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.”
Jenna stood, following Mindy through the maze of tables off to a quiet corner near the stage.
“What’s going on?” Jenna asked.
“You need to see this,” Mindy said, pulling a phone from her pocket, pressing play on a video pre-loaded on the screen.
Jenna looked on in horror as a montage of video clips of she and Alex flashed in front of her, first eating and walking together, then her, chest down in the lingerie she recognized buying on their anniversary. Her heart sank as she saw Airika come in, first confronting Jenna, then enjoying a romantic meal with Alex. Then it sped up, cutting to clips of naked skin, hotel rooms, pieced together in a flesh orgy, finally showing Airika on top of a faceless man with thick dark hair on his arms in a hotel room, then splayed out, post-coital, tangled in his sheets, nude. It ended with a clip of Alex sneaking out of his room, then finally onstage, under the lights. The nauseating blend of romance and tawdriness made it look like a trailer for a high-budget porn. She looked on in disbelief.
“Why are you showing me this?” Jenna said.
“Alex asked me to show you before Mr. Jones did,” Mindy said, gesturing to the mystery man next to Simon.
“I thought they couldn’t use the footage?”
“I’ll let Alex explain, but the long and short of it is that Simon and Mr. Jones are exploiting a loophole about newsworthiness to use footage without your permission. Alex thought Frank took care of it but we have yet to hear from him, and Alex didn’t want you taken off-guard.”
Jenna didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t heard from Frank yet either, although he was supposed to be here tonight. She’d assumed Rose McKenna had exaggerated the scandalous footage, especially since Rolling Stone fired her and killed the story. She staggered back to her table, looking on in disgust as The Bimbo cackled, her nipple making its long-awaited escape.
“Let me help you with that.” Jackson Jones said, leaning in to slide her top back in place.
Jenna tried to stem the nausea and compose herself, wanting to act normal for Felicity’s sake. Her mind reeled with questions and she desperately wanted to talk to Alex, but he’d be onstage any minute.
She no longer needed to catch a glimpse of his place card to know who he was: Jackson Jones. She assumed a man who insisted on being an anonymous boss hadn’t received an invitation to this evening’s event. So why is he here?
Simon continued talking to Felicity, and caught a glimpse of Jenna, baring his teeth in a smile. She tried to wipe the glare off her face to smile, but it came across as more of a sneer. She took another sip of champagne. She looked arou
nd for Alex, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then she turned back to Simon. He took off his jacket and hung it around his chair. He rolled up the cuffs on his shirt. He was sweating. Good, he should sweat. She thought, cataloguing all the ways he’d betrayed Alex. She noticed the hair on his arms—thick and dark.
Before Jenna could fit all the pieces together conclusively, Anya and Shawn showed up, bringing along an entourage of industry people, all smiles. Jenna tried to relax, there was nothing she could do now.
“Do you remember that gig in San Francisco?” A tall man in a suit jacket and jeans (clearly from back in his heyday) with a crazy mop of gray hair was saying. “When we were supposed to open for Patti Smith and the club wouldn’t let us in without our passports? We stood in the rain like complete wankers and missed our set!” His anecdote received loud guffaws and slaps on the back.
Jenna needed to speak to Frank. Where is he?
Chapter 65
Backstage, Mindy briefed Alex on the details of montage sequences, performance order, and all manner of minutia relating to the minute by minute planning of the night’s event. Of course, special consideration was being made for the cameras and commercial breaks, blah, blah, blah. He wasn’t paying attention. He nodded and hmm’d at all the right times, but his mind was a million miles away—or wherever Frank was.
Frank had tried to call earlier, but bad reception dropped the call before he could find out what was going on. When Alex rang him back, it went straight to voicemail. He paced the holding area, biting his nails to the quick.
“Stop fidgeting!” Mindy commanded, getting his attention. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said?”
“I have!” He shouted, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, Min. Really, you don’t need to worry. It’ll be fine.” He gave a weak smile. She rolled her eyes.
“What’d she say when you showed her?” he asked.
“Not much. I think she needs a minute to process.” Mindy said, trying to keep things as light as possible. She looked down at her clipboard, something else catching her attention and off she went, chasing a PA, asking about changes to the teleprompter script. Alex hated making her his messenger but when he saw Jackson Jones at the table next to Jenna, he’d felt backed into a corner. He’d had to make sure she heard it from him, not Jackson Jones. He resumed pacing, and spun around, colliding with Frank, who seemingly materialized in front of him.
“Omph! Sorry!” he said, then saw who it was.
“Alex,” he said. “Good luck tonight.” Frank clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. Alex stared at him.
“Frank! What happened? Did you get my messages? Did you get what you needed from Airika?” Alex said.
“No, my phone was off. And I haven’t spoken to Ms. Thomas. What did I need from her?” Frank said, bewildered.
Alex swallowed, in disbelief that he’d fallen for Airika’s lies again. She didn’t call him?
“Have you seen the trailer?” Alex asked. The color drained from Frank’s face. He shook his head. Alex tipped his head back. “Jackson Jones just showed me the trailer. Apparently there’s some newsworthiness loophole that allows him to use footage of Jenna shot in public spaces. And they can use everything else as long as they don’t show her face. Is it true, can they do that?”
Jenna saw Frank walk backstage and turned to Felicity. “I’ll be back in just a minute.” She followed him around the seating area, toward a long hall that lead backstage. She saw Frank and Alex talking, and from the looks on their faces, they were in trouble.
“So?” she asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
Frank shook his head. “It doesn’t look good. Our options are limited. We could claim defamation, but they could release it anyway and wait for us to sue. By then the damage would already be done. Our best option right now is to hope Ms. Thomas didn’t sign a waiver and won’t allow her likeness used.”
Jenna didn’t know what to say. Alex put his arms around her, letting her head sink into his chest. She would have started bawling if she hadn’t heard the clickety clack of high heels getting nearer. She looked up to see Airika striding toward them, flanked by Simon and Jackson Jones. Jenna gasped and felt Alex’s hands clench into fists.
“Fitzy, mate. Sorry I didn’t get back to you the other day. How’s that contract workin’ out for ya?” Simon said, eyeing Alex.
“Airika, you promised,” Alex said.
Simon cut him off. “You kids are gonna be big stars,” he said, directing his attention to Airika and Alex, holding up a document, presumably the waiver in question. “What a handsome couple you are! No offense, Jenna. You know, just business and all that.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jenna said to Airika. Despite everything that lead up to this moment, she would never have imagined Airika capable of such evil.
Airika stared Jenna down, revealing no emotion. She didn’t get a chance to answer as Simon barreled on. He turned to Alex.
“My job is to make you money. That’s what I’m doing. The wife and kid thing doesn’t make money. A famous father-in-law you refuse to collaborate with and this all-about-the-music purism don’t pay the bills. Scandals pay the rent. Sex pays off the mortgage. Combine them and you’ve got a fucking empire!”
Alex fumed. “So you just lied to me? After all these years?”
“All these years of not making my rent, you mean?” he said, stunning Alex into silence. “Your ball and chain was holding you back. You were unhappy. Anyone could see that. I did you a favor.” Simon said. “You should be thanking me. You will be soon.” Alex’s eyes widened and the vein in his forehead pulsed.
Airika smiled at Simon. “What’s in it for me?” she asked, running her finger down his arm.
“Doll, you’ll be a superstar. Women will love to hate you and men will want to fuck you. You’ll be on the cover of every magazine, the headline of every news story. This is your big break. You’ll never need to work again.”
“And if I don’t sign?” she asked, ever-so-sweetly. Jenna wanted to puke at her tone. She didn’t buy that act for a second.
Jackson Jones, who had been quiet until now, interjected. “You want to consider your options carefully,” he said to Airika. “If you do this, it can be as Mr. Walker described.” Airika raised her eyebrows as if to say “go on.” He continued, “If you choose not to … I have it on good authority that your trust fund payments, which I believe afford you a certain lifestyle, will be suddenly suspended. It would be a shame, no?”
Airika narrowed her eyes at Jackson Jones. She kept her mouth shut, motioning for Simon to hand her the paper. “Good girl,” Simon said. Alex and Jenna looked on, helpless and dumbfounded. Frank shifted from one foot to the other, like he was standing on hot coals.
“I knew this one wasn’t just a fine piece of ass,” Simon said, leering. “You should’ve hit that when you had the chance, again.”
Alex stepped around Airika and punched Simon, landing with a loud crack across the left cheekbone. Simon smiled maniacally. “You hit like a girl.”
Airika chuckled, and threw a right cross, leveling Simon to the floor.
“Get off me!” Jackson Jones shouted at the two men in navy blue jackets and caps that read “FBI.” The one on the right nodded to Airika.
As one, they turned to look at her, mouths agape. “In my head, I was just going to say ‘you’re welcome’, but you all look like orphaned puppies wondering what that blood on the road is. So let me illuminate you. Mr. Jones was just arrested by the FBI. His attorney’s office—files, bills, notes, computers, probably even some lists of off-shore bank accounts—are all being seized. I’m not sure if anyone is at Flesh, Inc. to watch the same thing happen there, but I’d guess there’s security footage, if you wanted to see it later. Probably the only footage that won’t be confiscated, actually.” Airika looked down at Simon, nearly impaling him with her stiletto. “See, you thought you were manipulating me with sex, but you had no idea who you were dealing with. Ira Stearn and I go way back. I spe
nt all yesterday afternoon reminiscing about the good old days with he and my father at the FBI. They were such good listeners.” She turned to Jenna, Alex and Frank.
“You’re welcome,” she said, stomping off down the hall and out through the emergency exit.
Jenna and Alex stared at each other, not sure what to say.
“Two minute warning!” Mindy shouted from around the corner. Alex stepped over Simon’s prostrate body. “You’re fired,” he said and kissed his wife.
Alex stepped into the spotlight, and up to the podium. He looked out at the audience, full of musicians, managers, producers, friends and family. He smiled. The teleprompter sprang up with introductory dialogue. He ignored it.
“I am honored to be here, presenting my father-in-law with this prestigious honor. I know I’m supposed to give a big speech right now listing his many, many accomplishments and detailing his legacy to the world of music—which itself could take up the allotted time. Instead, with his permission, I’d like to invite him up here to perform a song with me.”
He could barely see Shawn’s face in the audience, but knew that he was smiling that cheeky smile of his. Shawn had pushed for them to perform together for so many years, and even after co-writing a song that Alex loved, he’d resisted.
He may have been thick-headed, but Alex finally figured it out. Or at least he hoped he had. Music was about having fun and expressing something real. Nothing was more real than family, and tonight seemed like the right time to enjoy his.
Alex summarized a few of Shawn’s career highlights as stage-hands scrambled around, setting up guitars and microphones as Shawn walked up to the stage. The audience stood in ovation, cheering the anarchic moment. Shawn signaled his old band mates from backstage to come on up and sit in.
As they re-organized the stage, Jenna found her table and sat in the empty chair next to Felicity. Frank joined them moments later. Jenna squeezed Felicity’s shoulders, taking her by surprise.
Rock My World Page 23
