“How did you know where to find me?” She asked, as they sipped champagne and nibbled on the amazing spread of tapas that Alex returned with.
“Magic,” he said. She raised her eyebrows. “The credit card company called to ask me to approve a suspicious charge.”
“Oh,” she said. “What’s so suspicious about a hotel?”
“They said someone billed an unusually expensive room in a surname not matching mine.” He smiled and popped a mini quiche in his mouth. Jenna blushed, thinking that using her maiden name to check in was neither stealthy nor warranted, considering. She tipped her head toward his, giving him a look that said, “Okay, you got me.”
He raised his glass in the air, “A toast. To us. Eighteen wonderful years together and many, many more to come.”
“To us,” she said, clinking her glass to his.
The combination of champagne and heightened emotions, instead of making her feel vulnerable and needy as it normally did, felt empowering. The balance of power had shifted, and in this room she could be the woman she’d always wanted to be. Confident. Self-reliant. Assertive. She tapped into a raw sensuality neither of them had seen in her before. If she hadn’t hated her at that moment, she’d have said she felt a lot like Airika.
The familiar feel of his gentle calloused fingers running along the top of her shoulder, down her arm, left a trail of goose bumps. She let out a low sigh, letting her head drop to one side. He kissed her neck so gently it almost tickled and, as their lips met, her worries drifted away.
She stepped back, slipping out of her robe, letting it crumple in a heap around her feet. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking on hungrily. She stalked toward him, disrobing his perfect body, and pushed him onto the bed below her. Their bodies undulated in perfect unison, each trying, with every wave, to get closer than was physically possible.
Jenna felt like an entirely new person. No longer passive and acquiescent. A woman in control, unapologetically taking and getting exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it.
“Wow,” he panted, after. She snuggled into his chest, draping an arm across his stomach. “Wow,” he repeated. “No seriously, Jenna, wow. That was … ”
She smiled and rolled on top of him.
“I know,” she said, “I was amazing.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide, nodding in grateful agreement.
“Don’t look at me like that, “ she laughed. “You look like a little puppy on a leash, waiting for orders.”
“Woof!”
Chapter 9
“Alex, mate! My favorite front man,” boomed the husky voice of Simon Walker, self-titled Manager Extraordinaire. Women may have loved his British accent, but it didn’t have the same affect on Alex.
“Hey Simon,” Alex said. They walked down the hall, through the chaos of the nearly built stage toward the press room.
“Go do what you do,” Simon said, opening the door for him. Alex strutted, all smiles, into the room full of journalists and bloggers who would inevitably ask the same questions he’d answered a thousand times before. Today he was ready to indulge them. He glanced up at the door and gave Jenna a sly smile, flashing back to their incredible night together, then turned and pointed to an eager college kid.
“Hey, Jenna. Look at you. How do you get more beautiful every time I see you?” Simon said. She rolled her eyes but secretly loved the compliment. “It’s good to see you. Your man’s doing great in there.” Simon said, pointing in the direction of the press room.
“It’s what he does,” Jenna replied, grinning as she watched her husband win over the crowd of journalists. “How are you, Simon?”
“Great. Yeah, great! Couldn’t be better.” He said, mid-text, not looking up. “Can you excuse me?” He walked away before she could answer.
Jenna did a mental eye roll, and headed back to the green room to wait for Alex. Last night had been wonderful, despite the drama, and she wanted to linger in that little bubble as long as possible. It had been ages since she’d come to a show this early and hung out in the green room.
A big chunk of her childhood was spent in rooms just like this one, waiting for her dad. They were all some version of the same: mirror, bathroom, something to sit on. But in all those years she couldn’t recall a single one that was actually green. As a kid, she asked her mother why they called it a green room and one time, after a particularly relentless bout of questioning, Anya told her it was because performers turned green before they puked from nerves. The image of hundreds of performers puking in the same room before they mounted the stage haunted Jenna to this day. Since then, she’d spent as little time as possible in them.
In the early days with Alex, most green rooms were glorified closets, always dingy, usually shared with other bands and obnoxious groupies. If there was food (which often wasn’t the case) it was half-eaten and cold—food poisoning guaranteed—and the bottles of beer (left over from the last band) were always room temperature—likely to have already been used as a spittoon.
She looked around at this room, with its clean modern lines, white leather couches, white velvet chairs in front of a gleaming marble vanity, flanked by tall white sconces. The sterility of the color did wonders for erasing the idea of people getting sick. This lighting makes me look five years younger, she thought, making a mental note to get something similar in her bathroom. Great lighting was undervalued as the best way to boost your self-image, even better than losing weight.
The buffet at the back of the room held neatly arranged platters of sashimi, bottles of water, still and sparkling, chocolate covered strawberries, and champagne chilling in a sterling silver bucket. Jenna smiled before she saw the folded card next to the champagne. They were all her favorites. It read, “Thank you. To more of the same.”
***
Airika arrived early to meet her brother, Zach, at the backstage entrance. She would just drop off the band’s clothes and bail; her brother there as an unwitting buffer of protection or distraction. He happened to be in town this weekend for the premier of his latest ski film. He was one of those guys into huck-yourself-off-a-cliff extreme sports and made little indie films of he and his friends doing crazy things. Airika didn’t understand the appeal, but he did pretty well for himself, despite his über-monk lifestyle. She knew he lived in some sort of log cabin up at Lake Tahoe, but she’d never had time to visit.
When their dad left for Florida, they took very different paths toward their new identities. He’d gone the solitary introspective route while she’d created a successful business all about celebrities, award shows, and all manner of showy opulence. They couldn’t be less alike. But right now, Airika needed her big brother. And he was here for her. Not that she’d told him why.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Airika said, wheeling the chrome clothes rack into the room marked ‘Phazee Crux Wardrobe.’
“Need help?” He asked, grabbing the other side of the rack.
“Thanks.”
They left the rack in the middle of the room, white paper labels attached to hangers, indicating which outfit was for whom.
“All set, let’s go,” she said, leading him back down the long hallway running the full length of the stage.
“You’re not going to say hi?” He asked.
“No, they’re busy. Let’s go or we’ll be late for your premier,” she said, eyes darting back and forth.
Isolated mountain man he may be, but one thing Zach knew for certain was that his sister had never been on time for anything, ever. Her life was chock-full of drama, hence his desire to stay out of her business. He hadn’t seen Alex in years, though in high school they’d been close. Their foursome had long since broken up, but whenever Zach came home or Alex passed through Reno, they made a point of seeing one another.
“We’ve got time to say a quick hello,” he said, heading down toward the press room.
“Fine. I have to get something out of the green room anyway. I’ll meet you out back in a minute.”
A
irika was sure Jenna ran crying to her parents’ and would still be hiding out. She would have taken the path of least resistance, as usual. In all the years they’d known each other, Airika had never seen Jenna stand up for herself or anyone else. Everyone catered to her delicate ego and handed her what she wanted on a perfectly polished silver platter. Airika too had been looking out for Jenna all this time. Must be nice, she thought. This time it might not be looking out for her in the traditional sense, but in a way she was doing her a favor, by forcing the inevitable. She knew she deserved Jenna’s wrath, but the stubborn competitive streak in her wouldn’t let go of the feeling that, just once, she deserved to get what she wanted and let Jenna be the one to suffer disappointment. It was petty—granted—but true nonetheless.
Her main reason for skirting around was that she couldn’t face Alex yet. Not after the way he’d treated her. She knew his feelings for her hadn’t been in her head, not after all the signals he’d sent. It was plain to everyone on the tour, not just her. She’d seen the knowing glances cast in their direction. The way people cleared out to leave them alone. It wasn’t coincidence.
For now, she could hide out in the green room for a couple minutes and make sure the right clothes were sent over. After all, work was the one love in her life that didn’t disappoint.
Chapter 10
When the door opened, Jenna stood up from the vanity, revealing her long lean figure in a short black negligee she’d picked up from the hotel’s boutique while Alex checked them out of the hotel that morning. In a drastic departure from her normal prudish nature, she wanted to surprise him before the show. She felt a little naughty and like she wanted a reprisal of last night’s performance. Her nerve endings tingled in anticipation. The last person in the world she expected to see was Airika.
“What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing. Here.” She seethed through clenched teeth.
“What are you wearing?” Airika asked, looking her up and down. Jenna closed the gap between them with a single step and repeated, “What do you think you’re doing here? Trying to seduce my husband? Again?” Her eyes radiated a rage Airika had never seen before. Jenna stood up taller, puffing her chest slightly, towering over her former friend.
“Oh here we go. You’re right. I’m a bitch. I kissed your husband.” Airika wasn’t one to stay on the defense for long. She stepped in closer, “Go ahead. Blame me. But just don’t think you know the whole story.”
“There is no story! You kissed my husband!” Jenna squealed.
“Yes, I kissed him, but it’s not like it was the first time.” Airika said, pleased to see her comment creating the desired effect. Airika on the offensive was unstoppable. Jenna stood speechless, mind reeling.
“Before you got knocked up, Alex and I were together. As in sleeping together. That summer when you were in Europe? We were dating. We didn’t plan for it to happen but we just … fell in love.”
Jenna’s mouth moved but no words came out. Airika continued calmly, “We were going to tell you … but then we found out you were pregnant.” She let that sink in before she continued. “And I backed off. I held back all these years, letting you have him. But sometimes life’s not fair, even for poor perfect Jenna. He made it clear he still had feelings for me while we were on tour together. And I’m sorry, but just once I’d like to be the one with the happy ending.”
Before Jenna could muster a retort, Airika turned and left, leaving Jenna on her own, a black spot in the stark white room. There were a million things soaring through her mind, and she felt dizzy with information. Did Airika make that up? Why would she? Was it true? She didn’t know which was worse.
“Jenna, are you okay?” Alex asked, entering the room two minutes too late. He hurried over to his wife, crumpled in a heap in the middle of the floor, nearly naked. “What happened?” he asked, forehead wrinkling in concern.
“Is it true?” she asked through a fog of tunnel vision.
“Is what true? Jenna, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about you. And Airika. Dating. Did you sleep with her…ever?”
Her eyes scanned his face, watching it contort in agony. His eyes silently pleaded with her and he let out a heavy sigh.
“Yes. We dated briefly in high school when you and I were broken up. I never cheated on you.” He steadied his gaze, letting that statement settle between them. “But Jenna, that was so long ago. It didn’t mean anything. I chose you.”
“You only chose me after you found out I was pregnant!”
She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. His eyes widened, revealing the truth of her accusation. Oh God. “You were sleeping with both of us at the same time?” She felt nauseous at the thought. “And you never told me? You two have been keeping this from me. You’ve been lying to me for eighteen years!” She stood up to her full height, eyes ablaze.
He looked down at his feet and whispered, “We didn’t want to hurt you.”
She blanched at his use of the word “we.”
“Did you love her?” she asked, closing her eyes in anticipation.
“No! I … I … cared about her, that’s all,” he stuttered.
“Well that’s so much better. You’re right, that doesn’t hurt at all,” she thundered on. “My best friend and husband were together behind my back and spent two decades keeping it from me? You’re right. It’s much less humiliating to find out now than in high school!” Adrenaline surged through her now, propelling her on, “Why don’t I make this easy for you both. I’ll just take myself out of the equation.”
“Jenna … ” he said, reaching out to touch her. She pulled away. “I only want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
She glared at this stranger in her husband’s body before storming out of the room, down the hall. When she reached the backstage entrance it dawned on her that she didn’t have a car, or now that she thought of it, clothes. Before she had time to panic she felt the warmth of a jacket gently enveloping her shoulders. She jumped, spinning around. Seeing Zach’s familiar face, she breathed a sigh of relief and fell into his open arms.
Chapter 11
Anya looked on with wonder, awed by her husband’s patience and youthful energy. From the vantage point of her office, she could see into Shawn’s music studio, set up over the garage, where he was giving an animated lesson to a scruffy teenage boy, a friend of Felicity’s. She watched the young man strumming away on guitar. Shawn picked up a bass and let his head bob in rhythm as he plucked the thick strings. His back was to the window, but she didn’t need to see his face to know that look. He was in his zone. When he created music, alone or collaboratively, he became an ageless entity existing in his own dimension. It was the purest state she had ever known, if only by proximity.
“How cute are they?” asked Felicity, plopping down on the window seat in front of her Grandmother’s desk.
“Should we rescue Trey?” Anya asked.
“Are you kidding? He’s in heaven right now. No, let’s work on our own project. I have everything set up in the craft room.”
Felicity felt guilty for keeping the audition she’d just been on secret, but she didn’t want to elicit reproach if she didn’t have to. If she got the part, then she’d worry about how to tell her mom and grandmother. Their irrational fear of acting perplexed her. For two women firmly entrenched in the music industry, they were abnormally distrusting of the film industry. The first time she told them she wanted to act they looked at her like she said she wanted to be a porn star.
Despite her guilty omission, she couldn’t have been happier spending time with her grandmother. Even though they lived in the same town, their time together was limited. Her grandparents made regular appearances at industry events, took trips overseas, and even when they were home Felicity often felt overshadowed by her mother’s demands on their time.
Once, during a home renovation project, Jenna showed up an hour late to Felicity’s soccer final and took Anya away to sort
out a “life-or-death” issue with a contractor. While they were gone, they missed Felicity’s game winning goal.
Another time, Felicity had to call in sick (even though she felt fine), letting her stand-in deliver Juliet’s lines in the opening night of her school’s rendition of “Romeo and Juliet,” because Jenna was certain they had ingested whipworms from their neighbor’s dog pooping in their herb garden. After quarantining them all and bribing their doctor to do a home visit, the inevitable diagnosis came back—no whipworms.
So in these rare moments of uninterrupted time together, Felicity felt most like herself. Anya said Felicity was her greatest accomplishment—the one for whom she got to do things right—the one with the world in the palm of her hand. But when the front door flung open, clattering violently, Felicity wasn’t surprised to hear her mother’s voice.
The sight of her, however, was something else entirely. Jenna’s normally smooth hair stuck out at odd angles in a disheveled mess. She wore something that may have once resembled fleece sweatpants and an oversized men’s sweatshirt. The effect was alarming. She looked like a homeless person recently escaped from a mental institution.
“What happened now?” Anya jumped up, looking from Jenna to Zach. Zach stepped forward, steering Jenna inside, ushering her onto an overstuffed chair. She stared blankly at the wall as he spoke.
“I didn’t know where else to take her. She and Airika had a fight. It sounded pretty bad.” He looked over at Felicity, then back at Anya, silently motioning for her to join him out of earshot.
“What happened?” Anya asked, when they were far enough away. He hesitated, not sure how much to say.
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