Unforgettable ~ A Jared Leto/MARS Fanfiction

2 - Lanie

There's a party in full swing going on at Pharrell Williams' house. The music, snippets of conversation and laughter carries clearly down the hill to the patio where I'm sitting in the oak-framed swing, glass of iced tea in hand, enjoying the warm evening. Nearby, the burble of the mini-waterfall that feeds the lagoon-style pool adds to the festive sounds coming from our famous neighbor's palatial home.

Pharrell himself had stopped by early in the day and invited me to the party, but I politely declined. I'd feel more than a little awkward and out of place at a Hollywood party, especially with Jared out of town. But even if Jared was in town and had accepted the invitation I couldn't have gone with him. Not to a social event held by a high-profile music industry powerhouse like Pharrell Williams—an album release party likely to be heavily attended by A-listers, and covered by who knows how many members of the media as well as the ever-lurking paparazzi.

I am Jared Leto's wife, but Pharrell Williams doesn't know it. In fact, hardly anyone knows. Nor can they know. Not when my husband is dating someone else

I can just imagine the scene up there at Pharrell's. His house is a dream; a gorgeous, floor-to-ceiling glass architectural marvel. Nowhere near as large as Jared's infamous compound that I call home, but far more modern. I can visualize all the huge rooms and landscaped grounds filled with people dressed in their finest, talking, laughing, drinking, dancing, telling each other how great they are and how great they look. That's the way Hollywood people seem to always talk to each other; as if greatness is the only thing in the world that matters.

Laurel Canyon. Hollywood. Los Angeles. I'm certainly a long way from the north woods, and not only in terms of miles. 

It's hard to believe that in early September I was living in the Arrowhead region of Minnesota, running my late father's hunting and fishing retreat, dealing with a paranoid meth-head of an ex-husband, and going about my daily life as a single mother and an EMT.

At that time, the only connection I had to Jared Leto was an incident that took place fourteen years ago, at a 30 Seconds to Mars concert when I was eighteen. I had gotten caught up in an over-rowdy mosh pit and was nearly kicked, beaten, and trampled to death. Security had been unable to control the raging mass of bodies. And so Jared had leaped from the stage, hurtled the barricade, and rescued me himself.

More often than I care to admit, I wonder if I'm still that teenage girl. Maybe I took a blow to the head and I've dreamed everything that's happened since. What else can explain the insane twists and turns that led me to where I am now, living in the largest home in Laurel Canyon, the wife of one of its most famous and successful residents?

I sip my iced tea and continue rocking in the swing. Jared's been gone three days, and tonight is the Los 40 Awards in Madrid. 30 Seconds to Mars is performing, and Jared is presenting an award. With the vast time difference, I know the event has concluded already and it's early morning there. I know there's press and after-parties he must've attended. But I keep willing for my FaceTime to buzz, to see his face and hear his voice, to get the assurance that he's alone or with his brother and bandmates. I need to hear that he's continued to dodge Katia Valkov's determination to get him alone and in her bed. But even if he has been able to ward her off thus far, I know it won't last. She'll have him. Maybe she's already had him. Maybe they're in bed together this very minute. Maybe that's why he hasn't called tonight, when we've FaceTimed every day since he left.

The more my mind dwells on that possibility, the more certain I am that's exactly what's going on. It grows in me until that's the only plausible explanation for his silence.

Will Jared tell me the truth when we speak next?

Part of me is sure he will, because he said he wouldn't keep anything from me. But another part whispers that Jared will probably lie to spare me the pain he knows this would cause, and the potential damage it'll do to our very new marriage. And he probably doesn't want to deal with my reaction.