Chapter Eleven - Pippa's Story

It’s so sweet. Jon and Jilly have just renewed their vows. She looks just gorgeous in her off the shoulder cream fitted dress that clings to her gorgeous curves until it fishtails out at the bottom. I don’t know who it’s by but it looks muy expensivo. Oh crap, I’ve been spending way too much time around Richie. I’m even starting to sound like him. I look around trying to spot my erstwhile partner but fail.

Oh god my back hurts. It’s not easy being this pregnant and I still have five weeks to go. I have so much empathy for Jilly now when she was carrying Libby, who, by the way, was just so adorable as a flower girl in her pale pink dress and little crown of red roses that she made me well up with tears at how gorgeous she looked. Of course it didn’t help that she saw me and waved which, of course, set me off crying again. Damn bloody hormones. Richie bloody Sambora didn’t help either, telling me how proud he was that I was carrying our child.

Next time he can bloody well do it, cause I’m not going through this crap again for no-one. Not even Mr Sexy-pants Sambora.

I feel so fat, like a bloated whale and everything hurts. My ankles are swollen, my fingers look like sausages and my hair’s a mess. I’m just so damned tired all the time I can’t even be bothered to straighten my hair so it’s gone back to curly and where I had it cut so short it just gets in my eyes. I’ve not had a fringe before and now I know why. It’s a pain in the arse. Talking of which don’t even get me started about piles….

“Hey babe.” Richie says as he plonks himself down next to me, all breezy and slim and smiling and suddenly I hate him.

“What’s up?” he asks, catching sight of the deep frown on my face.

“It’s not fair. You’re so slim and smiley and I’m just a fat whale, compared to every woman here. Why would you wanna be seen with me?” I know I’m moaning but I can’t help it.

“Oh Pip,” he says in that deep smoky molasses tone of his, “Y’ain’t fat darlin’, you’re carrying our child which makes you the most important person here, in my eyes. In fact you’re the most important person in my life.”

I look deep into his dark chocolate eyes, waiting for the rebuttal when he takes it all back and says I’m second only to Ava, as he usually does but it doesn’t happen. I must look as confused as I feel as he smiles at me and takes my hand in his.

“Come dance with me.” he whispers as he helps me to my feet and we shuffle, quite awkwardly onto the dance floor. I thought, early on in this pregnancy, that I was going to be one of the lucky ones and get away without putting too much weight on but in the last month I have just ballooned to the size of India. I’m even bigger than Jilly was in her last few days.

Still it’s nice to be held by my man, even if he is at the side of me and not in front. I close my eyes and shuffle along to the music, breathing in his unique scent. I am just the luckiest woman on the planet. I have the man I’ve always loved, who helped me through all my personal demons and didn’t flee when things got rough, and I’m going to have his son. Talking of which, he’s woken up and is moving around.

Ooh, you little bugger, stop kicking and don’t even think of doing a hand stand on mummy’s bladder. Oh too late.

I make my excuses and hurry, well hobble, off to the loo. I see Jilly in passing and wave. She looks at me with sympathy for my plight and follows me to the loo.

I pull up the skirt of the satin wrap dress I’ve managed to shoe horn myself into and sit down with a sigh of pleasure. Never thought peeing would bring me so much pleasure but don’t knock it. When you’re this pregnant it’s the greatest thing in the world next to Cookies and Cream Hershey bars.

“Pip? You ok?” I hear Jilly call.

“I am now. Junior decided to do Olympic gymnastics on my bladder.” I say as I stand up slowly, my centre of gravity isn’t where it used to be and I have to be careful how I stand if I don’t want to pitch head first to the floor.

I join Jilly at the washbasins and after washing, I redo my lippy and try to make sense of my hair. I have started to resemble Hermione Granger in bushiness and generally frizziness. It’s such a pity I don’t have a wand and a tub of Sleakeezies hair potion.

“I don’t remember your hair doing this when you were carrying Lib.” I moan as my hair does its own thing.

“That’s cause I don’t have the amount of hair you have, mine’s baby fine remember?” Jilly smiles, looking every inch the radiant renewer.

“How are you?” I ask her, my meaning a bit deeper than the question suggests.

“We’re fine, now.” she replies, knowing exactly what I meant.

She told me all about the marriage counselling and had me in fits of hysterics as she described Jon’s behaviour that day. Having spent time with the man when he was in one of his pissy moods I had some sympathy for the counsellor. Not much, as by all accounts he was a bit of a git, but some…

We make our way back to the dance floor, arm in arm, laughing and wondering how in the hell did we end up here.

Two regular girls from South East London, both with the men they’ve loved since they were able to know what the word meant.

I’m still pondering over that fact when my back twinges again.

I stand still and reach behind to rub the aching muscle, smiling as Richie walks over to me, when I feel something warm trickling down my legs.

The look on my face says it all. The look on his face is priceless.

Chapter Ten - Jon's Story

I’m going to Marriage Guidance Couselling. Me? Couselling? Gimme a fucking break. Still it’s what Jilly wants. Personally I think it’s a waste of fucking time. You know, spending an hour sitting in front of some conceited ass who’s probably single or gotta string of divorces under his belt and spilling all my secrets.

Nah, not gonna happen.

Shit.

Jilly’s giving me that look again. You know the one. It says quite clearly that I’d better be on my best behaviour and not embarrass her in the slightest whilst at the same time she wants me to dig deep into my psyche and spill every little secret I’ve ever had, all in the space of an hour. Yeah whatever. Like that’s gonna happen.

Oops was that sigh too loud?

Yeah, yeah I know I’m scowling under my shades but fuck it, I’m wasting time sitting here in this opulent office when I could be laying down some great tracks in the studio. Yeah, I know. Best behaviour, right?

The door opens and a tall dark haired, quite handsome in an Ivy League way, man in a suit comes in.

“Ah Mr and Mrs Bongiovi? I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting.” he says as he sits down in his high backed leather chair, framed by vast windows showing a gorgeous view of the pacific ocean.

Smarmy git. Hate him already, with his Harvard accent and Hugo Boss suit. I look down at my tattered jeans and tight tee and my frown gets deeper. It was people like him who drove me into music during high school. So I suppose really I should thank him but I can feel something primal stirring deep down inside in response to his presence. Fucking assholes who think they run the school just cause they’re popular. Huh, showed them huh? Guess who’s more popular now?

Oh shit, they’re both looking at me. Musta missed something he said.

“Er, sorry, I was deep in thought.” I manage to stammer. Oh fucking great my stammer’s back. Of all the fucking places it could come out, it chooses here.

“That’s perfectly okay Mr Bongiovi. I was just saying that this will be a preliminary appointment for the pair of you to air any grievances you may have with each other without prejudice. I want you two to have a place to come to get everything off your chest without carrying it back home with you.”

Carry it back home? What is it? Fucking takeout?

El Smarmo continues. God even his hair is perfect, the way it sits just so on his head, makes me wanna rip his fucking eyeballs out and have him suck them like gobstoppers...

Ok, even I’m officially grossed out by that thought, still with all this anger I evidently have, seems I’m in the right place.

“So Mr Bongiovi, would you like to go first?” He turns to me, “Maybe you’d feel more comfortable if you removed the sunglasses. Eye contact is always important in good communication.”

Ok, now my eyebrows have officially moved into my hairline but still I find my hand moving to remove the glasses without a conscious thought. Hmm.

I look at him, squinting slightly as bright sunlight pierces through the clouds outside and shines through the window. He presses a button on his desk and a shade falls slowly, mechanically into place. Cool! I want one.

“If you’d like to face your wife, Mr Bongiovi, and tell her what exactly you wish to accomplish by being here.”

“Well,” I start then stop, this isn’t easy this whole truth thing. Then it hits me. She wants the truth I’ll give her the truth. After all it’s been three months since the day she came into the studio and hugged me and that was the last time we had any real physical contact. We’ve talked, we’ve even kissed, but little Jonny ain’t had no action and he’s getting mighty twitchy by now. Plus he’s sick of the sight of my own hand.

I clear my throat and look at her, taking her hands into mine, feeling the soft skin under my calloused fingertips.

“Firstly, I wanna get though this session as quickly as possible, then write a cheque out for what will probably be a horrendous amount of money, then I wanna go home and fuck your brains out.”

There, that truthful enough for ya?

Silence.

Mr smarmy pants is so shocked he’s speechless. Probably cause he’s thinking of the cash he ain’t gonna get cause I’m fucked if I’m coming back here again.

I look at Jilly. She’s sat so still, her face blank as she stares into my eyes.

Ooooh shit! I’m thinking I may have dropped a bollock, when I see the corner of her mouth twitch slightly.

Ha, got ya! I think as the twitch develops into a smile then a laugh forces its way out of her beautiful mouth. Suddenly she’s rolling on the sofa with laughter. It’s infectious as I find my self joining in.

“Jilly? We don’t need this. I’m sorry I haven’t told you what’s on my mind, you know me, sometimes I forget to tell you how much I love you but it doesn’t mean I don’t, and everything I said to you in anger? You know I don’t mean it, I love you with every beat of my heart, you’re my soul mate, my companion, my love and without you I’m nothing but an empty shell.”

Albeit it one with better hair than Le Smarmarino.

Jilly looks at me and smiles. She sighs and then gets up from the sofa, holding her hand out.

“Let’s go home Jon.”