Rock My World Read online

  Rock My World

  By Sharisse Coulter

  This is a work of fiction. The characters and events are figments of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. Real companies and persons mentioned are also used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of author’s rights.

  ISBN 978-0-9888378-1-2

  Copyright 2013 by Sharisse Coulter

  Chapter 1

  Jenna saw the best in everyone. In sixth grade, she was voted “Most Friendly.” Her table in the cafeteria was always full: a feat for any pre-teen. Then came high school, and she became “Most Likely to Ruin Her Life” in a less official, more viral poll of her peers. However, in the many years since, she’d worked hard to be a good friend, wife, mother, and daughter, priding herself on putting others first. That cheery optimism had served her well. Until today. Of course, she couldn’t have seen it coming; and yet, a nagging little voice told her she’d known it all along. It’s not every day something happens to turn your whole world upside down. But today, Jenna found herself standing on her head, and not just during yoga.

  “CouCou!” Airika waved to Jenna as she walked up the path toward the frosted glass palace of Karyn C’s studio. Jenna loved that Airika, born and bred in L.A., injected random French phrases into her everyday vernacular despite never learning a foreign language. She was so unaffected by other people’s criticism, floating through life on a free-spirited cloud. It was refreshing being friends with someone so uninhibited. Someone so unlike herself.

  “Hi!” Airika said, air-kissing Jenna’s cheeks.

  “I’m so excited! Thank you so much for arranging this!”

  “Did you bring the album?” Airika asked, glancing up from her phone, fingers tapping away.

  “Yeah, I brought it. Is Karyn C. a fan of my dad’s?” Jenna asked.

  “Who isn’t?” Airika, knowing Jenna’s discomfort with using her father’s celebrity to garner favors, added, “She’s so excited to dress you though. She told me you have the perfect body for her designs.”

  “Really?” Jenna knew she was being placated but secretly agreed the Karyn C. gowns she’d been seeing at award shows would accentuate her tall, athletic frame. She often felt mannish in gowns because they emphasized her shoulders, making her look like a transvestite. Karyn’s draping and detail—quintessential to her designs—fell in perfect feminine lines, soft and flowing. Perfect for tonight’s occasion.

  “Come in, come in! I’m so glad you’re here. Sorry it’s so early,” exclaimed a spritely Asian twenty-something, escorting them into the studio. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, Jenna. And a pleasure, as always, to see you again,” she said, air-kissing Airika.

  “I am in love with your designs, Karyn. I’m so grateful you’d open your studio for me.” Jenna said.

  “Oh please! You’re Shawn Jax’s daughter! And you were an amazing model! Don’t even get me started on your yummy husband! Designers must throw themselves at you constantly!” Karyn C. enthused with a flick of her hand, as she bustled about, throwing garments on racks.

  Jenna smiled, thinking Karyn seemed unbelievably young for someone with such a long list of accomplishments-—she couldn’t have been a day over 23.

  “Not since I got knocked up and turned into a boring housewife,” Jenna said. Karyn’s brows knit together in confusion before she laughed politely.

  “Oh, Jenna wanted to bring you a little something to say thank you,” Airika said, diffusing the awkward moment.

  “Right. From my dad.” Jenna pulled the album out of her oversized shoulder bag. “Airika said it’s your favorite?”

  “Aww, that was so sweet of you,” Karyn said to Jenna, setting it on a pile of paperwork on her desk.

  “We wanted you to have these, too,” Airika said, pulling out two front row tickets to Alex’s concert tomorrow night. Jenna kicked herself for not thinking to do that herself. Good thing Airika always had her back.

  “O.M.G.! OMG, OMG, OMG!!!! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh. My. God. This is amazing, thank you! These tickets have been sold out since, like, forever!” Karyn squealed and danced around, clutching the tickets to her chest as though they were plated in gold. Her teeny frame wrapped the two friends into an impossibly strong bear hug, nearly knocking the wind out of Jenna.

  “You’re welcome,” they said together. Jenna couldn’t help but laugh.

  Regaining her composure, Karyn picked out a silk chiffon one-shoulder dress, ending just above the knee, and handed it to Jenna. It was an almost nude pink that brought out Jenna’s ivory skin tone without making her look naked. Her long chestnut hair flowed around her shoulders as she twirled for approval.

  “Très magnifique! Like a haute couture harlequin heroine,” Airika gushed.

  Jenna didn’t know what that meant, but felt feminine and beautiful and just knew Alex would love it on her. She thanked Karyn and left, fantasizing about his reaction when he saw her tonight.

  Their daughter, Felicity, was staying with her grandparents for the weekend so that Jenna could plan the perfect weekend in. She stocked the fridge with Alex’s favorite foods, even looking up his grandmother’s recipe for Swedish meatballs and lingonberry pudding. Alex broke the stereotypical male mold in lots of ways, but the way to his heart was still through his stomach. And of course, what he sometimes called “dessert,” which she’d been thinking about for weeks.

  When their schedules allowed, Jenna and Alex loved being homebodies. Their idea of a great date night included a couple of rented DVD’s and a homemade pizza, Alex’s specialty. Jenna often joked that if the music thing didn’t work out, he could make a killing as a private chef.

  “I’ve got a crazy day today so I have to leave you, but good luck tonight!” Airika said, sashaying her way to the brand new Mercedes G-class SUV parked next to Jenna’s Prius.

  “Thanks for everything, Air! See you tomorrow!”

  “I expect details. Ciao!”

  Jenna loved hanging out with her best friend, yet relished the idea of getting a few hours to spend on her own today, and since the day started so early she had plenty of time to prep for tonight.

  The happiness she felt for having an amazing husband and an incredible best friend was only slightly marred by the fact that they hated each other. Despised, to be more accurate.

  Jenna painstakingly scheduled events so they always had a buffer (usually herself). She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment of their antagonism, but it started sometime senior year of high school.

  Jenna suspected it had something to do with her. The first time she remembered noticing it was after she announced her pregnancy. Unexpected pregnancy is a breeding ground for teen drama and Alex and Airika were both fiercely protective of her.

  Her brilliant modeling career and burgeoning Party Girl persona came to a screeching halt. The prom queen became the outcast as her friends and followers traded her in for a new queen bee while she transitioned from haute couture to maternity. They talked about her behind her back, saying things like, “She’s gonna get fat!” and “Washed up before she’s even legal!” and “Slut!” Alex and Airika defended her against the onslaught that semester while Jenna spent an inordinate amount of time in the girls’ bathroom learning to cry silently. Through the humiliation and shame, she vowed to never again let anyone she loved lose friends because of her and her poor choices.

  Before that, Jenna dropped her famous last name like ecstasy at a rave. She g
ot into the hottest clubs, best parties, and backstage at any concert she (and her minions) wanted. Jenna toed the line of a perfect Hollywood cliché. As adults, those roles reversed. Airika, not born to famous parents, had styled her way into V.I.P. status, constantly dragging Jenna out to club openings and red carpet after parties. While Airika thrived in that party environment, Jenna knew she didn’t belong there anymore.

  After she and Alex married, Jenna swore to turn her life around. And she had. The picture of healthy living. She grew organic herbs in their yard. She worked out. She meditated. She drove a hybrid. She obeyed the speed limit (well, unless she was in a real hurry). She joined the PTA. She cheered Felicity on at every soccer game. She sacrificed having a career so her husband could achieve his dreams. She supported him while he toiled away in obscurity, with a little help from her trust fund. And finally, after all these years, the puzzle pieces were coming together. Her life was just like a commercial: all bright smiles and crisp clean living.

  Chapter 2

  The day began, as usual, in her meditation room. She went about her morning ritual of speed yoga (because she needed to squeeze in her cardio too), skipping the meditation pranayama at the end. She could never convince her thoughts to pass through her mind like clouds in the sky, as her yogi told her to do; they were more like tornadoes wreaking havoc and destruction, requiring immediate attention.

  After yoga she blended her breakfast of spinach, tomato, carrot, pomegranate and wheatgrass into an anti-aging, energy-boosting smoothie. She called it gut-wrenching goodness; Alex called it compost. She split it between two re-usable steel canteens and hopped in the shower.

  The day looked just like every other day in perpetually sunny Southern California. The sky was the cerulean blue of Jenna’s eyes, the temperature perfectly warm with a cool ocean breeze. This fine February morning she put on a draped jersey tank with her new skinny jeans and jeweled espadrilles—sexy, yet comfortable.

  She dropped Felicity off at school, listening to the usual teenage monologue.

  “Seriously Mom, I don’t see why I can’t just get a ride from Trey. He’s a better driver than you after only driving for a year.”

  Jenna smiled, and for the umpteenth time, reminded her sixteen year-old daughter that she would not be riding on the back of her best friend’s motorcycle until she was mature enough to know not to get on it in the first place.

  Though Jenna noticed a marked increase in the number of times they butted heads recently, she knew this particular outburst came on the heels of forbidding Felicity from any professional acting until she turned eighteen. Felicity had been offered a chance to audition for the director of a new biopic about her grandfather. Jenna knew better than to let her take that path. No daughter of hers was going to become a cautionary tale. One screw up in the family was enough, and Jenna claimed that title years ago.

  She offered Felicity the smoothie she made, met, as usual, with a look of disgust, as if she’d offered her a steaming pile of something else. Felicity swept her golden copper waves up into a ponytail and Jenna bit her tongue, making a conscious effort not to ask her to leave it down. Those metallic colored locks, with her tanned face and blue eyes, made a gorgeous combination—one most girls would die for. Jenna wished she’d take advantage of it a little instead of dressing for soccer practice.

  “Have a nice day!” Jenna said.

  As the door slammed shut and she waited for the carpool line to start moving, she watched her daughter stalk off toward the high arched doorways of expensive private education, yearning for the days of timeouts and naps solving all behavioral problems.

  Beep, beeeeeep! Beeeep! Her cell lit up with a text from Airika telling her when she could pick up her dress. She was grateful to have such a good friend, who always went out of her way to hook her up. She and Airika had been best friends forever. Since Airika was Erica. They met the summer before second grade at Jenna’s lemonade stand outside her parents’ house in Malibu. Even then, Erica could talk anyone into giving her what she wanted, and Jenna (along with everyone else) was mesmerized. Erica strutted up in her acid wash jeans, side ponytail and the bright white Keds Jenna had been eyeing for months, and said, “Man, it’s hot! You wanna give me a glass of lemonade to cool off?”

  Jenna did. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew then, that this was the coolest girl she’d ever meet. From that day on, they’d been inseparable. Jenna’s parents tried hard to instill in her a good work ethic, not spending much money on clothes or private schools or unnecessarily expensive acting lessons (which she desperately wanted to take). Jenna envied the trendy girls whose parents took them shopping on weekends, to auditions for commercials, and let them watch PG-13 movies. Erica’s parents belonged to that ilk. They thought her time was better spent shopping at designer stores, enrolling in the most expensive private school, and getting private gymnastics coaching in case she stumbled upon elite-level talent.

  Through recess games and first crushes; through Erica’s parents splitting up and her transition to Airika; through sneaking out for the first time to go clubbing and getting drunk off tequila—they’d been thick as thieves. They’d even stuck together when Jenna got pregnant senior year, and all her other friends stopped speaking to her. She became a social leper, quietly getting fatter and fatter, the halls clearing quicker and quicker as she trudged down to the delinquent wing where they held remedial English, How to Pass the G.E.D. and Parenting 101, while her above-ground peers studied for the SAT’s.

  Airika was her only friend. Well, except her “baby daddy,” of course. She was lucky to be one of the few people in the world to meet her one true love in high school. To think that now, eighteen years later, they would be preparing to celebrate their anniversary as much in love as ever; it was more than she could have hoped for, or deserved.

  With the world against them, they conquered the odds and escaped not only the Hollywood curse of doomed relationships, but the more common one (and less geographically specific) of getting married too young and growing apart. Jenna was lucky. No one could deny it, not even her.

  And Airika, now fashion stylist to the stars, was still looking out for her friend. Why else would she have booked Jenna’s exclusive fitting with the newest “It” designer, Karyn C? She designed the most amazing red carpet gowns, having just dressed Natalie Portman and Julia Roberts for this year’s Oscars. Jenna could barely contain her excitement.

  Later on, Alex would be flying in from…where was he? Germany? Hungary? Japan? She couldn’t keep track anymore. All she knew was he would fly in this afternoon to take her on a super secret date and she wanted to make sure she looked perfect.

  It had been three months since they’d spent more than eight consecutive hours together. Alex was touring with his band to promote their new album, leaving her to take care of things at home. It took its toll, no doubt. But it was an amazing opportunity for Alex—the culmination of years of hard work to reach this point—headlining their first world tour.

  Plus, she’d been able to convince him to hire Airika as his personal stylist, thus ingratiating her into the world of rock stars (her true childhood dream). Jenna owed her so much and it felt good to be able to hook Airika up. Airika came back early from the European portion of the tour, glowing with excitement. She had a beefed up roster of rock star clients hoping to replicate Alex’s success for themselves. It was fantastic for everyone. Jenna was so proud of him and all that he had accomplished. And tonight, they’d finally get to celebrate.

  ***

  Alex never got used to flying on private jets. Not that he minded. The food was amazing and as a light sleeper, being able to fully recline without some random stranger leaning their head on his shoulder was a bonus. Especially after playing shows almost every night this month.

  He couldn’t shake his discomfort that there were more staff onboard than passengers, catering to him. He tried to rationalize it as his own contribution to the nation’s employment drought.

  Wh
en they landed, a town car awaited his arrival, driver ready to take him anywhere he pleased. Fame meant a lot of things to get used to—entering establishments through side doors, traveling with security, paparazzi stalking him. Having someone else navigate L.A. traffic wasn’t hard to enjoy.

  “Hey Max,” he said to the driver. “How’s Shelly?”

  “Good, boss. Thanks for asking. Where to?”

  “Home.”

  “Home it is.” Max said, pulling away from the tarmac.

  A half hour later, they pulled up to a white mission style home on a quiet Santa Monica street. Its high archways lead into a Spanish tiled courtyard, opening up to an oversized red door. Alex opened it and breathed in a sigh of relief. No matter how nice the hotel rooms were on tour, nothing compared to home.

  Their home was a perfect combination of his and Jenna’s personalities. Bright and open, it was filled with photos and trinkets collected during their years together. The wall leading from the entryway into the living room overflowed with black and white photos of Felicity growing up. Looking at those pudgy baby photos gave him a twinge of nostalgia.

  He loved returning home to the competing sounds of indie folk music blaring from Felicity’s room—the antithesis of his own punk rock roots—and HGTV, which Jenna kept on 24/7 “for ideas,” she said. She was constantly redecorating, but the style du jour seemed to be red and white nouveau-vintage-mod, or something along those lines. It was strange, returning to an empty house.

  Before he could set his bags down, his cell phone rang. “What?” He demanded. “No, I told you I won’t be able to be reached until sound check tomorrow. No. No. No. Bye, Simon.” He shook his head at his overbearing manager and switched his phone off. He felt guilty about lying to Jenna, but needed time to pull off his big anniversary plan. The quiet of his empty house was overwhelming, especially in contrast to the gaggle of people who constantly surrounded him on tour.