Rock My World (33 page)

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.”

Alex
couldn’t believe it. There was a way out. And again, Jenna figured it out. If
he didn’t do everything in his power to hold on to her, he was an absolute
fool.

“
Airika
,” he said, holding the phone in one hand and Jenna’s
hand in his other, “I need a favor.”

Chapter 64

They arrived
at the famed Waldorf Astoria hotel on Friday morning, the crisp New York air
smelling faintly of spring. A West Coast Girl through and through, Jenna still
got a thrill being in Manhattan. It felt like being in one of her favorite
movies. From their hotel room, she could see the Chrysler building, glinting in
the sunlight.

After all
the recent drama she thought it would be great for she, Felicity and Alex to
rent bikes and ride through Central Park, then have a picnic lunch. Enjoy being
tourists. To her surprise, they were happy to oblige.

They cruised
along the winding paths of the park. Jenna cruised, anyway. Felicity and Alex
raced along, intermittently slamming the brakes when confronted with oncoming
pedestrian traffic. She watched them zip and zoom around, while she basked in
the view of ducks swimming in the pond, the shock of color blooming against the
green wall of foliage, couples holding hands on benches. She catalogued how she
felt in this moment: happy, content, whole. She felt like herself.

The
afternoon was a blur. They ate their way back to the hotel, trying something
from every street vendor they passed. Jenna took photos of Felicity eating
roasted cashews, of Alex’s scrunched face as he stuffed a giant hot dog in his
mouth, complete with ketchup mustache. She asked the porter to take a photo of
the three of them outside the hotel. They looked idyllic. It was a perfect day.

***

She and
Felicity left Alex to get ready for the ceremony and they headed to Anya and
Shawn’s suite. Jean-Pierre was there, along with Anya’s hair and make-up
stylists, ready to work wonders on them, making them look ten years younger and
ten pounds lighter. She noticed a melancholic turn in Felicity’s mood. She
ached to be able to help. She’d learned that Felicity would talk about it if
she wanted, and otherwise, the best thing was to give her space.

Two hours later, three generations of
Jax
women emerged, glowing in their immaculately coiffed
beauty. Jenna’s chestnut hair had been swept into a loose up-do, with plenty of
stray curls making their way down her back. Her smoky eyes and red velvet lips
juxtaposed the geometric black and white dress.

Anya wore a maroon
silk jacket and skirt—understated and elegant. Her blonde hair was pinned
back in a classic French twist. The only thing over the top about her was the
swirling diamond cuff she wore on her right wrist. Jenna marveled at her grace.
She was mesmerizing.

“Wow!” she
gasped, seeing Felicity.

Her tan skin brought out the almost-not-even-there
turquoise of her dress, accentuating her big blue eyes. Her sun-kissed hair
fell in pretty tendrils around her shoulders. She looked like the beautiful
young woman she was. Jenna, taken aback, was overwhelmed with love and pride.
She stood in awe of this beautiful creature before her. She didn’t deserve any
of the credit. Felicity was her own person.

They found
Shawn and Alex in the VIP lobby, where they’d been enjoying a drink (or two).
Without all the primping, guys had the advantage, time-wise. Given the choice,
however, Jenna preferred women’s fashion options to a boring suit or tux any
day.

They posed
on the red carpet, flash bulbs ablaze. Questions about music were directed to
Shawn and Alex; “Who are you wearing?” to Anya and Jenna. And Felicity. Word
had already gotten out about the biopic.

Jenna watched, as her sixteen-year old daughter
answered questions with the poise of someone twice her age. It took every ounce
of willpower for Jenna not to start blubbering “My little girl’s all grown up!”
She couldn’t risk ruining her makeup. Not to mention, Felicity would kill her.

They made
their way inside the ballroom, with its opera house seating and crystal chandeliers.
Mindy, Alex’s publicist, was waiting to take him backstage. As a presenter, he
had a variety of duties, and a lot of backstage schmoozing to do. He squeezed
Jenna’s hand before Mindy swept him off, while an usher directed she and
Felicity to their seats. Anya and Shawn were no longer behind them, stopped by
old friends and famous faces.

They sat
down at a table near the front of the stage. Jenna took a sip of
champagne.
 
Felicity sipped her
water. They looked around to see who else was there. The table to their left
was empty but Jenna noticed a place card indicating that the seat directly
behind hers was reserved for Eric Clapton. The next table represented the other
Aussie and Kiwi bands that had been up-and-comers along with Shawn back in the
70’s. Jenna smiled at Marta, the wife of Shawn’s ex-drummer. She turned back to
Felicity to ask her a question about the woman next to Marta when
something—someone, rather—caught her eye, the words never making it
out.

Felicity
turned around to see what was so interesting. When she saw who it was, she
stood up and gave Simon Walker a hug. He’d been like an uncle to her all these
years. Next to Simon sat a man Jenna didn’t immediately recognize. He was tall
and dressed in an Armani suit, his salt and pepper hair skimming the top of the
expensive fabric. He was deep in conversation with the bimbo to his left, whose
fake boobs were a hiccup away from the next Nipple Gate scandal.

“Excuse me,
Jenna?” Mindy appeared out of nowhere.

“Yes?”

“Would you
mind coming with me? It’ll only take a minute.”