Rock My World (32 page)

Alex didn’t
speak. He didn’t think. The lines of reality bulged and bubbled, twisted and
morphed until all that was left was a single palette, mixing colors and sound
into a brown blob. Indistinguishable.

He paused
outside the door processing everything he’d heard. Simon came out, putting a
hand on Alex’s shoulder. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything,
Alex cut him off: “You’re an asshole.” He walked away without a backward
glance.

Chapter
60

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you another message.
Pick up your damn phone! Call me back.” Jenna demanded, hanging up and chucking
the phone at the passenger seat as though Alex would feel the pain. Jenna ran
her fingers across her temples, grabbing handfuls of hair in tight fists. The
pain felt good. She’d never understood people who physically hurt themselves in
order to relieve their emotional pain, but in this moment, she felt a sudden
insight.

She read the
article. Start to finish. She read all about how Alex had “suspected her
feelings” but that the “timing hadn’t been right” to do anything about it. That
they were “in love” (
Airika’s
words) and “enjoying
each other’s company and emotional support on tour.” How “things at home had
been rough for a while” and that it was “just a matter of time before the truth
came out.”

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.