She drove on autopilot for what felt like hours, but must have only been about 20 minutes. She pulled into the familiar long gravel driveway lined with Birds of Paradise, sea grasses and rosebushes.
“Mom? Dad? Is anyone he-ere?” she called, her voice cracking.
“Jenna, is that you?” Anya said, making her way from the kitchen through the living room, finding her daughter just inside the front door. “Is everything okay? Oh, Jenna, what happened?” Anya enveloped her daughter in a hug and together they sunk into the couch. Jenna sobbed uncontrollably for many minutes before regaining enough composure to get the words out.
“It’s over. My marriage. Alex. Airika. Saw. Kissing … In our home … ” she sobbed. Anya stroked her only child’s hair and let the tears soak her shoulder all the way through to the skin. When Jenna sat up Anya asked, “Are you sure? Do you think you could have misinterpreted what you thought you saw?”
“I saw my best friend’s tongue down my husband’s throat! How would you interpret that?”
“Okay, okay. What did they do when they saw you?” Anya asked.
“What? Nothing. I dropped the groceries on the floor and ran out.”
“Did you see who kissed whom?”
“They kissed each other!” Jenna yelled, flustered.
“I’m only asking because it’s important to know exactly what happened. This is a big deal and you wouldn’t want to make a rash decision without all the facts.” Anya said.
“How can there be another side? I came home to cook him dinner on our anniversary and he was kissing my best friend! What else is there?” Jenna shouted, shooting up from the couch.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Anya said, “I just don’t want you to overreact. It doesn’t sound like Alex … maybe you should give him a chance to explain?”
Jenna backed out of her mom’s embrace, speechless. She felt like the walls were caving in on her and all of a sudden she had to get out of there.
From the safety of her car, she glared at her parents’ front door. She couldn’t believe that the one person—who, more than anyone, should have been 100% on her side—took her no-good, cheating husband’s side instead. Typical. She didn’t do anything wrong. How could this be yet another example of her “overreacting?” Thoughts blurred into an incessant buzz inside her head. Or was that her phone? Yes, seven missed calls. She threw the phone onto the backseat and sped off again.
***
“What are you doing here?” Alex asked as Airika let herself into the house.
“Felicity told me I could find you here. I need to talk to you about something.” Alex felt uneasy. He and Airika hadn’t exactly been BFF’s and he couldn’t think of a good reason she would be here, seeking him out. Jenna insisted (despite his protestations) he hire her as the band’s stylist for the tour. For the most part, he’d managed to steer clear of her and avoid her manipulations. She did her job and he did his.
“What do you need?” He asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.
She took a step toward Alex, still in his landscaping attire.
“You,” she said.
“Yeah? What for?” He said, organizing his tools, not looking at her.
She was close enough to smell him, the scent of manual labor mixed with cologne, and she became hyper-aware of his body, visible through his sweat-soaked shirt.
“You remember that morning in Barcelona?”
“Ye-eah,” he said, not sure where this was going. The morning in question was seared into his brain. The producer of the music festival they were there to play made a pass at Airika and, by the time Alex happened to walk in, she was pinned with her hands above her head and her skirt shoved up to her waist as she yelled for him to stop. Alex pulled the creep off her, decked him, and took Airika back to his room to get her cleaned up and give her some space to calm down.
“Well, I wanted to thank you … for being such a friend,” she said, looking down at her hands.
“Sure,” he said, thinking anyone would have done the same.
“Spending so much time together…it was nice,” she said, finally making eye contact.
Alex gaped up at her.
“You know, I’m glad we’ve been connecting so much better these last few months.”
Alex gulped and took a step back, wracking his brain for the right thing to say. He opened his mouth, closing it again as language failed him.
She paused, and then lifted a finger to his chest, traveling down his hard body, toward the top of his pants. It took a minute to absorb and react to this drastic departure in behavior. He grabbed her arm, and stepped back. She leaned in and kissed him hard, her tongue finding his, her arms wrapped around his neck. Before he could push her off him, the door opened and he heard a crash as Jenna saw them, dropping a bottle of wine and groceries to the hardwood floor.
He pushed Airika aside, running after Jenna, but she was already gone. Airika stood, paralyzed by both fear and vulnerability. When he came back inside, he wouldn’t even look at her. “Get out of my house,” he said quietly. For the first time in her life, Airika was speechless.
***
“Jenna? Please come back so we can talk. Airika came over out of the blue and kissed me! I swear that’s the truth. Please come home.” He stared at the phone, willing it to ring or transport him back a half hour in time. He couldn’t comprehend this new version of reality—it was like he’d fallen through a wormhole into a hideous alternate universe.
Airika had always been a calculating manipulator, which is why he tried to stay as far away from her as possible. But she was also his wife’s best and oldest friend, and what she’d just done seemed low even for her. He didn’t understand why she did it and he wouldn’t think about the possible repercussions if Jenna didn’t hear him out. He couldn’t imagine life without her. He pressed re-dial.
***
Airika sat, alone in her car, still parked across the street from Alex and Jenna’s house. Her hands shook so violently that she dropped her keys. The bravado she’d felt earlier fell away, and a nightmare unfolded before her. Had she misinterpreted his signals? She was sure the sexual tension had been real between them. Why else would he have agreed to have her go on tour and then come in all knight-in-shining-armor to rescue her from that sleaze-ball producer? Guys don’t just do that. She’d gone over all the details with Rose throughout the tour and even she had agreed that it sounded like he was conflicted, having feelings for Airika. So why didn’t he have the decency to admit it to her when they were alone?
Insecurity didn’t suit her so she called for reinforcement. Her only other real friend, Rose McKenna, was her sole confidante in her pursuit of Alex. Rose was a journalist who started out in tabloids and, though professionally she’d moved on, found the gossip habit hard to break. She listened intently to every hashing and re-hashing Airika gave of each encounter between she and Alex from high school to, most recently, this morning. Rose encouraged her to “find out if he was The One That Got Away.” Airika didn’t think in terms of soul mates, but she didn’t mind Rose’s interpretation of her and Alex. After a review of the facts they came to the same conclusion: Alex was still in love with Airika, even if he also loved Jenna.
She dialed Rose’s number.
Chapter 6
“Grandmother?” Felicity called, tossing her school bag over a chair in the foyer on her way to the kitchen. “Grandmother? You here?” She checked the kitchen before heading through the house to the back deck. There, on a wooden rocking chair, sat her grandmother, sipping tea, staring out at the vast Pacific Ocean.
Felicity stood for a moment, committing the sight to memory. She dreaded the idea of life without her grandmother’s calming presence. “Hi, Grandmother,” she said, plopping down into the chair next to Anya.
“Hi sweetheart,” Anya smiled. “How was your day?”
“Pretty good. Nothing special. You?”
“Oh, just puttered around. Would you like to go for a walk?” Anya asked, st
anding up.
Afternoons with her grandmother, from as far back as Felicity could remember, were spent walking along the beach. They brought a bucket to collect treasures that, once full, signaled they head back. It was their tradition, their time to talk or be silent, and just be. Together.
Felicity kicked off her flip-flops, opening the gate that lead down eighty-four steps to the beach. When she was little she counted them. Funny, she thought, how some things stood out in her memory without any effort, while others slipped away like the tide.
The sand felt soft and damp, the tide was out, making it a perfect day for collecting.
“Cici, look at this.” Anya said, holding a piece of iridescent glass up to the sunlight.
“Ooh, I like that one. Definite keeper.” Felicity said. Anya nodded, slipping it in the bucket. They worked on a constant rotation of craft projects, using various treasures they collected to re-purpose into frames, lamps, or wall art.
It started out with shells and rocks haphazardly hot glued to any available surfaces; but over the years it became a little more sophisticated and specific like their current project: creating an ombre frame made of recycled glass for a mirror in Felicity’s bedroom.
As the afternoon sun set over the horizon, bucket full, they headed home. Starting up the steps, Felicity saw a few flashes of light near the garage. “What was that?”
“Oh, I forgot they were coming today. Grandpa told me they’re doing a photo shoot for that Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame induction.”
“Cool. When’s that?”
“March, after your dad’s tour.”
“Man, I so want to go but I’ll still be in school. There’s no way Mom will let me miss school,” Felicity said, planting the seed for later harvest. In Felicity’s room was an embroidered pillow that read, “If Mother Says No, Ask Grandmother.” Words to live by.
Anya smiled and said, “We shall see.”
“Speaking of your mom, have you spoken to her today?” Anya asked, affecting nonchalance. Felicity raised an eyebrow.
“No, but I talked to Dad. He was working on a big surprise. It’s really sweet. He’s going to have them renew their vows for their anniversary. He’s got this whole elaborate plan.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he’s been planning it for months and I’ve had to run interference to make sure she didn’t find out. Why? Do you think she knows?” Felicity asked, hoping she hadn’t accidentally let something slip. She couldn’t think of anything. Unless her mom had been snooping in her room again.
“No, I don’t think she knows,” Anya said, more to herself than to Felicity.
Chapter 7
Red to green, green to yellow to red and back again, that’s all Jenna took in as she drove aimlessly around. Her mind blanked, frozen in shock, unable to process this new warped version of reality. The streets wove their complex web around endless people, cars, buildings, hopes and dreams. They blended into a haze of nauseating brown, like all the colors had been stirred together on a single palette. Then the nausea took over.
She pulled over just in time to get the door open and hurl what felt like the leftover contents of the life she thought she knew over the edge of the canyon. Wiping her mouth, she was overcome with the urge to wash herself clean—this time both metaphorically and literally.
It dawned on her as she pulled into the valet that she’d never stayed at a hotel by herself before. And never stayed at a hotel in L.A, period. She chose the one hotel she’d always wanted to go to since she was a kid, because, like most little girls, the castle façade of Chateau Marmont stirred ideas of princesses and knights in shining armor parading the grounds. In the grown up version, Jenna liked the idea of a castle providing fortress-like protection over her fragile remains.
“Luggage?” the concierge asked, handing Jenna a key to a garden bungalow.
“No, just me,” Jenna said, following the empty-handed bellhop.
“Here you are, Ms. Jax.”
“Thank you,” she handed him a generous tip, and walked past fragrant gardenias and lilies, that rose through the cool green ivy, snaking up to greet the sunlight filtering into the courtyard. In her zombie-like state, details flashed before her in a hyper-realistic fantasy, as though she were watching a 3-D movie.
Instantly, she felt miles away from the gritty streets of West Hollywood. The quaint, self-contained cottage reminded her of the little one-bedroom house she and her parents shared when they first moved from Australia to California. The Spanish architecture, with its open layout, led the way to a new life filled with larger-than-life dreams. But that was then, seen through the blissfully ignorant eyes of a child. How different it looked now.
She threw her clothes into the dry cleaning bag, stepped into the hot steam shower, and finally allowed herself to cry. The tears came easily as images of Alex and Airika’s lips and bodies together played out in terrifying scenarios, projecting all around her in the steam. Her tears ran, indistinguishable from the pounding water rushing over her naked body. Once it started, she had no choice but to surrender, caving in to the pressure until she was on the ground, knees pulled tight to her chest, shivering in the heat.
The torrent of water and tears damned up the fears for her future, confining her to the horror of the present. Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours or days, the deluge ended. She turned off the shower, slipped on the plush hotel robe, and climbed into bed where she pulled the covers up and over her head, falling into a deep tear-induced sleep.
“Room service,” came a voice muffled by the heavy mahogany door. Blinking, Jenna opened her eyes, adjusting to the dark. Where am I? She thought. Then, like an anvil on her chest, the truth knocked the wind out of her again.
“Ms. Jax? You ordered room service?”
She peeled herself out of bed and went to the door.
“I didn’t order … ” she said, opening the door a crack. She stopped when she saw her husband. She slammed the door, turned on her heel and stomped inside, leaving her husband and a very confused butler outside. She heard voices and scuffling, followed by quiet. After another minute there was a knock.
“Jenna?” His voice sounded forlorn, muffled through the door. Good, Jenna thought, Let him wallow.
“Please let me in.”
She wanted nothing more than to let him rot out there, but decided she’d have to face him sometime, and preferred to avoid a scene. Despite her inability to pay the emotional toll of his infidelity, her rational, possibly sadistic side appeared to be intact. Plus, her sense of morbid curiosity wanted to hear this explanation. There was nothing worse in this town than becoming the next tabloid scandal. She’d dedicated her adult life to evading that humiliating trap. She wouldn’t fall in now.
“What?” She spat after they were safely ensconced in the room alone.
“Babe…”
“No. You do not get to call me that.” Her vehemence knocked him off balance.
“I’m sorry, Jenna. Please, all I’m asking is for you to hear me out. Did you listen to any of my messages?” he asked. “She just showed up. I was in the yard and she showed up. She kissed me and you walked in. I swear that’s the truth. It’s not what you thought. What it looked like.”
Jenna watched his face—the pleading in his eyes, the skin on his forehead wrinkling, aging him. She knew his every tell; every twitch in every expression; and she knew, with absolute certainty, that he was telling her the truth. But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook just yet.
“And if I hadn’t walked in?”
“What? I pushed her away! It was completely one-sided! She used a stupid act of kindness as some kind of signal to come on to me. You know I think she’s a manipulative bitch. I don’t know what her game is but it has nothing to do with me!” He yelled, his deep voice cracking like a pubescent teen. He couldn’t believe he had to defend himself. He never cheated on her, and he knew she knew him better than that. He stepped back from her, chest heaving.
&
nbsp; She calmly sat on the edge of the bed, re-tying her robe, her eyes never leaving him. When the tension in the air subsided to a mere fog, she said, “What stupid act of kindness?”
He sighed and explained about Barcelona. When he finished she looked into his pleading eyes.
“I believe you.” She said.
All the breath left him in one big rush of air and he stepped in toward her. She stood up to meet his embrace, letting her head fit neatly in the nook of his collarbone. The anger dissipated and made way for a sadness she couldn’t quite place. Happy Valentine’s Day, she thought.
Chapter 8
Gently, he pulled away, taking her by the shoulders, his face down near hers and said, “Happy anniversary, Babe. I love you.” She smiled and felt her body surrender to the familiar warmth of his. Her anger melted away as it always did when she looked into his steady green eyes. She nuzzled into his masculine embrace, outwardly relaxing.
“Do you mind if we just stay here?” She asked, cringing at the thought of stepping foot in their house, now contaminated by a heinous act of betrayal.
“Of course. Whatever you want,” he said.
He pulled away again and put up one finger. “I have an idea. One minute. Do you promise to let me in again?” He said, his cheeky confidence returning. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“If you’re lucky.”
As soon as he was out the door, her smile faded. She couldn’t deny the anger still brewing inside. She didn’t want to discuss it with Alex, knowing he told her the truth, not wanting to start a fight and ruin what was left of their anniversary. She couldn’t figure out which was worse: her husband cheating on her, or her best friend trying to steal her husband.
This morning, Jenna would never have believed Airika capable of something so malicious. There must have been signs, she thought, unable to come up with a single example. This wasn’t the kind of thing that came out of nowhere.
Jenna knew Airika manipulated people and acted self-serving, but for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with any agenda that made sense. She always thought things through. What could have compelled her to take such a big risk? Something was off and she couldn’t place it. Is Airika in love with Alex? She wondered, disbelieving the thought as soon as it entered her head. No way was their antagonism masking attraction. Was it? She promised to contemplate that later, resolving to enjoy the limited time she had with Alex.
Rock My World Page 3
