couldn’t believe she did it. Airika stared at her, mouth agape. She looked like she might cry.

  Jenna clenched and unclenched her jaw, as though at any moment another tirade may tumble out, or worse—an apology. She closed her mouth and left, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter 63

  Alex heard a door slam and cautiously opened his own. Jenna saw him and inhaled sharply.

  “But I thought … ” she started, confused, pointing across the hall to Airika’s room.

  Alex’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. “No, we switched rooms,” he said. She was so relieved that she felt her knees give out, heavy from the burden she’d been carrying. She was so flustered from her encounter she’d completely forgotten why she drove to Vegas in the first place.

  “Did you think-?” Alex’s forehead crinkled in frustration at the implied accusation.

  “Yeah,” she murmured, collapsing in his arms.

  It felt so good to hold her after all that time apart. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how he’d missed her, how all he wanted was for them to go back to normal. Instead, he held her, feeling her chest heave up and down in big oversized breaths. Annoyance fluttered in the pit of his stomach knowing she still didn’t trust him and he wanted to ask what happened across the hall, but didn’t think it prudent when he was still keeping a secret from her.

  Her hair smelled of the beach, like coconut. He loved her smell. He kissed the top of her head. She squeezed her arms tighter around his torso. She was shaking.

  “You okay?” He asked.

  “Mmmhmm,” she mumbled into his chest. When she finally pulled away, she looked up at him and said, “I love you.” Grateful relief washed over him, rendering him inarticulate.

  “I love you too,” he said, “more than you know.”

  “Do you think we can make this work?” She asked.

  “I hope so. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Hmmm. Me too,” she said, though her face said something else he couldn’t read through her sad expression.

  “How can I trust you like I used to?” She thought aloud.

  He was pretty sure her question was rhetorical.

  “I can’t forget the whole Airika debacle. And I’m not going back to who I was—just a housewife. Turns out, there’s more to me than shopping and working out.” She made a face that said “who knew?”

  “And I feel like every time I get a handle on things, something new and terrible tests my resolve,” she said, her eyes glazed over in thought.

  He knew she was
referring to Felicity. That was too much to handle right now. He addressed the easier subject.

  “You’ve never been ‘just a housewife,’ you’ve renovated every room in our house, making it a home. You’re an amazing mother, especially given how young we were. You take care of everyone around you. We couldn’t survive without you.”

  “But, how do I trust you when I know you’re keeping things from me?” She lifted her eyebrows, daring him to argue. “What do you know about this film coming out?”

  He sighed. “First, there won’t be a film. Or at least not like they wanted.”

  “Like who wanted?” She asked.

  “Jackson Jones,” he said, gauging her reaction.

  “The porn guy?” She asked. He nodded. She ran a hand through her hair and sat back, ready to hear whatever he had to say.

  “He’s my anonymous backer,” Alex started, explaining all about the favors and Simon’s betrayal and finally, the porn they were trying to make. She listened, as though caught in the headlights, not saying anything.

  “So they have footage of us having sex?” She said, finally.

  “Yes, but I’ve already talked to Frank and he says that as long as you didn’t sign a waiver, they cannot use any footage of you.”

  “I never signed anything. But,” Jenna said, trying to wrap her brain around all this new information. “If they have the footage, what’s to stop them from leaking it?”

  Alex hadn’t thought of that. They needed some kind of insurance.

  “Hang on, you said Ira Stearn represented Jackson Jones?” Jenna asked. Alex nodded. Jenna scooted forward on the bed and looked into Alex’s eyes. “You need to ask Airika to help. If she really loves you, and I believe she does, tell her this is her chance to make things right. I don’t know all the specifics but I know she’s been hoarding evidence against her father and Ira for years, in case they ever crossed her. Get her to talk to Frank.”