Rock My World (4 page)

Stunned? Furious? Abject horror? There were no
words to articulate what she saw.
 
How would Ms. Manners have reacted to the sight of her husband and best
friend kissing in her home, her sanctuary? The unholy cruelty of it was more
than Jenna could process. She spun around and ran as fast as she could. Keys
still in hand, she jumped in the car and sped off.

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, standing 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
ombr
e
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.