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.”
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