Rock My World (27 page)

“
Uaaargh
! You don’t get it. Just because you screwed up your
life you think you can take it out on me. It’s so unfair!”

Jenna took another
deep breath (her yogi would be so proud of all this conscious breathing),
silently counting down from ten.
Nine,
eight, seven
, she thought, clenching her jaw, trying to focus her mind.
Three, two….

“You’re
right, it is unfair. But life’s not fair.” Jenna said, hearing the words
reverberate inside her head in her mother’s (and Noelle’s) voice. Then cursed
the inescapable fate of womanhood: turning into one’s mother.

“Why!”
Felicity shouted.

“I’m doing
this because I love you.”

“Gee,
thanks!” Felicity hung up.

Jenna sunk
down into the couch, head falling into her hands.
Am I doing the right thing?
She knew Felicity had a good head on
her shoulders but couldn’t help remembering that she had too. It wasn’t always
enough.

Yes
, she’d done the right thing. Some
temptations were too great. They were when she was that age and now there was
more of everything. The fact that Felicity didn’t realize she was being used to
bolster the film’s PR made Jenna’s point for her. She hated not being liked,
but she wanted the best for her only daughter.

Chapter
48

Felicity
stomped outside, kicking a chunk of gravel from the driveway into a bird of
paradise. She stalked around the side of the house, mumbling to herself down
all eighty-four stairs, finally reaching the cool sand, where the crashing
waves drowned out her grumblings.
I’m
sick of being treated like a child!
She flicked off her sandals, rolled up
her jeans and walked along the water’s edge, water licking her calves. She
dragged her feet through the water, creating a small wake behind her.

By the time
she calmed down, her jeans were wet up to the knees, the rolled cuffs dripping
down her calves. She plopped down on the dry sand, knees pulled up,
hands
behind her in the sand. She mentally catalogued every
time her mom had held her back, under the guise of “protecting her.” It was as
if, because
she
messed up, Felicity
was preemptively punished for things she didn’t get to experience. The white
haze of the afternoon sun reflected onto the water. She watched it until the
sun dipped down, turning from white to gold to blood-orange before finally
disappearing.

She brushed
herself off and trekked home, jeans heavy and cold, exfoliating the exposed
strip of leg. She thought about what her mom said as she walked up the stairs,
still frustrated that her parents didn’t trust her judgment. She could handle a
lot more than they thought. By the time she closed the sliding glass door
behind her, guilt seeped back into her conscience, replacing her anger.

Then she saw
Trey. His smiling eyes and scruffy hair made her problems melt away. Her
grandpa appeared behind him, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the counter. He
patted Trey on the shoulder and walked away without saying a word.

“He knows
about us,” Trey whispered, checking over his shoulder.

“Did you
tell him?”

“No, I think
he just figured it out.”

“Well, I
guess they were going to find out eventually,” she said, stepping into his open
arms.

“So … do you
want to be my girlfriend?” He said in a tone that was playful yet serious.

“Hmmm … let
me think about it,” she said, kissing him. “Okay!”

She snuggled into his shoulder, and he kissed her
hair. Then they made their first official appearance as a couple, joining her
grandparents in the living room. They held hands and sat down on the couch,
side by side. No one said anything. Felicity couldn’t hide her disappointment.
Don’t they care that I have my first
boyfriend?
Her grandmother read a book in an overstuffed armchair, and her
grandpa sat at the grand piano in the corner of the room. How anticlimactic.

Out of
nowhere, Shawn started to play “Here Comes the Bride,” glancing over his
shoulder at them, a grin spreading across his face. Felicity felt her cheeks
get hot. He played, choppy and over the top. From her soft-spoken Grandpa the
juxtaposition struck her as absurd. She got the giggles. Once she started, that
was it. Anya let out a big laugh, followed by a quick snort, setting Shawn off,
followed closely by Trey. They shook, chortling and crying until their cheeks
and sides hurt and no one could remember how it started in the first place.

Chapter
49

Jenna
arrived at Noelle’s house half an hour after she called. The proofs from the
Vogue
shoot were ready and Jenna was
jumping out of her skin in anticipation. For once, a magazine she couldn’t wait
to read!

“They’ve
already chosen the ones they’ll use, but do you want to see the rest?” Noelle
asked.

“Yes!”

She spread
the images out across her desk. The diffused light shone just right to see
details without causing reflections. She stepped back and admired them one at a
time, picking them up, running her fingers along the edges as though to remind
herself of their tangibility.

“Wow,” she said,
“look how great they are.”

Noelle’s
face lit up. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”
Jenna said, not taking her eyes off the photos.

“Here’s the
image for the story cover,” Noelle handed Jenna a glossy shot of the model in
Jenna’s favorite dress of the day: the strapless ivory gown with the ruffled
train.

Jenna took a
closer look, scrunching her face.
That
looks a bit like …
Yes! She took this shot! She gaped at Noelle,
disbelieving. Noelle’s grin spread wider as she held out the magazine mock up.

“
Photography by Noelle
Enfin
and Jenna
Jax
-Anders.”
Jenna read aloud. “I- Why
would you-?” she couldn’t get her brain and mouth to cooperate. Noelle patted
her on the back, eyes twinkling.

“Why would
you do this? I mean … thank you! Thank you so much! But why?” With her synapses
firing again, it sounded too good to be true.

“I am old
and successful with nothing left to prove. I have no children. No legacy. You
can be my legacy.”

“It’s too
generous. I don’t deserve it.”

“
Pish
! Of course you do.
Vogue
chose your images. All I did was give you credit for something you did.”

Jenna mulled
it over in her head, still gawking at the mock up. She could debate her
worthiness or sit back and enjoy it. An ear-to-ear smile split across her face.
Her photo was going to be in
Vogue
magazine!

 
“To you.” Noelle produced two champagne
flutes and held hers up in the air. Jenna didn’t mention that it was eleven am.
They clinked glasses and Jenna decided that, for once, she’d give herself
permission to enjoy the moment without waiting for her world to crash down
around her. And in that very moment, she missed her husband and her best
friend. She wished she didn’t; but she did.

Chapter
50

The good
thing about flying in private jets, apart from ample legroom, was that they
were almost never delayed. Alex arrived in Las Vegas well before the concert.
He would have time to shower and eat before sound check, he thought.

He got into
the car that was waiting for him on the tarmac when he arrived. He didn’t give
it a second thought until the driver took a side street, the onyx pyramid of
the Luxor getting smaller in the distance. He hadn’t told anyone of his trip.
Who arranged for a car?

“Hey! This
is the wrong way. Mandalay Bay is after the Luxor.”

The driver
gave an indiscernible grunt. They kept going. Something was wrong. The hair on
the back of his neck stood up as he realized how vulnerable he was.
Stupid!
He blamed himself for yet again
not asking the important questions.

When they
pulled into a cavernous parking-garage he looked for clues to his whereabouts.
All he saw were numbered spaces and arrows indicating the exit. He felt his
cell phone still in his pocket, and relaxed slightly. He wouldn’t use it unless
he had to, in case the noise gave him away, but he had it if he needed it.

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.”