Rock My World

by Coulter, Sharisse

  The sweet tone he injected into his gruff voice was like a girl scout selling cigarettes. Airika batted her eyelashes, eliciting a lascivious smile from Simon. Alex was trapped, and he knew that viper Rose must be lurking somewhere nearby, hoping to get a juicier story. No sense spoon-feeding her material.

  He took a deep breath. “Fine, just do what I pay you to do,” he said to Airika, glaring at Simon.

  “Of course. I d- ,” Airika started.

  “Great, let’s get to work then!” Simon cut her off, patting Alex on the back and steering Airika in the opposite direction. “Come with me doll, I’ll show you the green room.”

  Once they disappeared from view, Alex couldn’t stop the anger from boiling over. His skin crawled with frustration. What had he gotten himself into? He was so distracted he didn’t even notice the cameras still following him.

  He needed an outlet to relieve the tension, so he turned and punched the first thing in reach, which turned out to be a brick wall. The searing pain shocked him back to his more rational self, regret following quickly behind. Ouch! He shook his hand out, flexing his fingers to make sure it wasn’t broken.

  These outbursts were becoming more frequent and he knew, soon enough, he would end up doing something he couldn’t take back. He needed to fix his issues with the label and get Airika out of his life in order to save his marriage, but as it stood, he could see just one way out of either situation: suck it up and finish the tour. By the end of the tour though, he may not have a marriage to save.

  ***

  He tried Jenna’s cell one more time, knowing that, like the last fifty calls, he would be sent straight to voicemail, just wanting to hear her voice. Before he could dial he saw a missed call from Felicity.

  “Hey Cic,” he said when she picked up. “What’s up, kiddo?”

  “Dad! Are you okay? What’s going on with you and Mom?”

  “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”

  She paused. Not him too, she fumed. No one trusted her with the truth.

  “How’s school going?”

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Hey, I had an interview with your friend’s aunt the other day,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Really, which friend?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “Sadie? I think that was her name,” he said.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Hey kid, I gotta go now. Call you later?” He saw Simon heading his way and didn’t want her to overhear their conversation. She and Jenna thought Simon would walk over hot coals for him and he didn’t want to give her more to worry about. She didn’t respond, but he hung up without noticing.

  He dropped the phone to his side just in time for Simon’s mouth to start running. The pep talk consisted, as usual, of shitty options doused in sweet honey. A way to make more money (and sell his soul). To be more successful (and further alienate the fans who’d stuck by him). To reach new fans (thereby rendering the die-hards unnecessary). Blah, blah, blah.

  Alex wanted to scream. Instead, he forced himself to say, “I’m not interested in doubling down. I’m interested in making music. I took a loan; I’ll pay it back. End of story.” They stood, staring each other down.

  For the first time, maybe ever, Alex was happy to hear Airika’s voice over his shoulder. Simon looked away first. Alex turned toward his dressing room, trying to regain his composure before he had to be ‘on’ for the cameras. Wishing he were anywhere else, he decided to man up, reminding himself this was for his family and the only proactive step he could take toward getting out from under the weight of his contract. He suddenly yearned for the days of arguing with a club owner trying to scam him out of $20 off the door.

  Chapter 22

  “Hmmm,” Zach said, walking around the photo, seeing it from different angles. He nodded, smiling, Jenna’s job list in hand. They sat in companionable silence in the living room, glowing embers of last night’s fire keeping them warm. Jenna’s blown up photo sat framed and propped up on the mantle. Jenna smiled her first joyful smile since she’d left her husband.

  “You like?“ She thought it was good, but she was no expert.

  “Mmmhmm … Definitely,” he said, standing up to get a closer look. “Can I show this to someone?” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. “A portrait photographer. Mostly shoots pro athletes. She’s been looking for an assistant,” he said.

  Jenna wanted to shout a resounding Yes! but her old friend, Insecurity, sat squarely on her voice box, stopping her. Just because she took a lucky shot didn’t mean she knew anything about photography. Nor was she a sports enthusiast. Why would a real photographer want her? She’d just get in the way.

  “Hey, I know it’s not a glamorous job, but you’ve gotta start somewhere.”

  “No, that’s not it,” she said quickly, seeing his injured expression. “I’m just worried she won’t want me. I don’t have anything to offer.” The joy she’d felt earlier was usurped by the demeaning voices in her head. She stared down at her coffee, fiddling with the lid.

  He smiled. “That’s the point of an internship. You go in not knowing what you’re doing and learn on the job. For shit pay, or none at all.”

  Well, when he put it like that …

  “And you do have something to offer. A lot, actually. Look at these.” He said, thumbing through the other photos in the sleeve. When he came across one of himself he paused, holding it up so she could see it. Crap! She forgot to take those out.

  “When was this?” He asked. She felt her cheeks heat up.

  “The summer after my sophomore year,” she said, in what she hoped was a casual tone.

  “Look at us,” he said, flipping through the images of them jumping off the pier into the lake. There were shots of everyone, but in all the shots of him, he was shirtless. After a couple of family shots there was one of him pulling himself up the ladder, dripping wet. She blushed and looked away. “God, I look so young!” His eyes glazed over with nostalgia.

  She was glad that’s all he noticed. Her stomach did a little flip, remembering her crush on him and how much she liked him wet and shirtless. The image of The Rabbit flashed again in her mind and she struggled not to give away her embarrassment.

  His face fell and he got quiet.

  “What?” She asked, then remembered and felt awful.

  “That was the last trip we ever took as a family.” He said it so matter-of-factly. That was the summer before his mom left the family and his dad lost his medical practice. How self-absorbed to think his mood had anything to do with her. Apparently, she could check detective off her list of potential careers.

  “I didn’t mean to bring all this up for you. I’m so sorry … ” her voice trailed off.

  “It’s not your fault. Can I keep this?” He held up a shot of he, Airika and their parents smiling, bare feet dangling off the edge of the pier.

  She nodded.

  ***

  When Jenna finally worked up the nerve to call, Noelle, a lovely sounding woman with the hint of a French accent, invited her to shadow a shoot at her cabin the following day. Jenna was a ball of nerves, hardly sleeping through the night.

  Not only wasn’t she qualified to be a photographer (or assistant), she was unqualified to be an employee, period. Teenagers had more work experience than she did. Maybe she should call and cancel. No, she couldn’t make a fool of Zach.

  ***

  Waking up, the cold morning was clear and beautiful, and a fresh blanket of snow sparkled in the sunlight. She layered up, opting for dark fitted jeans, with a silk thermal top under a cashmere wrap. Then she thought better, and added the puffy jacket. She couldn’t bring herself to don the clunky snow boots in front of a photographer, instead opting for high-heeled suede boots.

  The five minute walk along the slippery bike path to the address she’d been given had her slipping and sliding, feeling more and more foolish about her shoe choice. As she struggled up t
he steep driveway, the enormous home looming above her, she questioned whether she was in the right place. To call it a cabin would be like calling Mt. Everest a big hill. Huge pine logs graced the façade of a three-story mountain castle, complete with a stone turret on one side. Opulent without being gaudy, it resembled a hotel more than a home.

  Before Jenna could change her mind and back (or slip) down the driveway, a white-haired woman opened the front door, waving her inside. At just under five feet tall, Noelle’s child-size frame was juxtaposed by a chic blend of designer-meets-mountain wear.

  “Bonjour! You must be Jenna. I’m so glad you found the place! You came highly recommended. From what I saw of your work, you’ve got a real natural talent!” Noelle’s enthusiasm calmed Jenna’s nerves enough to follow her inside.

  “How do you know our boy, Zach?”

  Jenna didn’t have a chance to answer before Noelle continued, “I’ve known that boy for five years now and hardly heard him speak more than two sentences until the other day when he told me about you.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

  “We grew up together,” Jenna said, hoping to avoid getting too personal.

  “Oohh,” Noelle said, dragging the word out. “So were you high school sweethearts?”

  “No, actually I married his best friend.” Jenna realized her mistake but it was too late.

  “So…are you still married now?”

  “Yes,” Jenna replied. She didn’t want to think about the state of her marriage. Noelle either sensed Jenna’s discomfort, or got bored with the topic, thankfully dropping it.

  “Follow me. The studio is upstairs.”

  Jenna followed her, amazed at this tiny woman’s rapid pace. When they got to the top, the breathtaking view paralyzed her. The immense south wall, which could have added a fourth story, was instead covered in floor to ceiling windows, revealing a mesmerizing panorama of the lake and mountains. She had to force her eyes to look around the rest of the room.

  On the opposite wall stood a twenty-foot wide seamless white paper backdrop, hanging from a roller on the wall, spilling onto the floor. There were two big lights on stands set up with light boxes. Jenna recognized the studio setup from her modeling days. She took comfort in the familiarity of being on set, and tried to keep the terror of failure at bay.

  “Over here,” said Noelle.

  “Where are y-?” Jenna asked.

  “In the closet.”

  The closet was the size of Jenna’s living room at home. The only thing remotely resembling a normal closet was the shelving system covering three walls. Each shelf was packed with oversized chachkes and mismatched boxes. At first glance it looked like an antique store disemboweled. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the chaos, revealing a surprisingly sophisticated labeling system, albeit highly personalized.

  Jenna read the labels on the first shelf: “Birth Props”, “Snowshoes from the 1900’s” and “Faux Taxidermy: Regional Animals” handwritten on color-coded stickers. Her eyes lingered and she must have made a face.

  “I’m vegan,” Noelle said, as though that were clarification enough. She continued searching for whatever it was she’d come looking for in the first place. “Aha!” She said, holding up a small blue hatbox.

  “Can I help?” Jenna asked, not sure she could. Noelle headed out of the closet and gestured for Jenna to follow. Jenna obeyed, walking back to the backdrop side of the studio. Noelle unhooked a rope ladder from the wall, which Jenna hadn’t noticed before and looked up to see theater-type scaffolding running the length of the room, just wide enough for one person to crawl out on. Noelle deftly scaled the ladder, then reached her hands out to Jenna.

  “Hand that to me,” she said, adjusting knobs and light discs. She twisted a large light, angling it down toward the back of the room. “How do you feel about heights? I should have asked before.”

  “F-fine,” Jenna said, handing up the box. Jenna didn’t fear heights in general, but she was concerned about what she might have to do up there.

  “Good. I’ll need you up here sprinkling snow for at least part of the shoot today.”

  Jenna breathed a sigh of relief. Then she noticed the box’s label read “Snow: Flakes (Large).” See, nothing to worry about, she told herself.

  Noelle descended the ladder, explaining the concept for the shoot. By the time the stylist and make-up artist arrived, Jenna began to enjoy herself.

  And by the time the model—a professional snowboarder—arrived, Jenna had already made herself useful. She helped move lights, set up props, and watched as Noelle directed each person on set, choreographing the day. Noelle talked non-stop, interrupting herself frequently to interject camera and lighting tips. She was so passionate, and Jenna couldn’t help feeling awed, and a little jealous.

  The shoot was for a book cover: memoirs of an X-Games champion. A couple of burly unshaven men lugged a full-sized chairlift up to the studio, hanging it from the scaffolding above. The complexity of the set astounded her. Jenna was in charge of the snow falling in the first setup. She hoped she didn’t embarrass herself, or plummet to the ground from her perch. When choosing her footwear for the day, she clearly hadn’t the foggiest idea what she’d be in for.

  Noelle called for a reset, and Jenna came down, not gracefully, but without falling on her face either.

  “Jenna,” Noelle gestured for her to look through the camera. “See this shadow?” Jenna nodded. “What do you think we should do to get rid of it?”

  “You’re asking me?” Jenna felt like she was in Mr. Stone’s sixth grade algebra class, unprepared for a pop quiz. Noelle nodded, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Look,” she said. Jenna took another look through the lens. She saw that the shadows being cast from the light above enhanced the model’s deep-set eyes, making her look tired. She looked around the set. There was a round white light disc propped up against the wall. She gestured to it.

  “Would that work?”

  “Let’s see.” Noelle said as Jenna tilted the disc up to the light, just below the model’s face. Click. Jenna leapt over a pile of cords to look at the screen, displaying an evenly lit face. Noelle beamed. Jenna smiled too.

  Shot after shot, Jenna checked on how every little change, each angle, reflection and shadow affected the quality of light. She marveled at how subtle differences in lighting and framing changed the mood. She tried to see the light through the lens instead of with her eyes.

  Her eyes brimmed with ideas, taking cues and direction from Noelle, whose teaching process turned out to be the opposite of sixth grade algebra. For the first time in her life, Jenna was contributing. She was appreciated. She was addicted.

  The trouble with highs, however, is their parasitic twin: low. The poor girl didn’t mean anything by it. She was just getting her make-up touched up between shots. But when she picked up the trashy magazine she’d been reading and said, “Hey, is that you?” Jenna could swear she heard a metaphorical shoe drop. She was about to say “no” and brush it off when she glimpsed the photo of she and Alex at the Grammys with a sawn-through graphic separating them, next to a shot of he and another woman. Before she could look away, she realized she did recognize the woman pictured on a hotel balcony wearing a plush white robe and it definitely was not her.

  Chapter 23

  Airika drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the armrest of her seat. The plane sat, unmoving, as it had for the last two hours. This is why she hated commercial flights. She would definitely be getting someone to refund her money the second they landed at L.A.X. First class may as well have been steerage for all the difference it made in the standard of service.

  A man across the short aisle looked up over his giant bifocals. “Do you mind?” He asked, staring at her hand.

  “Uh, yes, I do.” She said in a tone she hadn’t used since tenth grade (or possibly yesterday).

  She pulled her hands under her legs, which started bouncing against her will. Taking a deep breath like she’d
been told to do in the bi-weekly speed yoga class Jenna had forced her to join, she pushed the button above her head. The flight attendant, barely masking her frustration, informed her for the fourth time, that they would be taking off shortly.

  “You said that an hour and a half ago.” They glared at one another. Finally, the flight attendant pulled out a mini bottle of champagne and a magazine.

  “I apologize for the wait Ma’am. We would like to offer you these, as a token of our appreciation for your patience.”

  The only thing Airika hated more than waiting was being called “ma’am.” “Ma’am” was the word used to describe Victorian women of a certain age, not hipper-than-the-moment celebrity stylists, still young enough to hook the hottest guy in the room without batting an eyelash. This stewardess clearly wanted to piss her off.

  “What about me?” Bifocal Guy asked.

  “Here you are, sir.” The flight attendant said, handing him his own mini bottle. She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, just loud enough for Airika to overhear, “You can’t smoke it now, obviously, but here, just for you.” Bifocal guy took the cigar, pursing his lips around it, gumming one end, rotating it in his mouth as though preparing to light up in the middle of the cabin.

  The sound repulsed her almost as much as the smell. Returning to her yoga breathing, she swigged the champagne and flipped open the magazine. She beamed with pride when she saw one of her clients in the “Who Wore it Best” section. The next page showed a variety of gowns worn to award shows and her newest young country pop star client made the “Best-Dressed” list. For the life of her, Airika couldn’t remember why she didn’t have a subscription to this magazine.

  There was nothing like a little professional validation to distract her from the unpleasantness of her personal life. The man she had secretly loved all her adult life apparently despised her. Her own brother had left her to deal with their father and his latest legal drama on her own, again. And her best friend hadn’t so much as texted her since the fight and was off “finding herself” in some middle-of-nowhere cabin. At least that’s what Zach told her when she called to ask him to come to Florida with her.