Rock My World (5 page)

“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.

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.

“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.”